Things I have become known for

We each carry with us a certain set of skills. Paul outlines that clearly in his New Testament texts, and as you might imagine he even suggests ones that we may want to pray for.  One of the real attractions for me going to different places is not only developing new skill sets, such as making a mango, orange, cranberry compote from scratch (without a receipe), but being known for skills that I might not otherwise be able to develop.   Here are the things that I have become known for during this time on Iona: 1.  My green book.  I carried a little green notebook with me while on Iona.  It was essentially my day planner while away.  It slid easily into my pocket, wasn't bulky, and had plenty of space for jotting down information such as ideas that came to me, hymns that we sang, people's names and email addresses, and most importantly social engagements.  Since my social life on Iona far outstrips my social life in the real world, it was a critcally important part of my life.  To the extent, my friends would say "did you make a note of that in the green book?" or "Put that in your green book and you can remind me" or my personal favorite, "look that up in the green book and see when that happened."(sadly enough I was able to do so). 2.  Little camera with the freakishly amazing zoom.  I have a lovely little Canon which also fits into my pocket (next to the green book, and I was working in scrub pants with the little side pocket).  I carried it with me everywhere.  And while small, it does have a great 14x optical zoom, and a 56x digital zoom.  One of my friends began to use me and my freakish camera as a telescope, calling me out of the kitchen to zoom in on something across the field to discover what it was (goose and her gosslings).   3.  Images of everything and anything.  Yes, when you have a compact camera that goes everywhere with a freakishly amazing zoom, you can have images of everything. I took images of boats that were so far away we couldn't make out what they were.  I have images of people from a fairly significant distance, but honored their privacy by not taking them in compromising positions (and actually telling them I had the image).  I have an entire collection of images from the kitchen, in case anyone ever wants to know what 1 kg of butter or oats looks like.  In fact, the only image I don't have is a friend making me an offer that was easily refused because he was wearing blue rubber gloves (someone else captured that image). I have an incredible collection of sunset and sunrise images, taken from a variety of locations on the island.  I have full moon images from July and August over the sound, but sadly enough could not capture the rise of the waning gibbous moon a couple of nights ago (just not enough light).   4.  Reading the Bible.  Yeah, I know that sounds lame, but I purchased a new Common English Bible prior to coming here, and decided to follow the Read your Bible in 90 days plan.  Actually, it is about 60 days because I want to read it while I am in Scotland.  Well, two things emerged; one, people became really interested in the plan and wanted to participate, and two, people became really interested in the Bible.  But not for the deep theological reason that you might conclude, no, it was because the Common English Bible is a plain text Bible.  And frequently, I would shout "Listen to this," and then read a text passage.  Some were so outrageous that my roommates would scatter for the other Bible in the room, to see what other translations and interpretations said.  Trust me, no interpretation needed, the Bible has some pretty strange stuff going on.   While some of that may have no practicality when I return to the "real world" some are things I can take pride in, some I can rejoice in and all I can share.   This becomes a thin place.  

What does it mean to be in the real world?

A frequent question asked on Iona when your leaving date approaches is, what will you return to in the real world?  Which naturally leads to a discussion of what is the real world.  And why does it seem that the real world is anywhere other than where you are?  So upon leaving Iona I am taking a couple days holiday and traveling to Fort William, where I will receive a bit of reintroduction to the real world. So far the principle differences seem to be television, people that you don't recognize, keys, sleeping in a room for one, traffic and the noise that accompanies it.  And oddly enough I have found each comforting in their own odd way.   I am not much of a television fan, but I spent the better part of an hour just staring at the many images on the screen while I continuously changed the channels.  I spent two hours sitting out on the beautifully groomed terrace of my bed and breakfast listening and watching to the cojoined activities of the steady stream of traffic and the steady gurgle of the stream nearby.  In my walking about the town I was stunned to not recognize anyone since on Iona you typically know all the people, and can distinguish day trippers from those lodging on the island. It must admit that it was strange to sleep in a room occupied by only myself.  No caphony of snores to join to mine.   But none of that has been quite as entertaining as my readjusting to keys. How many times will I lock myself out of my room because I have forgotten my key?  Answer: often enough that the young woman at reception just offers to left me in my room on the assumption that I have yet again left my key in the room.   But in the real world, like Iona, we need to recognize God in all the variety of forms in which God may appear.  As I discovered in India, one of the forms in which God appears for me is hot and cold pressurized water.  And while that is somewhat tongue in cheek, more and more I am coming to realize that the thin places we may seek, that I am seeking, are the places where we are most often.  It is the real world that blinds us to God's activity in those places.   So I am going to continue to seek out thin places, those places where the veil between heaven and earth is pulled back, but I am extending that search into the real, day to day world, seeking what God is up to in our midst.  Watch for thin places.  

