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I went to Oakville today, to meet with Fr. A and other involved folks about my upcoming stint at St. Cuthbert's. I think it's going to be a good experience...I learned an enormous amount about parish leadership just chatting with him over lunch. He's a practical, "how does this really look in practice" kind of guy. His first concern is the pastoral reality...it's a trait I've found in all the rectors with whom I've worked and is enormously encouraging. The question isn't "is everyone behaving as the church expects," but rather "how can the church embody Christ in this situation?" I think we need more of that, ahem, in certain quarters. To get there and back I ride the streetcar way out to Long Branch, and then the GO train to Oakville. On my way home a young woman sat right in front of me. Her hair was extremely long, and when she sat down a good portion of it draped over the back of her seat...into my lap. I was reading a book and had my bag on my lap, which limited where I could put my arms. I tried to shift about to avoid her tresses, but the seats are pretty tight. I ought to have tapped her on the back and told her straight off, but I was a bit embarrassed by the whole situation. I held my tongue, hoping she'd only ride a few stops. No such luck. She stayed on all the way to my stop and past...half an hour with this woman's hair in my lap. With each stop it just became more embarrassing. "Yeah, your hair is in my lap but I haven't mentioned it until now." She'd think I was some sort of hair-fondling pervert. When a large man sat next to me a couple stops later I ran out of hairless places to put my hands. By the time I got off I felt like I should buy her dinner, at least. I'm at least glad she wasn't in the "I don't wash my hair" camp. Yeesh. |
