A place to call home

It is snowing outside. Not the whirling kind of snow, or the horizontal kind. The kind that falls soft and thick, millions of flakes falling endlessly quiet like an early summer shower of apple blossoms--the gentle release from branches, the graceful, weightless descent and the carpet mosaic that it seems wrong to walk upon -- cloud-like and moist.

I was downtown this evening. Went down to meet my good friend Margie for supper. I took the bus downtown, arriving too early, as is common now that I walk/take the bus everywhere I go. Instead of going straight to the restaurant where I would have to sit smelling the aromas of other people's food while I waited for the sun to set, I decided to go sit in the basement of the Confederation Centre for the Arts. The basement sounds dark, but in reality this building that houses a large theatre, the public library, a restaurant/cafe, giftshop and galleries has been built in such a way that there are courtyards into which the skylight falls, and large glass windows looking out onto the courtyards that allow the winter light to filter into the building.

This evening I sat and said some prayers for the Fast -- gratitude prayers for making it this far through the Fast without getting sick as I usually do--and some prayers for grace and strength as I continue to move forward in my job search. Then I sat and watched the snow fall into one of the courtyards. There are two trees in the courtyard that I looked out into, and the snow was collecting in fine, weightless ridges along the tops of all the bare branches. The branches were strung with white Christmas lights that were on, but the sky was still light enough that the chain of tiny lights appeared faint -- almost not visible. I sat and watched the snow fall and fall. I find watching snow fall to be extremely calming. Mesmerizing. I could sit quietly and watch it fall for hours and be entirely content.

When it was time to head over to the restaurant I collected my belongings, put on my down-filled coat, my scarf, my woolen hat, and my mittens, and headed back out into the snow. Margie was waiting for me when I got there, and we enjoyed a relaxing meal together -- me sharing about my challenges with finding a job, and she sharing a little bit about her recent trip to work with women market gardeners in Kenya. There are some people whose company I enjoy so much that I find the time with them always flies past....it always feels as though we just sat down for a chat and it is already time to go again. Margie is one of those people, and I was sorry when it was time to head home.

One thing that I love about Margie is that she always makes me reflect more deeply about how I am living my life, encouraging me to always be conscious about what I am doing, saying, thinking and feeling, and the impact of all of this on what is actually happening in the world around me. Tonight she asked me if I had thought about why I might not have found work yet, and whether there was something inside of me that was influencing the physical job hunting process. I am inclined to think "nope-- this is all Immigration Canada's fault, or the fault of the ridiculous citizenship laws that allow some people to have the right to work and prevent others from easily finding a job." But if I allow myself to reflect on her question, I think it is worth looking at. As she said: "You want so much to find a home and settle down. But is there part of you that does not think you are worthy of having a place in the world?" I am still thinking about this question, and it is resonating with me at some level, so i think I will keep thinking about it. Maybe I do need to make an internal shift....learn something and make some changes in my perspective before a job offer will come my way.

I am home now, listening to the snow plow outside, the clock ticking in the kitchen, and the sound of the keys tapping away beneath my fingers. Lots to think about, and a long snowy night ahead for finishing the novel I am reading right now -- The Custodian of Paradise -- and dreaming, once my head hits the pillow. Tomorrow morning I will be up before the sun again for another day of Fasting. Make my breakfast by the light of the stove top and eat it perched on a wooden stool in the kitchen, easing my body into another day. And you, friends? Is there something that you need to learn before the next door of your journey will open and lead you onwards?