Saturday 6 May
Turns out that Simon forgot our meeting-- he sought me out to apologise at dinner, and in the meantime must've allowed at least three other vollies to witness his subsequent search for me. I suppose in the past I might've felt hurt. I don't think I do now.
I have a particularly difficult time, though, of making sense of four new American vollies coming next week, and the much-celebrated showing of Team America last night. I know I'm highly sensitive about all this-- but the fact remains that I am not totally paranoid. Everyone here openly opposes Bush's policies, and though I'm with them on that, I don't agree with that leading to them using Americans as a scapegoat. Yes, I am guilty of not doing more to fight injustice and oppression, but you are too, Britain. We are simul justus et peccator (simultaneously saint and sinner), just as all of us are oppressor and oppressed at the same time. I am guilty. You are guilty. So were Ghandi and Mother Theresa, and not just in some vague matter of principle. Even canonised saints like Columba gave into evil impulses to harm themselves, others and the world. We are in bondage to sin and cannot free ourselves. Christ is the liberator with the keys of salvation. And from that point, we choose whether to shake off our shackles and operate with unrestrained hands and unbound feet.
Anyway, I'll step down from my soapbox now. I just really dislike elitism (even, let me remember, in myself).
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Small Offerings, Small Miracles
Friday 5 May
A three-quarter day! I'm sitting right now waiting to meet Simon (the Mac programme worker), who may be sort of talking with me regularly in lieu of a counselor, but at the moment, he's not come yet. Maybe there was a miscommunication--I'll find out soon, in any case.
Cleaned lots of toilets, showers, and sinks today, since the guests have all left on the morning ferries. It's amazing to me how fond I feel of some of them, and evidently they of me: a few hugged me and said things like, "Thank you for all your help and hospitality." Me--could they be talking about me? I am stupefied. Something I've done has been useful, appreciated, and mutually touching. "Small miracles," as Martin says, and also "strange days," says Markus.
The farewells at the jetty were quite stirring: hungs and smiles and Iona staff turning cartwheels, doing "the wave," and singing "Ameni" one more time with the departing guests as their ferry pulls away.
Matty's quite exuberant with his singing and chocolate and hugging--I couldn't keep up with him in spirit in cleaning this morning. But a really great thing happened. When I was starting to get terribly down, I remembered some words from the liturgy we use in the mornings: "we will not offer to God offerings that cost us nothing." It's okay that there are regularly times when I'm in discomfort or frustration or annoyance, because it's a part of a larger, healthy service that can be slowly but richly rewarding.
Anyway, although it's sunny outside and all, i'm going to nap. That's what half-days are for, right?
A three-quarter day! I'm sitting right now waiting to meet Simon (the Mac programme worker), who may be sort of talking with me regularly in lieu of a counselor, but at the moment, he's not come yet. Maybe there was a miscommunication--I'll find out soon, in any case.
Cleaned lots of toilets, showers, and sinks today, since the guests have all left on the morning ferries. It's amazing to me how fond I feel of some of them, and evidently they of me: a few hugged me and said things like, "Thank you for all your help and hospitality." Me--could they be talking about me? I am stupefied. Something I've done has been useful, appreciated, and mutually touching. "Small miracles," as Martin says, and also "strange days," says Markus.
The farewells at the jetty were quite stirring: hungs and smiles and Iona staff turning cartwheels, doing "the wave," and singing "Ameni" one more time with the departing guests as their ferry pulls away.
Matty's quite exuberant with his singing and chocolate and hugging--I couldn't keep up with him in spirit in cleaning this morning. But a really great thing happened. When I was starting to get terribly down, I remembered some words from the liturgy we use in the mornings: "we will not offer to God offerings that cost us nothing." It's okay that there are regularly times when I'm in discomfort or frustration or annoyance, because it's a part of a larger, healthy service that can be slowly but richly rewarding.
Anyway, although it's sunny outside and all, i'm going to nap. That's what half-days are for, right?
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