Another Day at Work: Knowing, Loving, and the Immeasurable Weight of Being

I punch the clock; I put on the apron; my shift begins.

I see the people come in and go out all day long. [Grande/long-pour/with-room/Americano] I think to myself, who are these people? Where do they all come from? Have I seen this person three times already this morning? [Triple/Venti/three-pump/whole-milk/no-foam/no-whip/mocha] I see friends meeting; I see students working on their computers; I see businesswomen and construction workers grab their coffee and run. I think to myself, who are all these people. Well… they are like me: they are people. [Iced Grande/seven-pump/non-fat/extra-extra drizzle/caramel macchiato]

I tell a joke to a co-worker and she laughs a great laugh; I smile because that means I’m funny. Not one to stop when I sense an opportunity, I push the humorous metaphor and the joke rolls on – she laughs more. Yes, I’m funny. [Tall/non-fat/latte] Do I hide behind my humour? Do I use it to feel better about myself and feel accepted by those around me? Is it a mask that I wear or might it actually be an expression of my self? [grande/coffee-misto] Hmm…

[grande/skinny-vanilla/latte] Is she coming from the gym or does she use her lululemon active wear as a front, a façade. Why do women work so hard at it? Would I think any less of her if she came in wearing grey sweats? Would she think any less of herself? Maybe she just feels comfortable in that kind of clothing. I’ll probably never know.

How is it that any of us are actually able to know another human? Do we all put on fronts? Maybe facebook is just the virtual version of what we all do every day: we put our best picture up for others to see. Look at me, I’m fun, I’m active, I have a great smile. [Venti/no-water/extra-hot/Tazo chai-tea latte] Her friend arrives, they greet one another, and she posts a comment on her friend’s wall, telling her how good she looks lately. I think to myself, how well do they know each other; how well do they know themselves? [tall/caramel/170-degree/steamed-soy]

It’s time for my break and I sit down with my double-tall/dry/cappuccino and my book, “Early Christianity and Greek Paideia”. Do I hide behind a mask of intellectual discovery and sophistication? Well, yes and no… sometimes maybe. I do enjoy reading about such things, discussing such things, and learning and growing in general. In all honesty though, I sometimes do add a little bit of flourish to my explanation when someone asks me what I’m reading; perhaps I choose eloquent words for maximum effect. Though, to be equally honest, that is also how I talk, how I express myself. Hmmm… breaks over.

[two tall/extra-hot/caramel macchiatos] Maybe the same is true for most people – to varying degrees. Maybe what we show people is part who we are and part who we present. Who are all these people then? Can I ever know any of them when they are constantly hiding themselves? But what if the problem is not solely due to them? What if I share in the deception, encourage the illusion. [grande/no-foam/skinny-vanilla/latte] Another lululemon lady… what if part of the problem is that I see this woman and simply do not have the eyes to see her for who she is. Do I have the eyes to see anyone for who they truly are? Yes, I think so. [venti/espresso-macchiato]

I do have the eyes to see some people in my life. I look at my mother, my brothers and sister, and I see in them intelligence, uniqueness, beauty. I think of my dear wife and I am amazed at who she is, her patience, care, and love for me: she has a beautiful soul. My amazing little niece, so filled with life that it overflows onto/into all those around her: she is a beautiful little girl. I have friends that I have known for a long-time. I cherish and hold dear their friendships: they are beautiful. Even my in-laws who I have known for so short a time, I see glimpses of beauty in them through their interactions with each other. [venti/light-whip/mocha-drizzle/white-chocolate/mocha] Now that I think about it, I do have the eyes to see the beauty of other people – predominately those whom I love. Is that the key… love? Is to love to know? Or do I love them because I have come to know them, the real them. Which comes first, the eyes to see a person as they truly are (i.e. to know them as the beautiful creatures that they are) or the love? [venti/strawberries and crème/ frappucinno] Perhaps the two are simply inseparable: growing together in an ascending spiral of loving knowledge, woven together in a beautiful tapestry of shared being. Hmm…