All of this must go in there

     I can shop.  Very well.  I was trained pretty much from birth.  I have expensive tastes, and the patience to pursue those tastes in thrift and charity shops.  Clearly the dilemma before me is, ALL of this must go in there.  Everything that I have amassed in eight weeks has to fit into by duffle, and still remain under 50 pounds (35 kg).  Because I am an experienced and well trained traveller, I do have an empty bag in my duffle, which can be filled should the situation arise, however, that will incur baggage fees.

     The solution?  Leave it behind.  Now it will also be no surprise that I had planned to do that very thing. There are clothes that came with me that I intended to leave here on Iona.  That is actually very common, in fact, in my living area we have an entire closet (cupboard) devoted to left behind clothing.  It is called the Vollie (volunteer) cupboard, and it contains all the left behind clothing.  Volunteers have either intentionally or accidentally left behind clothing which remains in the closet until claimed by those that follow.  I have claimed two t-shirts, one long and one short sleeved.  At the end of the season they will actually be put in a jumble (garage) sale, as a fund raiser.  So to make room for my purchases, and collections, I will leave behind trousers and t-shirts for the Vollie cupboard.

     Books will not be making up weight in my bag; I have only purchased 2 books, but am bringing back 3.  A friend of mine who was here earlier in the season bartered for a book, and I am the carrier of the trade.  I do, of course, have a frighteningly large collection of glass and pottery which will have to go somewhere, and that trade off may be my boots.  While new when I arrived, they are well worn now.  I have walked about 7 miles a day, and have developed a split in the toe of one of the boots, allowing both water and wee stones in.

What can't go in the duffle, but that which I must carry on my own is how I have come to love these people?  How in such a short time, some as long as 8 weeks others as short as one, do people come to be so close to your heart?  Through shared experiences, both humorous and sad, through shared life of what we may or may not want to eat, and through shared living, of who may or may not be snoring, these dear people have grown into my heart and reshaped me -- yet again.

     It is truly a thin place.

Chasing the wild goose (An Geadh Glas

      The Celtic image of the Holy Spirit is that of a wild goose.  No docile white dove for them, the noisy boisterous spirit of the wild goose captures their understanding of the Holy Spirit.  While the spirit may comfort us, it is also meant to disturb us, not to allow us to become to settled or comfortable in one spot.   Wild geese are at once beautiful and distressing.  They are noisy and call attention to themselves, often to their own peril, and on the other hand they are graceful in flight and powerful in their scope and prowess.

The publishing and resource arm of the Iona Community is call Wild Goose publishing.  Last week they had a gathering at the centres working with others on worship and liturgical resources.  And the intensity of their work and sessions was punctuated by the sudden and unexpected arrival of a gaggle of wild geese on the island.  They have literally honked their way into our hearts.  So on Wild Goose Resource  Group week, wild geese showed up with the spirit.  

      Amazing what the spirit is up to.  

