Post quake

Several people have asked about Christchurch. Lets see well it has been a painful journey. My grandmother died two weeks before the quake, for that I am grateful. My other grandmother lost it and is in a home, my brothers partner was killed in the CTV building.

Church wise there are 26+ churches including the cathedral gone in Christchurch including my home church, the church I was Christened in, and my previous church. At times I am fine with what has occured, then at times I find my self shocked beyond belief, my jaw tight with grief and unsaid words.

God and I are closer though and I believe my faith is stronger than ever. I will try and attach a pic of my Church Holy Trinity Avonside and a piece written from the Women's Studies Network News Letter in March this year.

From Women's Studies News Letter

Back in college a month after the February quake, I still find it hard to comprehend what it is that has happened to my home in Christchurch. I, like many, was initially traumatised by the news of the earthquake. We waited desperately for news from home, the extent of the devastation still unfolding in the city.

Under the weight of constant aftershocks, anxiety and sleep deprivation, it became increasingly apparent that coping mechanisms in Christchurch were crumbling. The opportunity to be a part of the St Johns College relief team to the Maori Mission in Christchurch was an absolute gift. Before moving to college, I had volunteered in social service agencies for over twenty years and knew the city well. However, the

experience of ministering to community within the midst of an emergency, which in effect was still unfolding, challenged me anew to examine how I both experienced and reflected Christ in a disaster.

Although I had experienced the rolling aftershocks, and seen the impact on the city after the initial quake, nothing could prepare me for the shock of standing in front of

my home church. There I was, holding in the palm of my hand, a piece of what was left of the building, the place where I had prayed I would one day be ordained.

In that moment of contemplation, standing on my sacred ground, my solid ground, the words of theologian Jon Sobrino flooded into my being:

“There is a lot to do when an earthquake strikes, but the first thing- without which nothing else we do is enough- is to let ourselves be affected by the tragedy, not to turn away or soften it. This is not a way of promoting masochism, or demanding what is psychologically impossible. It simply requires an initial moment of honesty toward the reality.”[1]

Surrendering that moment towards the honesty of what was occurring allowed me to be fully present in my ministry.

During my time in Christchurch, the full blessing of my experience of Clinical Pastoral Education became increasingly apparent. If for no other reason than the removal of my initial hesitation at being alongside people in trauma, I was exceedingly grateful for those days ministering in Middlemore’s Psychiatric Unit. Yes, the physical building of my church had been reduced to rubble, but that little piece of it, which only

I knew was resting in my pocket, became a touchstone as I worked for the

next few days; my solid ground when meeting with those for whom there was little certainty. A gentle reminder perhaps, that though a building is a building, solid ground is not necessarily that on which I stand, but on that which is my sure footing in the realm of God. This love, that in those tired moments (when it would be easy to join those around me whom. had fallen into quiet chaos and fear) is the love on which I firmly stand. That grounding faith, in those moments, holding me as I hold those fearful and uncertain, as we stand together on the solid ground of God’s enduring love.

On the last night of our time in Christchurch I find myself once more standing in the grounds of my church with my father and my brother. In the last light of day is revealed the great church window, shining untouched through the rubble.

Such emotion bubbles up

on attempting to understand this trip

-this place

a liquefaction of competing thoughts - emotions

foreign, familiar

- pure and tainted.

Questions that few have the breath to answer

ambush the weary

demanding some logical pattern

amidst that which resists form.

How can one in such a place not ask what it is the land demands

when she rolls over in desperation

shaking loose the shackles of archaic churches

waking long dead church fathers.

To one born of old eyes

such questions find a safe harbour behind my teeth

until the only sound that feels safe leaving my mouth

- a lament, is cried into the ground.

“Where is your sacred ground?

Where is your place to stand?”

In the end all that can be done is to dig a hole

and give these questions up to the earth.