[tall/latte] His friend arrives and they joyfully shake hands, greeting one another with words of affection and giant smiles [decaf/grande/with-room/americano] Maybe they have eyes to see the beauty in each other. I apparently don’t have such eyes: all I see is two middle-aged, overweight, men in outdated clothes. What if I am not looking at two men as I’ve just described them? What if I am actually looking at two beautiful human beings: human beings with the potential to be great saints of heaven, human beings with the potential to do heroic deeds great and small, human beings with the ability to love and be loved. What if I simply do not have the eyes to see them as they truly are, deep down inside? [triple/grande/skinny-caramel/latte] What if she is the same, somewhere behind that façade of make-up and fashion? What about him over in the corner by himself, reading the paper? Or that lady coming in the door? It occurs to me that everyone I cross today is a unique, beautiful creature, whether I know it or not, whether they know it or not. I don't seem to know it most of the time. But then it happens: a fleeting whisper of grace... I look around the room and for the most brief of moments I see a procession of radiant human beings, created in glory and for glory, beloved of God, icons of the Divine, destined for eternal love and joy. I see humanity from the Divine perspective, from the perspective of love. As quickly as it came, the vision begins to fade: under the immeasurable weight of un-masked being my immature soul collapses and [quad/grande/two-pump-cinnamon-dolce/soy/no-foam/Americano-misto] again, all I see is customers coming and going, grabbing their drinks and doing whatever it is that they do. Hmm... Oh, my shift is over already – my, how time flys.

I punch the clock; I take off the apron; my shift ends…

Being a Man: Thoughts on Fatherhood...

No one ever told me how to be a man. I didn’t have the example of a father to emulate – at least not for the majority of the time that comprises my remembrances. I didn’t read books on the subject (Seven Simple Man Principles, Forty Days of Manhood, etc). Yet, somehow I find that I am a man. What is it that comprises manhood? Merely having a receding hairline or an enlarging waistline does not make a man. Being referred to as ‘sir’ by the nineteen year old girl behind the counter at the beer store does not make the grade either. Though age is not enough to make one a man, somewhere along my three decade long journey I did become one.

Men are boys who have grown up. They accept responsibility, act according to what is right, and treat others with respect. They know who they are and what is required of them in this life. They have gained some added perspective on life – at least enough to seek to live as described above.

When the time came upon me to join the specialized class of brave men and become a husband I earnestly sought out wisdom on the path that lay before me. No, I didn’t run out and get the latest books on marriage or being a husband. I contemplated the nature of love and life. I dialogued with those who had great insights on the human soul and on divine love. Though I knew very little about the practical aspects of marriage, it was not the answers to such things that I yearned for (I knew these would come with time if I had a heart disposed towards humility, gratitude, and love). It would be arrogant of me to suggest that I have it figured out (with a whole year of marriage under my belt); it would also be naïve and false (so I won’t). But at this stage in the game, I feel as if I am headed in the right direction. By the grace of God and the patience of my wife I am learning and growing in my role as a husband. I now find my thoughts often drifting off to this (at least for me right now) abstract concept of fatherhood. One day, Lord willing, this will no longer be an abstract concept, but will instead be a tangible reality (gasp!). I wonder, what will fatherhood be like? What will be required of me as a father? How will my role as a husband change? How do we, i.e. my wife and I, go about raising a well-adjusted and self-aware human being who knows how to give and receive love? I have many questions.

Perhaps the best example of fatherhood that I have at the current time is that of my older brother. I have valued the privilege of observing him as he interacts with his daughter: he’s a great father and I look forward to seeking his advice on fatherhood when the time comes. I admittedly have little experience with the younger folk and it is intimidating to think of caring for one full time. I do take solace in knowing that I have a wonderful woman to team with when it comes. But that in itself brings other questions.

I’ve often thought that the father is placed in a strange (or estranged) place, both biologically and socially. A man can become a father with out even being present at the beginning. Given the survival time of sperm, conception of my child could easily take place when I am not around. I am blessed with the ability to participate in procreation but I may not even be present when the new life begins. Come on Tyler (you may be thinking), get a grip… you’re making a big deal out of a biological technicality (and you may be correct). At the birth itself, I wonder, what role will there be for me to play? My dear wife will have a set task before her, but how will I fit into the events? Will the role of observant be my calling? It does seem as though, at least in the early days/weeks, the husband’s role is primarily supportive. It all seems somewhat removed. Maybe it feels different when it is your child and your wife whom you are supporting. I’m sure I will quite enjoy playing that supportive role as my wife cares for, and bonds with, our child. It does seem a beautiful and magical thing, the mother/child relationship.

When the time comes, I suppose that what will be required of me will not differ greatly from what is currently required of me. Maybe it is best not to think of life’s different ‘stages’ as static, separate places; but instead I ought to conceive of them as dynamic and connected points of being along the road of life. Just as humility, gratitude, and love are required of me as a husband, they will also be as a father. I suppose that if I am honest with myself, I have to admit that I already know the answer. The specific details will change, but at its essence what is required of me I already know: be a man.

