Adjusting...Or Not

We have been home for several days now, still very much in the midst of transitioning back into our lives here. Our bodies have not yet adjusted to the time zone difference, waking early and fizzling out shortly after dinner time. Our palates have not yet adjusted to a return to food, American style. It was a large accommodation to stop at Wendy’s on the way home from the Toronto airport. It may be fast, but it is not nearly as satisfying as a sandwich from a café or brasserie. And I already miss the café au lait to which I awakened each morning. Our ears have not yet adjusted to a totally English-speaking environment. Lindsay, especially, misses hearing the sounds of the French language. Our minds have not yet adjusted to such American traditions as Wegmans…it was sensory overload after having grown accustomed to shopping in neighborhood markets that sell only one type of food item…and SUVs – with the price of gas at 6.00 euros per gallon, (over $8.00) the French are driving small cars, Smart Cars, or riding motorcycles or bicycles, or using public transportation…and the absence of flower vendors everywhere. Every block has at least one florist and in restaurants, you are likely to encounter what Lindsay referred to as the “ubiquitous” rose man, who roamed from table to table with fresh roses for sale.

On the other hand, it is good to breathe fresh, clean air. Cigarette smokers are more publicly prevalent in France. A new “no-smoking inside restaurants” law has all the smokers sitting at the outdoor café tables – it was difficult to walk down any city street without inhaling someone’s smoke. It is good to be back in the comfort of our home, no longer living out of suitcases, searching out Laundromats, trying to navigate unfamiliar roads, or running to catch trains. It is good to have the rest of the summer for reading, writing, and reflecting, and enjoying life with family and friends.

This morning, as I listened to a CD of music I brought back from Taize, a flood of memories returned and reawakened my desire to consider how we might weave experiences of contemplative prayer, in community, more intentionally into our congregation/community/presbytery lives here. I read three books during our travels: "Three Cups of Tea," "Breathing Space" and "There Is No Me Without You." Each of them took place in a culture that is different from the one in which I live (although Breathing Space is situated in the US – the Bronx is not exactly Ontario, NY). Each of them explored the storyteller’s passion to engage a particular social justice need by building relationships in his/her own context: peace through access to education in Pakistan, new life and hope emerging from poverty and violence in the Bronx, and caring for orphaned children in the AIDS crisis in Ethiopia, respectively. How could I be more intentional about seeking out and becoming acquainted with those living on the margins of my community? Where are people struggling around me? How could I begin (or continue) in relationships that might lead to the discernment of appropriate responses? These are a few of the questions that are now bubbling to the surface. They are not new questions, for me, but questions that continue to pull at my heart, requesting renewed attention.

In the words sung by the brothers of Taize, and all who join them in prayer and solidarity:
"The kingdom of God is justice and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. Come, Lord, and open in us, the gates of your kingdom."

Blessings to all,

Cheryl