Course Correction

It’s been a week, hasn’t it? Wars and rumours of wars, mandates, “vaccine passports” and the fact that British Columbia is the only Canadian province that has yet to make a commitment to drop the “passports”. Government overreach and political rhetoric. Real and manufactured news. The tsunami of information one has to sort through to find a measure of what we believe to be the truth. I don’t know what’s going on anymore and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to try and figure it out.

I suppose, in a sense, that’s a good thing. When I stop believing I have to understand and have an opinion on everything it frees me. It allows me to trust in pure Love and true and timeless wisdom that transcends information overload. It releases me from the trap of wading through news articles, live streams, op eds, and podcasts. It shifts my focus and turns my attention toward my better work—that of loving God and my neighbour (and goodness knows I need more practice at both of those).

Seriously, I’m ready to call “uncle” on trying to stay reasonably informed. It’s impossible. All I know for sure is that people all around the world and here at home are hurting, losing their homes, livelihoods, and lives, and whatever justification those in power try to toss their way means nothing. I don’t need to know what’s happening everywhere at every minute of the day and trying to stay on top of it all is making me crazy. I’m not sure where the correct balance between staying informed and being oblivious falls, but I know I’ve shifted too far in one direction and it’s time for a course correction.

This morning, grateful for the opportunity to attend church via lifestream and in need of rest, Gerry and I stayed home. We watched as our church family lit candles and joined with them to pray for our brothers and sisters in Ukraine and elsewhere. I was struck with our unity in the face of shared suffering. Comparatively speaking most of us aren’t suffering, but collectively we feel the weight of this week and ache for people whose lives have been turned upside down. That we, together, acknowledge our grief and pray for one another is one of the things I love about the Church.

Later this week, the Church will enter the season of Lent. For most of my life, I thought Lent was reserved for people of another faith. It’s only in recent years that I’ve come to appreciate the wisdom and beauty in following the liturgical calendar. Lent is the 40-day period between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday. In the same way that Advent is a season of preparation as we wait to celebrate the birth of Jesus, in Lent we contemplate his life, death, and prepare our hearts to celebrate his resurrection. It is a perfect time to turn away from some things and toward others.

I haven’t yet decided how I’m going to walk through the season of Lent, but I’m committed to changing course and leaning into the better thing. For now, I ponder.

 

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I’m a writer, reader, photographer, and gardener. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things.
2 comments
  1. Thank you for your post. I can relate to the overload: more and more ” walking in the woods therapy” is helping. Also appreciate your thoughts about Lent; I too am a ‘late bloomer’ in its traditions and practices.

    1. Thank you for stopping by, Karen. I’m glad we connected. 🙂

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