It is in the reflected in the at the end of a long day

arms of God where solace is to be found in this place,

through a pile of church rubble

a window unharmed displaying the colours of Gods enduring love

---

[1][1] Jon Sobrino, Where is God? Earthquake, Terrorism, Barbarity, and Hope (New York: Orbis Books, 2004), 7.

3rd Year approaching ordination

I have noticed a change coming over St John’s College community as we approach the end of the year – and more importantly as many of us approach ordination. I have in past years been aware of the shift that ripples through this place. We are a community, we worship early in the morning, break fast together, study together, have Eucharist together, lunch together, we live next to each other, we socialise, our children are bought into the world and grow up here, they play together, and we all love and struggle and suffer together. In many respects I have never been so intimately entwined in a community as I am here. As such nothing that affects one in the community, can not at some level be felt by another. This year with so many heading toward ordination I wonder if the feeling is compounded?

Or is perhaps it is just my own fall into introversion as I approach my deaconing. In some respects it is odd to me to be leaving here to be ordained in another place, another Island away from my community. I will travel to Christchurch, God willing be ordained in the Church of St Michael and All Angels (as the Cathedral is no more since the earthquakes). I will work in the community, in the east of Christchurch for five weeks with quake survivors and then return here, different and yet the same.

As I approach ordination the questions of worthiness ripple and round the community and through me. We have become a quieter people at present. I am happy that some of the people from here will travel with my husband and I to my ordination, my dean, the priest in charge of my formation, students. People who have been an intricate part of my formation and journey. Two worlds for a short while will touch each other (I wonder what they will think of each other?)

In the meantime I notice myself caught between the difficulties of acquiring the documentation needed to be ordained when ones church has been destroyed and all records are in the red zone, and my own internal shift. I notice it most when I take bible study for the Pacific Island and African Women at College. There we enter Tambore time when we engage with scripture and the intimacies of human interaction across nations. In this sacred space I confess my increased need to nurture my community, to set up sewing sessions so no one to be deaconed or priested - however tight for cash (the perpetual student problem) without a stole.

I confess too my sudden desire to look at wedding dresses. Although I buy them at auction to cut up for stoles, I am aware that there is a subtext here, a mirroring of the bride of Christ, a sense that in my ordination I will be wedded to the Church in a new way.

Such are the noticings of this a woman on the edge of ordination, on an evening where there is a soft rain and the smell of blossom heavy in the air.

Reflection on Year two in Seminary

I have lately become painfully aware of the transitions that occur in being in seminary. Whilst facilitating at the hermeneutics hui I had the chance to reengage with those from my Diocese. In some respects this was valuable yet it was also painful. Painful in regard to an awareness of the judgements externally of my seminary from those who have little or second hand knowledge of community life and the positive things which are happening. After a year and a half of intentional community building & the pursuit of theological excellence, to receive critical comments from people from home to both my fellow students and to myself, was painful and embarrassing.

There is of course always a cost in leaving the diocese to train at a seminary in transition when others are engaging in a different stream of theological education, however I was exceptionally proud of my fellow St Johns College students, in their leading of worship and pastoral care for those at the hui.

I am aware that there has been a transition in what it means to be a first year seminarian and a second year. Whilst this year I have really stepped up into leadership positions within college, here is also a a second guessing and self criticalness that has crept into my being, that was not so active before. A visit home in part highlights this with friends who have not seen me for some time more accurately able to see the change.

Lunch with a tutor however manages to bring some perspective as she is able to identify that what I am feeling (internally full of doubt, externally confident) is typical for second year students who are constantly under the eyes of Bishops, Deans, examiners, markers and indeed the self, as we strive to step into that new place of being.

It is easy through the day to forget the eyes that watch and yet there is an undercurrent you become aware of in every aspect of life being 'noticed'. It is within worship that I perhaps feel it the most as I become aware of the need to just stop and experience God.

These observations are not bad however, they just remind me of the need to:care for myself, spend more prayer time with God, perhaps make connections with people outside of seminary, get a new spiritual director.