Right Here, Right Now: On Waiting...

This morning I woke up early to frantically finish my translations of St. Augustine’s “Propositions on Romans” (Expositio Quarundam Propositionum Ex Epistola Ad Romanos) for class. After working away for a few hours in my study I raced off to get to the library as it opened to get in a few more good hours before class. I tell you, there is nothing quite like a motorcycle ride early in the morning – this being an especially pleasant early fall morning, it was fantastic. The only problem is that I have to go through Langley City to get to campus, the same Langley City that has trains running right through the middle of it that stop up traffic for blocks. But then I realized, it’s not a problem at all. As the huge metal beast sped by I turned off my bike, leaned back and relaxed. While I gazed out over the early morning sky – majestic Baker standing strong and proud out in the distance with the rising sun highlighting the contours of snow and rock, the delicate clouds rippling outwards from the Western horizon to fill the very heights of heaven – I realized that this is the very substance of life, not just some filler that lies between home and work. I let the sights and sounds of the new day seep into me and it dawned on me that there is no where else I ought to be but right here, right now, waiting for a train.

Accepting Gifts...

Let me be clear at the outset: I'm not easily offended. It's true. I'm generally a very easy going guy. There aren't many things that people can do or say that will offend me; I'm not saying that there are none, but perhaps there are few.

I think that some people are not clear on what a gift is. At least in my thinking, a gift is something given for free, for nothing in return. Well, maybe a thanks in return, but that's about it. I think this is often how I experience life. Most of the things I have or receive are gifts, things that I have not merited in any tangible way. I eat food, breathe air, enjoy friendships, and the kindness of strangers, essentially, I live life. All of this is gift; and all that I can do in return is live in gratitude and thankfulness.

So, when I give someone a gift and receive money or something in return for it (other than a thank you card, which are wonderfully thoughtful) I feel as though the gift is somehow nullified. Suddenly there is a transaction taking place and my gift is somehow less of a gift. I think I would rather have someone say, 'no, thank you' and not accept the gift than to have them thank me and then try to pay me.

Now I'm not saying such actions (and certainly not such people) are necessarily wrong. Perhaps it comes from a desire not to be obliged or indebted to another. Though, now that I think about it, we are all (in one way or another) indebted to others. I cannot measure the great debt I owe to my friends and family over the years. I think there is something intrinsic to life in which indebtedness is an inseparable part. We begin life already at the mercy of our mothers and fathers (not to mention our Creator), indebted to them for their hard work, love and gracious care. If I tried to pay back my mother for all that she has given me over my lifetime... oh boy, it would take several lifetimes to even begin. I've been married for a little over a year now, and if I calculated all that I owe my wife for her love and support... again, it would take the rest of our marriage together for me to begin such a task. Perhaps therein lies the answer. We are indebted to those people in our lives who have given us so much (and even so little). But, if we truly want to pay them back for what we have freely received, the way is not money but instead expressed gratitude: expressed in words, expressed in how we treat them, think of them, speak of them; expressed in the way we live our lives as indebted people, people indebted to love who give love in return.

I began writing this post thinking about how it offends me when I give someone a gift and they attempt to pay me for it. I think that I shall end it thinking about how I am a debtor to the love given me and how I am to repay that love to all those around me.

Look at me attempting to repay this gift given me: what an offense...

Strangely difficult words to say...

Why is it so difficult to answer with the words, "I don't know". Often they are the most truthful of response. Is it pride? Is it my academic training which pushes me to respond with a well-reasoned hypothesis as if it were solid knowledge? Whatever the case, I think that often these are not only the most truthful words to respond with, but also the most beneficial. Especially in matters of faith and religion it seems to me that humility and proper acknowledgment of ignorance is duly warranted. For me this sometimes takes conscious effort. 'Oh, you're doing a MA in Biblical Studies... what does this passage mean? What did Jesus mean when he said this?' The truth is that I may have gained some insight into this or that, but ultimately I'm still dealing with a God who is wrapped in mystery and infinitely beyond my understanding. This is not to suggest that I have nothing to add to a discussion on such topics, or that my education is not of particular benefit in these matters; instead it is to give recognition to the enormity of such questions and due respect to the divine Creator and His revelation to us.

