Surviving The Fall,24

I am going to church this morning. This will be my fifth Sunday visiting this Anglican parish, St. Faith's. I know, after some of the horrible, if true and accurate charges I have written elsewhere on these pages about the Anglican Church, there must be something seriously impaired with my thinking if I want to go there. Well, I'm going. Four visits, while not quite enough to determine a good fit, have been pleasant enough, without unpleasant surprises nor warning signs. This really is not bad. They don't all seem to be well-off burghers, but being in a well-to-do neighbourhood there are some locals represented, and I am holding out in hope that they are not the ones who live in the houses where some very angry and irrational homeowners have erected door size lawn signs accusing the provincial government of theft for modestly raising property taxes on expensive homes. From what the priest has suggested, if there are any like that in his congregation, they already know that they would do well to keep their mouths shut. I like. Do I have long-term prospects at St. Faith's? How the hell would I know? it's one Sunday at a time. I know this church has been staring me in the face two or three times a week for the last five years since the coffee shop opened across the street, which brings us to my reason for spending so much time in this wealthy neighbourhood. I simply enjoy long contemplative walks of three to four miles among the mansions and huge trees and gardens. It is quiet, and if I can ignore the whining lawn signs, downright enjoyable, though I don't think I'd want to live there. In all fairness, I really should get ready to go, and it might be better to leave the second half of this blogpost for when I come home this afternoon, following this Sunday's service.............I'm back now from church. Visit number five. Still okay. Chatted with various individuals, mostly in my age group, between sixty and death. Nice people. Some likely very conservative and traditional, a few more seem progressive and open-minded. One really old fellow, likely old enough to be my father, is really stuck on his old school version of a white Upper Canada that is the only real Canada. So, why challenge him? He's old and likely very stuck in his ways, but seems also like a good, kind sort of person. Just pick your battles. A lady near my age is in agreement with me about climate change and the environmental stupidity of people who support pipelines and dirty oil. One of the more vigorous church ladies already has tried to pressgang me to help out with the annual boulevard sale, and I have had the common sense to politely decline, at least for now. I am on my best behaviour, of course, and I am going to try to maintain and expect from myself a reasonably high standard of conduct. We are not all going to agree, but I sense that there is enough good will and patient compassion in this parish to accommodate a diversity of opinions and perspectives. This looks like a very mature group, and I'm not just thinking of age demographic. It could also be that I am the one who has had to mature. But isn't it always so? This place has the look and feel of a refuge, and for me to be safe here I am also going to have to do my due diligence to help keep this a safe place for others. There will also be challenges to grow, and to love more and to love better. We are not all going to be in agreement, and one thing I have already determined to do: that is to bury my earlier grievances against the Anglican Church. Not to forget them, nor pretend that those things never happened. But at least to acknowledge that my offenders and abusers were other people, operating in other places under other auspices. Time to give myself, and others a fresh start.