Realignment

The lost as yet unaware of their absence from Grace
see not the path they have strayed from,
nor the deep blue waters beneath which they sink.

Instead an SOS unsent
taps absently out from wayward fingers
the unconscious expression of a muffled intuition.
Come back baby
All is not well
the wise have long left to speak their truths into the earth.

I am aware for perhaps the first time in an age the need for wise counsel removed from the politics of the church, from personal agenda and bias.
The danger of immersing oneself in the smallness of the church community I suppose. And I am aware of at the craziness of a month in which:
15000 words have been written,
exams had,
a four course dinner for Bishops, Archbishops inc ++Katherine Jeffers Schori has been cooked,
meetings attended,
and today begins the facilitating of a group for the hermeutics hui looking at sexuality,
fly to Dunedin Sunday for week long Christology course before two days with family,
mtg with Bishop and back in time for tea and the new semester.

Is it any wonder that in the wee small hours I sit aware of the madness of the church with issues peculating around vying for allegiance. God at this point I choose to keep my counsel unto you, help me in the next few days stand purely in the love of you and your creation.

Falling into Easter

I am struck on this day by the how even when feeling somewhat distant and detached from Church, Easter manages to pull me back, immersing me in the eternal passion narrative.
Last week I finished the icons for the chapel at St John’s College. As I have said earlier the process of being so close and immersed at such close quarters with the passion narrative I had felt as though I had been held in a constant state of grief whilst painting these. I had done Easter to death before we even arrived at it!

On Monday evening at evensong I released the icons into the hands of the college. Father Honoré took a blessing service adapted from a Syrian rite where the icons were anointed and blessed with holy water. As I sat in the chapel I was for the first time far enough away from them to really feel the power and impact of them as they were supposed to be viewed, in a church, at home ,in their natural environment.

I wept, not just for the grief of letting go of these icons into others hands, but for the transformation that sat before me.

The pictures you see here of the icons come from the studio where I worked. Hopefully I will have some of them in the chapel to add later.

We have been blessed in Seminary for the last few months to have six brothers from the Melanesian Brotherhood join us and journey with us through Lent and onward through Easter, I had spoken to one of them about icons before, but it was not until the blessing that he really understood what it was I was talking about. I was profoundly moved at the end of the service to have him hold my hand as we looked at the icon and later receive a request to create an icon of his 6 brothers who were martyred in Melanesia several years ago. A previous icon had been painted of the brothers but it sits in Westminster Cathedral far away from the brothers. I was, and indeed remain, deeply touched and in awe of the task of creating an icon where the figures are of those in living memory.

St John’s College continues to be a place of growth and wonderful challenge. The mix of cultures beautifully articulated in a gathering last night. Here a group of Pakeha, Maori, Fijian Melanesia and English students gathered with the Melanesian Brothers to watch a DVD of a passion play that they performed. So we watched a Melanesian passion play, performed in England, watched in New Zealand.
After, we gathered for Tenebrae before stepping out into the night with the moon bright above us.
Blessed be to you all this Easter
Megan

Well the year has begun in earnest with a five day trip up into the Hokianga staying on the marae to follow the footsteps of the early missionaries here in Aotearoa New Zealand and then into two weeks orientation at college.

We are blessed for the next few months to have 6 of the Melanesian brothers with us at college. Today I had my first singing lesson with them. There complex harmonies are amazing. As a first time singer I of course am easily led astray but it was exhilarating.

Otago University is also new for this year. Although I remain in the seminary in Auckland I am now studying out of Otago.

So study so far looks like...
Contemporary Biblical Criticism
Hinduism and Buddhism
Ministry and Society in 21st Century
Early Christianity
Christology
Judaism, Christianity and Islam
Chaplaincy in Society
Maori.

Phew!

From a teaching perspective two of us begin teaching our first icon class for the year on Sunday. We are already over subscribed with others on a waiting list so it is gratifying.

I think that the fact that we teach it as a threefold venture of:
Prayer
Practical painting techniques
and theology, history and context of icons has been a real selling point.