From the sayings of the Desert Fathers:
"One day some of the brethren came to see Abba Antony, and among them was Abba Joseph. Wishing to test them, the old man mentioned a text from Scripture, and starting with the youngest he asked them what it meant. Each explained it as best he could. But to each one the old man said, "You have not yet found the answer." Last of all he said to Abba Joseph, "And what do you think the text means?" He replied, "I do not know." Then Abba Antony said, "Truly, Abba Joseph has found the way, for he said: I do not know.""

By no means am I suggesting a false of put-on humility. If we feel we know something, there is no reason to pretend otherwise. What I am talking about here is the perceived need to have an answer when we truly do not. Why this is dangerous (at least from my point of view) is that if I am not teachable, then I will not learn. If I do not learn, then how am I to grow.

I've often told my wife that I'm not smarter than her, or filled with great wisdom and knowledge... I've just read a few more books on the topic. It seems to me that humility is the only proper demeanor when dealing in such matters. Everything I know, I've learned from others. There really is no room for pride since countless others have, in patience and generosity, helped to teach and guide me where I did not know to go.

The issue is not necessarily whether I know or not. I don't have to always answer, "I don't know". The issue is instead responding with humility with what I do know, and honesty in what I do not.

Vita Aeterna: When I think of heaven...

When I think about heaven, I am often drawn to images of infinitely expansive creation. I think of pristine beaches stretching on for as far as the horizon (except there is no horizon?), pristine sands meeting clear blue ocean waves which gently lap the shore. I think of forests and mountains, rivers winding their way through ravines and valleys, green as far as the eye can see, rocky peaks jutting out from the green expanse. I think of sand dunes, of stars in the sky; I think of many different things. All my thoughts on heaven share many similarities. They predominantly involve nature (in fact, I believe they all do). This used to seem strange to me, but no longer does. How else am I to visualize heaven but through analogical symbols that I know of from my experience. Also, they all seem to involve infinite magnitude. Not a magnitude of time (I think I’ll blog on that later) or magnitude of space, but instead simply a magnitude of scope, of being. Though I visualize these creational analogies, there is more that I sense other than what the eye can receive. I always seem to ‘sense’ or ‘feel’ ambient warmth, a surrounding presence of comfort and joy. It often makes me think of a description I once heard of heaven as being ‘in love’. Not in the colloquial sense of romantic love or the like; but instead as tangibly being in love, inside of love.

I am convinced that the best way to conceive of heaven is in terms of vita aeterna: eternal life. Okay, I thought I wouldn’t blog about this, but I will. In order to properly appreciate eternal life, it is important to correct a mistaken conception of eternity. Most of us tend to think of eternity in terms of time. That is, our concept/experience of time tends to be our hermeneutic for approaching the concept of eternity. If I asked most people to describe time, (after they’re done looking at me strange) they would likely describe something like a straight line with the past on the left and the future on the right. The present would fall somewhere in between and be constantly moving right towards the future. The future would stretch out indefinitely right (at least until the ‘end of time’, whatever that means to each of us). The same person would also likely conceive of eternity as that endless future after time. Again, it would be a straight line stretching out towards the right, but this time forever. Unfortunately, what is being described here sounds more like ‘endless time’ rather than eternity. This is because temporality is all we know and all we have experienced (well, almost all we have experienced, but I shall save that for another blog post). And like my visualization of heaven, our conception of time must be drawn from analogy to our temporal experience.

I have been thinking about such matters for some time now, and recently came across this in my readings (which I though apt to the topic):

“To imagine ourselves outside the temporality that imprisons us and in some way to sense that eternity is not an unending succession of days in the calendar, but something more like the supreme moment of satisfaction, in which totality embraces us and we embrace totality – this we can only attempt. It would be like plunging into the ocean of infinite love, a moment in which time – the before and after – no longer exists. We can only attempt to grasp the idea that such a moment is life in the full sense, a plunging ever anew into the vastness of being, in which we are simply overwhelmed with joy.”

As I read these words I thought, ‘wow, that’s exactly the expression I’ve been searching for’.

If temporal analogies fall short in conceiving of eternity, can we then try to understand time from the framework of eternity? A friend of mine referred to time as the moving face of eternity. This understanding makes a lot of sense to me since… well, maybe I will not get into that either. It is difficult to talk about heaven without talking about time, eternity, being, memory, the relationship between transcendence and imminence (at least in the orthodox Christian understanding) and the list goes on. But I ought to return to the blog topic at hand, if only for the sake of those reading this.

