at grace

I had to write. Today I had the lovely experience of being in a community of people who instantly loved me; they swarmed me with encouragement. I stood (and sat) there stunned, almost suffocated by grace.

I had never really entered the world of liberal, wine-drinking, "holy shit" speaking, catholics before last night.

When is that last time that someone told you (repeatedly, and in front of a crowd) that your presence (not anything you've done, or even really who you are) is a blessing, a delight - told you with rosy cheeks and a twinkle in their eyes, with a loud voice, with wild gesticulations, with JOY!

I cannot remember.

We talked about social justice and the church. Grace. Mercy. Peace. There were people from government, schools, Scarborough mission; they spoke of 'our' collective history, the history of resistence against injustice, poverty; they recounted stories of protests, jail time.

They spoke of faith as if it was meant to change the world. They spoke as if the words, "I believe in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit" were a radical declaration of compassion married to action. Spirit and power and mystery crackled throughout conversations.

There is a deep and holy cluster of men and women who believe in fighting for justice and mercy and peace. They have invited righteous anger in for tea, lent it a pair of slippers, made friend with it. There to stay. Burning away fear. And pain. Refining their God bits. Making them holy.

For this I am grateful.