Later in the term I am taking (as a student) an icon class with a woman who teaches techniques I have not used before so I am very excited.

Anyway, whilst we were away on our marae trip visiting missions, battlefields and marae we were called to write so here are a few poems from that. For those of you wondering about the snoring when you stay on a marae you sleep in the meeting house mattress next to mattress, snorer next to snorer.

No history highlight -swimming up a river chasing flounder into nets and eating them fresh for breakfast. And playing cards with the elders at night.

Someone to Watch Over Me

Tonight I don’t mind your snoring,
on the edge of sleep low feline rumblings
speak to me of comfort.
Of uncles long past,
of brothers lost,
and grandfathers
- once far away,
returned.

Together they remind me
that for tonight,
I am not alone.

Tonight I am surrounded by noisy ancestors
snoring up the rafters.

On Intoducing Oneself to New Waters
My Father told me
to understand a place
I must bury my hands in the earth,
speak without fear to the birds of the night,
and plainly with the birds of the day.

That in introducing myself to new waters
I would enter a courtship temperate,
with foreign oceans inclined towards possession,
- courting water is always delicate.

When overtures gentle,
to tides and eddies,
shallow and deep waters alike are complete,
only then may I advance tenderly...

Knee deep,
thigh high,
waiting,
for that moment delicious...

When...
permission given,
I may fall over into waters new
and be baptised once more
in a salty sway.

In water negotiations at least,
there is always more than one baptism.

In the Midst of an Icon Project

Okay so 4am has become 5am as God and I listen to the noises strangely overlooked by the day. I am aware of being in a timeless place at the moment. As I enter the half way point in this icon creation project I am aware that it has happened before this feeling, on one level I experience an intense detachment from the mundane business of the world and yet on another an intense awareness of it's pain and suffering. For the few weeks as I have engaged in this icon project I have found myself bathing in deep gentle grief. When I am not looking at it as I paint I am compelled to immerse myself in it in my time away.

This manifests in odd ways like a current obsession with watching Grays Anatomy, so far I think I am up to programme 35 or heaven forbid extreme makeover. There is something about watching something where I can have a good cry, be it for joy and gratitude or another poignant death in a medical drama which acts almost as a pressure valve.

Each day to look into the face of a grieving Mary, her crippled hands empty as I paint her, has been a challenge. As I wait for the gold leaf to set I have begun my second icon in the series for the St Johns Chapel which is a lamentation. Jesus, dead, is pulled right up into the lap of his grieving Mother, John holds his hand tenderly and Mary Magdalene holds his feet.

Although I am not sure if it will be ready for Easter, I am determined to engage in a third icon of the Resurrection after these two. Then I think I will be released to paint anew. It will be interesting to engage in Easter this year as I would have to say in this project so far I feel as if I have engaged in it already.

On a late night (Megan is in one of her weird spaces) side note, the Holy Water I keep in the icon room evaporated the other day. It felt good to think that I and all who have painted over the last while have at some level been breathing the Holy Water in.

Maybe now I shall attempt some sleep and then comeback and edit this so that it becomes something more than the incomprehensible ramblings of a sleep deprived artist in the midst of prayer.

Blessings to you and yours

Megan

Immersing myself in icons

For the last week I have been slowly immersing myself in my latest icon project. The project is a series of icons for St Johns College Chapel for Easter. Basically they will fit into a candelabra in a triangular space. The first is a grieving Mary, the second a lamentation and hopefully a Resurrection. Such projects have a way of raising me up and throwing me to my knees.
I had thought I had, after some time immersed in the agony of the Marion icon for Good Friday, nearly finished. However with the gilding I have come undone.

One of the down sides of living in Auckland is having to adjust to how the tropical climate interacts with both the God leaf and the size. As such I am about to go and for the second time sand of the Gold and begin again.
People are saying just leave it who will care?