Not simply enough to be leaving

     So you live in a place for two months, sharing virtually everything from living space to germs, and the time comes that you must move on to the next place.  It is not enough that you pack it all in and depart, you have created relationships, some of the younger ones serious relationships, and you must deal with those relationships.  Some deal with it by not dealing with it.  They slip off on the early ferry hoping against hope that no one will come by (not certain if it is an emotional thing, or they simply can't bear the thought of the embarrassing display of affection at the goodbyes.  I will not reveal what that is; you must come and experience it for yourself.  Some deal with it by getting all caught up in the emotion, in the goodbye, in the terminal status that this creates.  The leaving becomes the important part.  Some deal with it by focusing on what comes next; how you move on from this small piece of life to the next piece of life.  We make inquiries about what lies beyond Iona, and how soon you will make the plunge into the real world outside these tiny shores and sparkling waters.  Some have huge plans that carry them to other far flung places, but not quite as remote, before emerging in reality. Others, like me, will take a couple of days to renter society (let's face it, I have not dealt with keys or people I don't spend all my nights and days with in some time) and then plunge headlong into reality.

     But the big reality is that our time here on this tiny remote beautiful island is as real as it gets.  All of life is compressed into a week’s time frame; you meet strangers who will be close friends, perhaps companions by Tuesday, who you will have to say goodbye to on Friday morning. Chances are you will never see them again. So the larger aspect of reality is how has this effected/affected who you are in your real reality?  How can you live the words we offer each morning in worship? We will seek peace and pursue it.  We will not offer to God offerings which cost us nothing.  It is not simply that we are leaving, but are we leaving with sufficient change to impact in God like and significant ways the world that we will be living in.

That can become a thin place.

Caffeine addiction

     As you are aware I have a serious caffeine addiction. The other morning I had a particularly early start, so I began the day simultaneously having a cup of tea and coffee. Here on Iona we serve instant coffee, and as icky as that may sound, when in desperate circumstances you will drink anything for a fix.  

One of the young Englishman here uses a phrase that I intend to adopt -- proper coffee.  It is amazing the lengths you would go for a proper coffee.

The languages we speak

     One of the requirements of volunteering here is that you must be able to speak conversational English. So there are volunteers here from Germany, Switzerland, Netherlands, Finland, Czech Republic, Sweden, England, Scotland, Ireland, Northern Ireland and the U.S.

     As you might expect you must speak a bit more deliberately and clearly with those with whom English is not a first language.  Although most that come literally come to have a place to practice their English, they are pleased to have others to speak in their first language.  Often we get into discussions of how words are used, and as what part of speech a word may be used.  Literally one day we were diagramming sentences on a white board, a skill that I thought would be as useful as algebra.  My favourite is the simple, descriptive phrases they use, for example one of my colleagues had witnessed a bit of a confrontation between two people, and said  “there was a bit of hot air between them."  Not how I may have said it, but spot on accurate.  Yesterday I took a bit of a spill in the kitchen, and ungraciously landed on my butt.  My friend asked "Are you alright or do I need to hold you?"  Not actually the correct phrase, but the sentiment was appreciated.  

     Interestingly enough there seems to be as much difficulty in understanding the various forms of accents among those whose first language is English.  The Scots words and accents from Glasgow and Aberdeen are particularly difficult for those unaccustomed to them in conversation.  One morning a friend said he was going to pop out for a quick fag, and the third person in the room was aghast.  "What did he say?" she asked.  While initially I was going to answer flippantly, I suddenly realized she had understood what he said; she did not understand what he meant.  "He's going to have a cigarette,” I responded.  So I have become a translator from English to English. My skills are not always needed, so I have to wait for sudden awkward pauses in conversations, and that is my cue that the hearer did not comprehend what the other English speaker has said.

      It has become a funny thin place.

