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I have to admit, I've been an Olympics junkie lately. (Canadian women's hockey - woo-hoo!) I'm done by 1pm on Sunday, Monday is my day off, and Tuesdays I come home after the breakfast ministry...so I have lots of daytime. It's been cold enough outside that outside is not where Aaron wants to be, so I've been following the medal chase in Torino. Favourite sport? Curling. Yeah, I know...not sexy at all. I suppose I like it because it's a game I could actually play. I'm not about to try freestyle skiing, and bobsleds cost too much. Luge and skeleton are just insane, and I'm nowhere near graceful enough for figure skating or tough enough for hockey. That leaves cross-country skiing (see above, my interest in spending long periods of time outside in the cold) and that one where you ski and shoot. Pass. I like watching them, but doing them would kill me.
Still...looks like a fun game. This morning I was in charge of the breakfast ministry. Fr. B, the priest who had been in charge, has been given a parish and has moved on. Until a permanent replacement can be found, Fr. W and I will be splitting Tuesday and Thursday mornings. What it translates into is me doing less cooking and serving, more talking to people and walking about, which is fine by me. I did enjoy serving the food - there's something very Christ-like about directly feeding hungry people - but the chance to interact and get to know them is even more rewarding. One fellow told me about his apartment "It's concrete, has bars on the windows. It's strong." So is he. He's a stout man, bald and heavy-browed with a jutting jaw. He looks like he should be a henchman to a medieval villain, but he's actually very gentle. He told me that he sleeps next to the laundry room, which means that he can do his laundry at 3am if he wants. Another man told me proudly that he was 71, had worked on a farm his whole life, and that he'd stopped drinking four years ago. He had kind, laughing eyes and reminded me strongly of my grandfather. A woman wanted to make sure I understood that when the Regent Park public housing comes down it better not be replaced by a bunch of condos for rich people. I tried to assure her that the city planned to build the same number of public housing units as they're removing, but a life of being played by (and playing, no doubt) the system have left her wary. Of course St. Bart's has little or no say in the redevelopment plans, and I have even less. That didn't matter...she just wanted to be heard. Society has little time for the opinions of the poor. It was an interesting sensation, being "in charge." I was there for the same purpose as last week - to help feed hungry people - but this week that purpose was filtered through a position of authority. Some people, most of them twice my age, called me "Father." They don't know (or care) about the niceties of church titles - all they know is that I was the one running the show. I suppose that's the paradox of servant leadership. I was there to serve, to make a meal available, a servant of God and of the people who came to eat. But I was also there to lead, both the servers and our guests. I was recognized as a figure of authority, as someone who represents the church. That's a rather imposing thought...to the people who came for breakfast, I was the face of the church. I'd better make darn sure I'm as good a representative as I can be! |
Curling is a sport at my speed, though "sport" might be an overstatement. Any activity that allows you to drink a cup of coffee - while playing - is not a sport at all. I have trouble calling baseball a sport (so much standing around, doing nothing) and golf is pure game...so I can't go calling curling a sport just because I like it and would want to call myself an athlete if I played.