Yet I know I will, and indeed more importantly that this is a holy task, that Mary deserves more than to be hurried over to get to the next steps. In the end I know I need to ignore those voices and concentrate on doing what I am lead to do with this icon.

Yesterday in preparation for an intensive painting time Father Honore' took a commissioning Eucharist for me in the chapel. It was a true gift. The exorcising of salt and water, the consecration of Holy water was all a real blessing. Now a bowl of the Holy water sits in the icon room for all who enter.

At moments such as this when I have opened myself up to be commissioned and set aside for this act I am aware in part of separating out again from the world, and stepping into a kairos time.

At present the gilding or re gilding of Mary is just another part of that process, of stripping myself of the once over lightly attitude of the world.

I know that I just have to stop struggling and let myself sink beneath the waters.
Thanks be to God

Meg in the sea

Elizabth and Mary sermon

Sermon Fourth Sunday in Advent
Luke 1:39-45 Preached at Selwyn Village Church by Megan

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight Christ my hope and my redeemer.

Some years ago when I was teaching, one of my teenage pupils got pregnant. What was remarkable wasn’t another teen pregnancy, but that none of us suspected a thing. She was a big girl and each day’d begun wearing looser clothing until she couldn’t hide it any more and had to tell her parents.

After practising how best to break the news, she went into the lounge and said “Mum, Dad I’m a little bit pregnant”. [pause]

I’ve not heard of being a little bit pregnant, but I suspect she thought it would ease the blow.

After much bluster her father asked “How much is a little bit?” to which she replied “My waters broke this morning and my contractions are six minutes apart”! Needless to say, there wasn’t much time for her parents to get used their daughters pregnancy, to be angry, sad, excited even. Within four hours they’d become grandparents to George, a healthy and much loved – if unexpected, baby boy.

I’ve often thought about what it must’ve been like for that young woman to go through her pregnancy alone. For Mary, the risks of being a teenager, pregnant and unmarried were far greater than for my student. Mary didn’t just risk her parents disapproval she risked the condemnation of her community, and potentially death.

So controversial was Marys’ situation that even her husband to be Joseph, was, until the intervention of an angel, trying to find the best way out of what was becoming an increasingly dodgy situation.
A few miles away Mary’s Cousin Elizabeth, and her husband Zachariah, were, after years of being shunned by their community due to Elizabeth’s barrenness, dealing with their own miraculous call to parenthood. Mary and Elizabeth two devout women both pregnant under unusual circumstances – one too old, one too young, no wonder the neighbours were talking.

On the surface today’s Gospel reflects a normal meeting, two women delighting in each others pregnancy, yet at a deeper level we become witnesses to an act of profound and abiding love, and to a great commissioning where prophecy is made manifest.

Elizabeth – the local vicar’s wife, contrary to tradition and common sense, welcomes without question, or judgement the frightened Mary.
In her cousin’s arms Mary finds sanctuary, here her pregnancy isn’t some dirty family secret, but a gift to be celebrated.

Elizabeth’s unconditional love, recognises Mary’s goodness, seeing great gain, from what looks like great loss to everyone else. This ability of Elizabeth to willingly accept Mary with an open heart means that she too is transformed.
“And the baby leapt in her womb, and Elizabeth is filled with the Holy Spirit”.

In this encounter we witness God active in both the world and the womb, as Elizabeth and her yet to be born baby John, respond with delight recognising the Christ child.

Both women bless each other as the transformed Elizabeth, prophecies’ loudly and with hearty voice, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed be the fruit of your womb”.

This act of unconditional love and blessing echoes through time, reminding us that there is no retirement from the wonder and work, of God.

Today God calls us to be his love in the world, to embrace a spirit of humbleness and hospitality, checking our judgements at the door.
Such thinking can lead to us discovering, as Elizabeth did, amazing things in ordinary places.

Several years ago when I’d just been made redundant at Christmas, I was at the supermarket feeling particularly sorry for myself when the Holy spirit gave me a wake up call. In the cue in front of me was a woman even more anxious than I.