When I think of heaven, I am drawn to images of beaches, forests, deserts, stars and other such things. I think that the magnitude that is expressed in these pictures is rather an expression of the magnitude of being that heaven possesses. Peace, joy, love, these are found in their fullest expression there. How does one imagine infinite joy, infinite peace, and infinite love? Being itself is also found in its fullest expression in heaven. Are we not to stand ‘face to face’ with the source of all being there? How does one imagine infinite being? I think it is right that when I think of heaven I picture beautiful scenes of nature/creation. They may not be the fullest possible expression of heavenly things, but they do express such things when one has the eyes and heart to see them, if only through. Though I must say, that when I think of heaven the overriding sensation is that of warmth, beautiful warmth, bringing healing and wholeness to my soul, to my very being. I call it ‘warmth’; others may call it being ‘in love’.

“For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known.”

Perceptive Comments from a Four-year-old...

This past weekend I attended my cousin's wedding. Immediately following the ceremony I was still sitting with my little niece on my lap. It was a beautiful blustery afternoon and the wind was rolling up off the lake, on the shores of which the wedding was held, and into a little copse of trees which formed a semi-circle around us. My niece looks up and says to me, "Uncle Tyler, the trees are clapping". Amazed, I reply to her, "That's very perceptive Isabel; it takes some people their whole lives to figure that out".

Clouds: Anima mea exsultabit in Domino...

One of my favourite parts of the day (and I have many) is my walk home from work. Sure, my feet are tired, my blood contains too much caffeine for its own good, and I likely reek of coffee (let’s be honest though, there are much worse things to smell like), but I quite enjoy the experience. It usually takes me forty-five minutes (or more) to stroll the distance (what ought to be a half-hour walk) while reading my book and letting my mind and attention drift between paragraphs. Often my eyes are draw upward, towards the sky above. And oh, what a sight to behold!

Joni Mitchell has this great little song called “Both Sides Now” where she uses clouds as a metaphor for life. I enjoy this song, perhaps partially because, like life, clouds fascinate me: I find them to be mysterious and transcendent (it’s as though they belong to another realm and have snuck into ours).

“Rows and flows of angel hair,
And ice cream castles in the air,
And feather canyons everywhere,
I’ve looked at clouds that way.
…
I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now,
From up and down, and still somehow,
Its cloud illusions I recall,
I really don’t know clouds at all.”


There are clouds that look like wool, cotton, or even sandpaper. There are dark foreboding clouds, and light cheery ones that bring an involuntary smile to the face. There are clouds that look like the rolling sea crashing against a rugged BC coastline; and there are clouds that look like the endless rippled sand at low tide. Not only are there different clouds, but also they can often all be found in the same sky. Look to the West and the sight is so much different than to the East. I remember hearing an old Native proverb about not being able to cross the same river twice. I think this is equally true for the sky. Every glance above yields a different sky with different clouds. Every time I look-up at them I am amazed how transitory, how ephemeral the scene truly is. Was it placed there just for that exact moment that I should look up? Was I the only person to see that sky, those clouds?

Most of all, I desire those rare clouds experiences, the ones that overwhelm me till I tremble at my very core. There are the rare moments where the parting of the clouds is witnessed. A tiny hole appears and begins to grow. At first there are little rays of light peeking through, but as it grows the floodgates of light are let loose and the clouds roll back to reveal the full power and glory of that great luminous orb. Just as it all begins, a sense of awe, wonder and fear overtake the heart. The blood courses rapidly through the veins and the lungs hold still for barely a heartbeat. The ears strain in expectant anticipation for the sound of trumpets and the angelic hosts singing their heavenly song of praise. It also only takes a second for the mind to realize that no, this is not the eschaton. The effect seems no less dramatic for the absence.

I know that clouds are functional; of course they are an intrinsic part of the earth’s water cycle, the cycle that sustains all human life. Yes, they have that function. But allow me to suggest that perhaps they have another function or purpose: the elevation of my soul. Big groups of water vapor gathering and moving about above… yes, I understand this. But what if they are also the strokes of a divine paintbrush - the clear blue canvas providing a creative outlet for the imaginative work that is meant to draw our eyes upward, towards the heavens themselves. What if these blends of colours and shades are intended for easing my weary mind, for soothing my soul, for warming my heart. What if clouds are visual love sonnets, sung to remind me that my troubles are small when compared to the overflowing love that calls out to me daily.

