I’ve had a bit of a challenging week … nothing serious, just the adjustment after saying goodbye to Alana, Matt and Murphy after 10 days (you would think after so many years I would be used to doing this …), and the usual chaos and discombobulation of putting the house back together after the season, and then re-orienting myself to the New Year ahead and getting back into a regular schedule.
Plus, I took a tumble Tuesday night on the street in Dartmouth on the way to a meeting. I’m fine … just the usual soreness after a fall, and some scrapes and bruises. I went down hard on my hands and knees, and I am extremely lucky I didn’t crack my head on the sidewalk or the brick wall close by. I am also nursing some extreme humiliation after needing help to get up. My biggest fear …
This week was our turn in the rotation for leading Bethany’s monthly United Church worship service at Saint Vincent’s Guesthouse. I was not feeling particularly inspired, so I went to my book of Wisdom Stories to see if something jumped out. I chose to read one of my favourites - “The Broken Pot” … a well known story that I thought paired with the scripture. As with the service in November, I was extremely grateful to have Linda Grady and several choir members with me to lead the service. The folks at the Guesthouse are so appreciative of our presence.
There are many versions of this story online, and even a few youtube videos. The quick summary is this:
“Back in the days when pots and pans could talk – which indeed they still do – there lived a man. In order to have water, every day he had to walk down the hill and fill two pots and walk them home. One day it was discovered one of the pots had a crack and as time went on, the crack widened. Finally, the pot turned to the man and said, “You know, every day you take me to the river, and by the time you get home, half of the water’s leaked out. Please replace me with a better pot.”
And the man said, “You don’t understand. As you spill, you water the wild flowers by the side of the path.” Sure enough, on the side of the path where the cracked pot was carried, beautiful flowers grew, while other side was barren.”[1]
As I was thinking about what to write about this week, I was thinking about how much I have enjoyed the conversations that I have had with many of you about this blog. I am always deeply touched by your own stories, and your expression of appreciation for the blog. And I am reminded, as the above story illustrates, that we never fully realize the consequences of our actions, however small we think they may be. When I am feeling particularly insignificant, useless, or unfocussed, it’s possible that I may still be watering the seeds that God has planted all around me.
As I was thinking about this, I remembered my first experience with a blog, which was when I was a volunteer for three months at the Corrymeela Peace and Reconciliation Centre in Northern Ireland in the summer of 2011.
At that time, I didn’t know how to do a blog – I was just looking for the most efficient way to keep my family, my close friends and my faith community up to date on what I was experiencing. One “letter” that could be posted electronically and everyone could see it.
So a couple of young adult friends of my daughter pointed me in the right direction the night before I left, and I dipped my toe into the blog water. I was very intimidated by the technology of the whole thing. But I persisted, and it did serve its purpose, keeping folks back home up to date.
When I left the Centre at the end of September, 2011, I figured I would never write in that space again. There is a way of tracking the number of “hits” or, how many people at least click on the link. I checked a few weeks after I got home and the blog had in total about 2,000 hits. Which I thought was quite a lot. I didn’t look at it again.
Then, in February of 2013 I took my first student group over, and thought, well, I guess I should start writing the blog again. When I went in to check it, I was gob-smacked to see that the number was up to 13,000. I hadn’t the foggiest idea who would still be reading it, or why ... it seemed to have a life of its own. However, one of the young adults had suggested calling it “The Corrymeela Diaries”, which meant that when folks googled “Corrymeela” … it used to be one of the first things to come up. (not any more though!)
I was nervous returning to Corrymeela after a year and a half. Would they even remember me? The first thing the Centre Director told me as we got off the bus at the Centre was an unbelievable story. They had recently interviewed a potential long term volunteer from Brazil who said that he had first heard about Corrymeela from a blog written by a woman named Martha. And they had finally figured out that was me.
I was kind of in disbelief. His name was Derrick. And he ended up as a year long volunteer, and he was actually the volunteer assigned to one of the 2014 trips that I led. Derrick from Brazil. He’s the last person on the right in the picture.
It actually happened again. In 2019, Katherine from Illinois was the volunteer assigned to our group that year. She had only been in Corrymeela for a month or so. At one point during our first evening she stopped and looked at me, and said “Did you write a blog about when you were here before?” I said “yes”. She said “I read it! I was so nervous about coming over here – wasn’t sure what I was doing, so I went online and was just looking for stuff to read about the Centre. Reading your blog made me relax a little about coming here.” Once again, I was in a bit of shock and awe.
I tell you these stories because it helps me understand that we never quite know how far-reaching our actions might be, and who might be inspired or influenced by what may seem to be random occurrences. What seeds we may be watering. I think some call it “the butterfly effect” … which says that small, seemingly trivial events can have much larger consequences.
Or, you might just call it the Holy Spirit at work in the world. I do. Have a great week.