With a little girl sitting in the trolley, she was furiously counting her groceries whilst trying to read a piece of paper gripped in her hand.
Her trolley contained the bare minimum.
As I leant forward I saw the piece of paper she was holding was a social welfare emergency food cheque. She had never had one before, and was trying desperately with one of those over bright smiles to hide her shame from her daughter and those around her.

She nervously handed the cashier the emergency cheque only to hear in a piercingly loud voice, “oh one of those, well you can’t afford all this” as the cashier proceeded to take out items from the woman’s trolley as she felt fit. [pause]

As the women eyes filled with tears, smile still bright for her baby went to pack her bags, I looked at what I had, and understood that God was offering, a chance to see the good in a person and bless them without judgement.
As I paid for my groceries I also got those the cashier had pulled from the woman’s trolley. The cashier in a patronising tone said”you must be such a good friend” to which I replied “No, I don’t know her”. [pause]

At this point though, I was faced with a dilemma, you see I’m sacred, scared that if I give the groceries to this woman that I may further shame her in the eyes of her daughter and in front of those around her.
But I know I need to act.
I think I circled her twice before I was able to approach her without anyone seeing. So I go up, and just begin putting groceries in her trolley, hers and mine, and I see not shame in her but a look of such wonderment, such love, that in that moment I am both broken, and remade at the same time. [pause]

I say, “Please take these because I know what it is to be in your place, and one day you can do the same for some one else” although I’m sure its not as coherent as that. And somehow we find ourselves laughing, and she reaches over and through tears touches my face blessing me.
Not realising that in allowing me to follow Gods call in that moment it is she, who is the blessing.

Today on this last Sunday in Advent, in the midst of the hype and excitement may we too be caught up in the blessing of Elizabeth and Mary, entering all that we do with spirit a love, acceptance, seeing the good and blessing of God in all the ordinary places.

Spoken in the name of the one that is to come.
Amen

Ministry for the elderly

Well here I am after months...
I passed exams and am currently on field education in a 700 resident elder care village as a student chaplain. People here range in ability from independent residents in their own units and apartments through to hospitals and secure dementia units.

Most of my time is spent ministering to those in hospitals and with some level of dementia. It has been an amasing experience and I have found within myself a love and care for those living with dementia that I never expected. The challenge of how to nurture the soul life of those who forget I ever spoke with them moments after leaving sometimes has begun reshaping how I view God and Ministry.

Any way here are a couple of pieces I wrote as I contemplated meeting with residents and their families.

Monthly Obligations

You tell yourself,
– sorrow draped in angry shroud,
“It doesn’t really matter if I don’t visit for a couple of weeks or month’s maybe...
“It’s not like she’ll remember I came tomorrow”,
-That doesn’t change.
“By this afternoon she’ll be telling all insundry I never visit”
-that I never cared.

Yet in that moment
when you sit awkward on the edge of the bed,
primed to make the great escape at the first hint
of tiredness or distraction,
for her,
there is JOY!

As you begin the family litany
the hatched,
the matched,
–avoiding dispatched,
I see a spark
set deep in your mothers eyes,
that none of us can elicit when you’re gone.

At such times I ache to interfere,
to beseech you to look into that parchment face
to read the love written there
in a language only you can understand.

I wonder then, if you can see her lean a little closer,
her hand twitch nearer,
when I invite you to take it in your own
you flinch,

“I took it once... but she wept like a baby”, you protest,
so you don’t touch her now...
save it cause embarrassment
-to whom?

When you go
and she falls over into despair
a paid caregiver will rock her gently.

Until then,
I will resist the temptation to growl
“Hold her man,
she wont bite this forgetful mother of yours...
today she’s just a baby”.

Each Day Anew With Eve

Act 1
It’s hard to define this relationship
when each day I have to remind you
again
and again
who I am.

A little unbalanced in the extreme
when I get to keep the stories you tell
-the smiles,
and you get to remember nothing.

