The Comfortable Familiar

I love the TV programme Midsommer Murders.   I think it is nostalgia.  Except for the fact that Midsommer musthave been completely depopulated considering the number of people who are killed, it reflects life in England as it was.  The England in which I enjoyed a happy childhood, a time of security and certainty.

Then life and time butted in.  What amazing changes we have seen, and in spite of it all life is good. Yet I think that as we age we increasingly enjoy those nostalgic trips. They wrap us in comforting warmth.

This past weekend I was in the Okanagan. After enjoying a day on the lake, a fire broke out very close to, and very soon after, we landed.  From the vantage point of where we were staying we watched large planes swoop in and drop retardant, soon they were joined by six small planes, which, like a line of bees, continually flew in to drop their water.  The organization was impressive, and at times I wondered how the planes did not crash into each other.  Over time we have developed better ways of fighting these fires, even though too many people still suffer.  Striving for new and better ways of doing things inhabits our DNA.

As I drove back, a friend was bewailing the troubles his golf club was having in attracting young people.  We chatted about why that was.

One of the other friends at our Okanagan weekend is a very successful architect.  MacDonalds and Tim Horton provide much of his business, and it is usually renovations.  Each franchisee must renovate their restaurant on a regular basis.  Besides the renovations they also continually change. MacDonalds constantly updates its menu.  They watch.  They adapt. They flourish.

Anglicans have also adapted over the years.  We welcomed diverse populations into our congregations.  We renewed our liturgy.  Now we run effective programs for our community. As always, we care. We try to express the love that we have so generously and freely given.

And now the renovation. Facilities to better serve our community. 

But will this be mission accomplished? 

Written by Peter Bayley

Flower Pearson