Like Joni before me, I don’t understand clouds. Perhaps the point of clouds, like life, is not necessarily to understand them, though we still seek to do so, but instead to experience them.

When I look heavenward and behold the glorious sight that is laid out across the vast expanse, I let it lift my soul…

…perhaps that is what it was placed there for.

Greta: from time to time...

It's strange; from time to time I think of this woman whom I never had the privilege of meeting. She passed away shortly before my wife (then girlfriend) and I started dating. She was/is my dear wife's mother, Greta.

My first introduction to the family was at Greta's memorial service. I vividly remember sitting by myself in the crowded church and watching/listening as her life, and the person she was, was recounted by her family and loved ones. More than just talked about, I remember how it was somehow made evident in a tangible way through her husband and daughters. As her five daughters, each her favourite ;), shared memories and thoughts, as her husband, Jack (whom I don't think I had met yet either) regaled the gathered crowd with anecdotes, I was struck by the impact this woman had had on the lives of her family. I enjoyed the service and was very glad that I had decided to come. It felt as though I had met Greta vicariously through her family and friends, at least in some small way.

I do think about Greta from time to time. I'll pass by a picture of her and Jack and I'll wonder to myself who this woman with the lovely smile was. I quite enjoy spending time with Jack and all the daughters when I am able; and I always enjoy hearing tales of years gone by and remembrances of Greta. I may not have known her, but I do know this: she is loved and missed by all who had the honour of knowing her.

Greta, requiescat in pace domini nostri...

Amazing little things those vegetables...

I am often amazed at the simplicity of it all: the sun shines, the heavens rain, and they grow. Vegetables are little solar-powered miracles.

I walked down to the local produce market to pick up some vegetables as we are beginning to run low, which isn't good for a vegetarian household. What a fun experience it is every time I stroll the isles and smell, poke, feel, and finally choose the selections that will end up later on the dinner table. Not only is it fun, but it's also cheap! This morning I walked home with three bags of fruits and vegetables (and a smile on my face), which came to under $15. A nutritionist that I am reading in my spare time had ran an experiment to find out what it would average for her to buy a day's requirement of vegetables; I believe the figure she came to was 69 cents. At first I was a little skeptical. I mean, really... 69 cents? But then I considered what my wife and I spend on groceries monthly and it didn't seem far off (of course, the author is talking USD and figures will vary depending on location and season). Last night I calculated our monthly expenditures, which I do every month, and was equally surprised to find out that we had spent a grand total of $140.85 on groceries. When you account for non-food grocery items, that works out to about $4.40 per day for two people (seventy-three cents per person per meal). The vegetables are really incredible things.

What makes the vegetable option an interesting consideration is that, though they are more expensive per calorie than some other items (cheap processed meat, anything comprised predominantly of sugars, especially corn-derived sugars), it is difficult to find more nutrient-rich foods. When one considers that our society is the most calorie rich society in the entire history of the human species, yet still suffers from a general nutrient deficit, the choice for vegetables seems pretty good.

But Tyler, don't you get bored of vegetables? You mean get bored of food? No. A quick survey of our refrigerator yields a count of eighteen different vegetables. Add to that five different fruit ('tis the season - though we should pick up some blueberries), seven different bulk whole grains, four types of seeds, about five types of nuts, seven types of beans, etc...

Come to think of it, it's not just vegetables that amaze me: the manifold variety of food that comes from the earth for us to eat is incredible! Some sprout up from the soil; others fall from the tree branches; some we have to dig for. It can't be from lack of abundance that there are people starving in the world. It seems to me that we have been provided for such that we need only work for our food.

On that note, I'm going to head to the kitchen to cut up some fresh vegetables to take to work with me tonight.

...they truly are amazing little things.

The Eucharist: Taste and see that the Lord is good...

I watch them as the come forward, the poor and destitute, the blind and lame; they stumble up looking for sustenance, for the food that will carry them through the journey. I see the princes and rulers, kings and queens, the rich, radiant with health and glory, striding confidently to share in their prize. I see saints kneeling with eyes aimed to the heavens. I see sinners prostrate in humble desperation. I see them all come to the place of healing, the place of wholeness, the place of joy, and the place of love everlasting. I see humanity as it is, and as it soon will be – as it was always meant to be. In the midst of all this, for a transient moment, too brief to grasp before it is gone, the veil is lifted and I witness the centre of my life: it is He from whom I find my very being.

Taste and see that the Lord is good… indeed.