That painful moment in me lessens,
when you tell me once more
how glad you are we’ve found each other
-kindred spirits.

In your hand extended
I meet the confident teenager
-a wicked glint of possibility in your eye.

In another time I would have been honoured
to join you in
summer adventures long passed
but for today I will sit them on the shelf
beside your china tea cup
gathering dust.

Act 2

I am informed it is a ‘necessary cruelty’
to tell you each day
your beloved is dead
-not waiting up the way as you suppose
to take you home to a life of happy ever after.

To see your grief
Your stubborn chin raised in certainty,
-surely they must see that for today at least they are defeated!
Today their distractions
their redirections
will not pull you from your vision of a brighter day.

Instead you sit straight backed
coat on,
handbag at the ready,
Waiting for your good mother -long passed,
to take you home for tea
and warmth born of the inside out,
Her butterfly kisses the softest imaginable, on your cheek.

Good for you Eve
believe what you must
to get through this endless day.

Back in the World

Well the Semester is in full swing and I am back in the world all be it in a somewhat soft focus fashion until next week brings new glasses (heha). Went to Vaughn Park for a retreat last week on Care of the Soul using Poetry. Although it was not hugely transformative it was nice to be around a group of creative women, to play cards and night and drift in and out of sleep to the sound of waves.

Vaughn Park is beautiful and I hope to return for more than one night next year. My taste for retreat running has been peaked once more so watch this space basically. Currently I am in the St Johns Library before I head down to teach an icons class.

Below some thoughts on watching discarded cloth caught on the breeze.

Centering on my heart
for the first time in a thousand thousand years
I am met by the slip of a child.
Emancipated from a tired washing line
de-pegged she flaps in the breeze,
beckoning me to come play in dappled places.

Over hill - through moonlit stream
beyond the hard green land,
until I am lead to
the space between heartbeats
wide and silent
to find a washing line
filled with the slips of a thousand lost adventures.

Kneeling I hold my childhood slip close
caress each starched line.
Dear God
how many dreams have whisked past my busy eyes unseen?

Blessings Meg in the wind

in the break...what break

Just had a friend from home stay overnight on her way to Rome (big hellos to Benedict). Mid semester berak here although it is infact full on catch up study time here.

Not feeling very connected with God at the moment, too maxed out on pain meds for impacted wisdom tooth I guess. Was good though to sit and talk with a friend of such familiarlity that there was no need to be careful about ones words. She and I used to teach Icons in Christchurch so was good to talk with her about the group I am taking here at St johns. I am so proud of them (I know yes it is a sinbut they are all developing so well). Working on a Christ pantocrotor. Off to a retreat next week

meg

This week at St Johns

Memorial Service for fellow ordinand Jens Richardon killed in hit and run, memorial for Eru Potaka Dewes, Memorial with pacific Students for 98 killed in Ferry sinking. Poignant rich, wept when Fijian women surrounded Bishop Halapua who was kneeling behind Eucharist Table as they knealed and sang and danced the Lords prayer. Not a dry eye in the house.

One assignment in on Liberation Theology Sobrino and Christology, another due in a day or so on early Church History in Aotearoa, Psychology of Teaching and Learning Test Monday and tomorrow night possibly going to present some poetry at College poetry night if it is deemed good enough by fellow contributors. Feeling some ambivalence at that and in truth at the morning so wondering if I really need this?

Politics continue so taking a step back to refocus the old remember why you are here. Husband slowly getting better. Soon have Christian Spirituality class which I did love but on this day feel burdened by when so much is sitting and waiting for me.

Positive notes birds singing, blossom out, Tui's in the grave yard outside my window here, beautiful. In tow weeks mid semester break so doing a few days on my icon projects for college.