Busy business of welcoming friends

     Much of the past several days have been in preparation for the welcoming of the members of the Iona Community.  For as often as we say goodbye, we say hello with the same frequency, but for the past couple of weeks it has been saying hello to old friends.  Last week was the worship resource group of the community here to work on different ways of worshipping together. Many of the people that attend that week have been here previously.  This week we welcome the people who have committed, or are in the process of committing themselves to the life and work of the community in the world.  So these are people that visit perhaps even more than once a year. It has a bit of the feel of our Annual or General Conference gatherings, although they don't seem to have the same governmental agenda we have.  But clearly this is a time when they come together after a lengthy separation, and include a time of introductions so each will know precisely who are in attendance.  If we had only sung "And are we yet alive," it may have seemed like home.  The theme of the week is "Gender Justice" and the workshops of the week will focus upon discussions in that area.

     They even have a special celebration, welcoming people who have newly committed to the ideals of the community, and of course, that celebration must include food.  So the two kitchens have worked for three or four days towards a huge luncheon, which was served across two centres.  Imagine having your main course in one place and walking (hiking) up the road for the dessert course.  Although the kitchen I work in was in the "dessert" centre, each kitchen worked on both courses, so there was much ferrying of food and serving utensils back and forth.  So it amounted to a very, busy and long day, but punctuated with the fun and hospitable nature of feeding and caring for others.  More than once through the day I was reminded of Jesus' feeding of the 5000 (we only served a little over 200), and how that worked not only because of the miracle of Jesus, but the preparation someone had gone into to pack a little child's lunch.

     This was a thin place.

Saying goodbye

   There are good byes and then there are goodbyes.  Today there were some of each.  A couple of good friends left the island today, one whom I had just met eight weeks ago, and the other who I met here two years ago.  I frequently worked with one, and shared sleeping quarters with the other.  One I am fairly certain I will see again, and the other is far more unlikely, yet possible.  We say good bye often on Iona.  Each Friday the guests that we have spent the week with say farewell.  This is occasionally difficult, because you really get to know people over the course of a week.  Sometimes it is very painful, as was the case of a five year old guest who was quite taken with one of the housekeepers.  He was heartbroken at the pending loss of their friendship. Sometimes it is a gift to see them go. On Wednesdays we say goodbye to our colleagues.  Early in the season this is less difficult, because you don't know the people very well, but as your time in service grows longer, so do the goodbyes.  This morning was a goodbye based at least on seven weeks.  

   It is a little slice of life, compressed into tiny week size packages.  Life is always about hellos and goodbyes.  And just like most of life here on Iona, it is exaggerated by the beauty of the place, the colors of the sky, the glistening of spirit that seems to drip from everything you do.  

   But there is a comfort in the fact that these are probably not true goodbyes, probably more likely they are "adieu" or at least see you later.  And while they may not make the absolute goodbyes less painful, they do give you practice for when they come.  Today I learned that a good friend is saying goodbye, absolutely, to his young daughter.  

   There are no thinner places. 

Piece of pottery in my heart

   To avoid picking up every rock on the island and attempting to bring it home (the lady in the post office will not let us mail rocks home), I have switched to pieces of sea pottery and sea glass.  They are light weight, and much easier to pack.  Although I will admit that there is a limit to how much of them you can put in your trouser pocket before the weight pulls it down.  I have decided to use them to make a cross for my wall of crosses in my entry way.  (I did want to find a piece of driftwood to use at the base, but that may be another post).  

   One of my roommates and dear friend was also collecting sea glass and pottery (sea pottery washed by the sea like glass, but it is shards of crockery).  She was collecting some for a family member who was making jewelry out of them.  And while it never escalated to a competition, it was fun to compare different pieces.  She ran into a bit of a dilemma has she tried to pack yesterday, and was running out of suitcase room.  Ultimately some of the less attractive pieces were left behind.    

   But for her leaving celebration she shared with us her pieces, and noted how they were all broken, yet beautiful.  Just like us.  How they were all destined for different purposes, still useful, although none of them whole.  Some were going to become ornaments, some jewelry, some reminders, but all had a new purpose completely different from the original intent.  

   How different are you from what you suspected might have been your original purpose?

   That could be a thin place.