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Today I went to the igloo church - for all you southern folk no it’s not a REAL igloo (it’s 25 degrees here)…but it’s built to look like one.  I’ve been meaning to try it out for a year now (I have no excuses for putting it off this long).  As my first time in a Catholic Church I must say, I spent most of mass a lost puppy.  There were lots of verbal responses, prayers and things that the congregation knew (I had considered mouthing random words to give off the impression that I knew what I was supposed to say ‘orange pineapple orange pineapple’ but decided being a newbie was OK and just listened).  Things I wasn’t used to from my protestant-ish upbringing…  The priest (shoot, do they call them priests?  Fathers…ahh…), whom I have great respect for (he is a social-worker at our hospital) wore green robes and there was a mini igloo safe at the back of stage (church version of a narcotics cupboard I am guessing) where they kept the gold chalices for communion.  Sorry, did I mention their chalice cupboard was shaped like an igloo?  I want ours at the hospital to be shaped like an igloo.  Ha.

Anyway - Matthew (er Father Matthew) spoke about finding your treasure and giving up everything you had to secure ownership of it.  And I thought about all the applications for that message - the goals we set for ourselves in life (stop at nothing to achieve them), the goals I have for personal growth, and achieving healthy personal relationships (nothing satisfies quite like overcoming obstacles in this category).   I thought about my treasures…and how sometimes it’s easy to lose focus and and forget to put my whole heart into them.  I had only woken two hours before…and these were deep thoughts.  Note to self: start drinking coffee.

The next thing that happened as I walked home: I was flagged down by some local people who are often found wandering the town or sitting on a particular stoop day or night.  Many suffer with alcoholism and many I see regularly at the hospital.  One woman, who has given me a large amount of drunken grief in the past (hates me one second, loves the the next) says hello.  A man, sitting beside her, tells me that one time, he saw angels around the igloo church and the moon split in half.  The man beside him asks me how long I’ve been in town.  Then the woman pipes up ’she’s my nurse’.  One of the men calls me a ‘white angel’.  I feel awkward.  I joke and ask if being a white angel is anything like being a blue angel? (No one gets it and I feel more awkward).  The woman asks me for ten dollars (I declined).  Then she asks me to come with her into the church and help her pray.  I feel completely wrong for the task but can’t convince her of this.  She grabs my hand and we go back to the church.  Another man follows us in but leaves after he realizes there is no soup.

Some days I just feel overwhelmed by the amount of sadness some people incur over a lifetime (not that much of it isn’t a direct result of choices they’ve made).  Even a short one.  It seems unfair that some suffer so much and others so little.  My obstacles seem small now.  Unknowingly, she gives me perspective.  And a severe need to watch Clueless (if that doesn’t numb my mind, nothing will).

Walking home, for real this time, my head is muddled.  Good thing it’s a clear day out; these thoughts cannot be straightened indoors.  Required: running shoes, ipod and another note to self: get a dog.

A month or so ago, while walking a friend’s pup on Boot Lake Beach, I noticed a red area on the ground.  Turns out it was a bunch of rusted nails left over from bonfires (and when I say a bunch I mean a ton).  Looking over my shoulder, I saw children swimming nearby.  What is a well-used area by many doing kept in this condition?  At home that night, I thought ‘who is responsible to clean that up?  Who looks after these types of things in this town?  Who do I ask to find out?’

A month later it has just occurred to me that, at least in part, I am responsible.  We all are.  So I went back to the beach today and spent an hour picking up nails and glass.  I needed a second grocery bag to support all the weight of hundreds of nails and bits of bottle glass (I couldn’t believe how many there were).  Luckily, two beach visitors were kind enough to give me grocery bags to help out.

A good lesson in: you shouldn’t be angry about a problem unless you’re willing to be a part of the solution.  If it bothers you, fix it.  I hope next time, I’ll respond far sooner than a month (what was I thinking?!).  Also, I should use gloves next time…(slap on wrist).

I have plans to drop the nails off (in a safe box) at the town office, with a letter of concern for the state of some of the public areas I use regularly (the giant post hole in the parking lot in front of the bottle depot for starters) in an effort to keep accidents to a minimum (and I say this with some selfishness because when accidents happen, I get to deal with them in emergency).

Next task: grabbing all that garbage out from under the deck at the East corner of Tununuk and Mackenzie (cause that really bugs me to walk past!).

Next next task: to locate the source of all these black flies.  And to mercilessly destroy them all.

Haikus are easy,

but sometimes they don’t make sense;

Refridgerator.

(On a t-shirt I want)