Dear Lord please remove the Blah Blah blah in me. trying to get myself motivated to go to Eucharist. Normally fine. Today it will all be in Maori which I usually feel fine about but sometimes I miss at least some of my own language. And yes I am aware of the dangers in these politically correct times of saying such things. Which is why I have an edit button so I may remove my colonial oppression later. Perhaps what I really need is a good old fashioned wine with my friends. CHRISTCHURCH WOMEN I MISS YOU

Oh yes and I am day four without coke, have swaped it with coke zero after discovering full on addiction...it is not the same...

Coming Up For Air

Okay my life in the last fortnight coming up for Air...

after a week of in and out of Accident and Emergency with Shawn we have settled down to the maddness of college life which includes :

Just finishing a week long preaching course...fantastic... new fav preacher Barbara Brown Taylor...totally reshaped how I look at preaching

Wrote new poem...

inspired to write some more reflections on bible ...
had Bishop Victoria up last couple of days at college had dinner with her thoroughly enjoyed that...

finished icon of John the Baptist photo coming soon...

Women's Studies commission meeting yesterday with representatives from around the pacific and here in Aotearoa New Zealand am to develop web page and poss news letter on that exciting...

Started varsity Bible in popular culture interesting tossing up between essay on Christian artists in NZ or the use of Blood in Vampire tv series as a Eucharistic metaphor...
Bought Trueblood ...loved it...wept at Eucharist in a moment overcomeness at the offering ...

got a book for my brother which I am reading first by drummer from Korn...

Missing my brother...

New lecturer at varsity on Church History who is actually passionate and excited about subject what a change...

Taken up a teaching paper at varsity..
being either a bar tender or waitress on Tuesday at Liturgical commission dinner to earn some dosh always nice...

Enjoying teaching icons...sharing teaching with art historian very interested in Orthodox view of eternity...

More to come peace and apologies for my slackness Meg in the wilderness...ps looking at changing the layout of this blog ...will see

Meg in the wind

Random Thoughts from a Wired bunny

Exams are over what is done is done.
It has been an interesting time at varsity and although I am fairly sure I will pass the majority of the courses I am now working on the whole area of refining. Coming down from exams has been odd all the hype to stay focused in study with varying success for four weeks has left me now not sure what on earth to do with my time. This week the majority of college is heading off for a week long retreat which although sounds great I have deferred as Shawn has surgery this week to have his gal bladder removed.

At first I wondered why on earth college would offer retreats now of all times, yet looking at how we are all dealing with the come down from exams it actually makes total sense. So in light of me not going on retreat I have put myself on a self imposed retreat for the next three days to write an icon. I am surprised that the icon I have begun is one of John the Baptist this is a figure that I never envisaged doing so together in prayer ,painting and study we will investigate each other.

This is also an odd time for students as we have people all round the country undergoing discernment to come as students to seminary next year and we have people hearing about ordination and placements at the other end. Several people I was on the discernment weekend are soon to be ordained and although I know this is because they finished their theological education before applying for priesthood there is a wee part of me that feels a little left behind. I knew that by switching training and moving up here I would putting off ordination by a year or two I also knew that this was the best option if I was to receive a quality education that would best equip me for the future. In saying all that I still feel a little left behind.

Ah it is way it is, week after next I will be on a week long preaching course then back into varsity. I have just had my courses confirmed they include:
Jesus the Christ a Christology paper
History of the church in Aotearoa New Zealand
The Bible in Popular Culture
and my out of faculty paper a Teaching Education paper.

And at Seminary my papers include:
A Preaching intensive
Conflict Resolution and a
Spirituality for Ministry paper.

You know through all this I think I am missing home. It has been nearly 8 months since I left home. It is my hope that the other Christchurch Ordinand here will be ordained in September. If so we are booked in to take a 'Care of the Soul' retreat then I will go back home with her to her ordination. It will be good to put my feet in home soil again.

There you go all this pontification to realise that my manic space filling is actually about the big unwind, and missing home.

Please pray for Shawn and his surgery this Thursday and for baby Samuel Davy who has been in intensive care since his birth here in Auckland pray that the swine flu that is now in the hospital keeps away from him .

thanks Peace Megan