Daily Archives: September 1, 2005

In Hot Water

Tonight I came home and my first job was to assist with some chemistry homework.  As we looked at why glycine was an amino acid we heard an expletive – loud enough to hear from the basement.  Started with F it did!  Then there was relative silence so, hoping no one was too seriously injured, I went down to check out the progress on the basement bathroom.  Michelle had run headlong into a 2×4.  But the bathroom has come a long way.

The kids left.  They are staying with Michelle’s mom at the farm.  I loaded and turned on the dishwasher.  All was going well till a horrible banging began as if someone was bashing the contents of the dishwasher against the wall.  I opened the door of the dishwasher expecting it to shut itself off.  The water kept running – pouring into the dishwasher.  The banging continued.  So off went the water under the sink.  But I could not find a shut off valve to the dishwasher.  So I ran down and checked where the noise in the floor beneath me was actually coming from.  I ended up shutting off the water to the whole house.  It stopped the noise but from the small copper pipe in the ceiling of the bathroom came a steady but sure stream of water – down into the wall somewhere.  Not good, I said to myself.  The water will just have to stay off till we get a plumber tomorrow.  I do not want a flood in the night.  I cycled the dishwasher till the water drained but I think something may be wrong with the dishwasher and the violent vibrations have loosened a fitting somewhere. 

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So The Journal has launched.  Check it out.  I have to recommend the article on Liminality of the Eucharist.  I guess it “resonated” with me. 

The celebration of Jesus’ last supper is always a “thin” space for me.  As I celebrate it I remember so many things.  Of course the main reason for remembrance is the sacrificial gift of Christ himself in his death and resurrection.  I also remember times past; times when I have shared in this sacrament with people I loved – love still but am not with physically any more.  Saints who have gone before like my mother, my grandparents, Vanette who chose to spend her last days in the Congo with the people she loved, that whole cloud of witnesses that carried the word along in their own time so that we know it still today.  And there is also a living contingent of saints that are partaking in the same feast at other tables, in other places and times, that are joining together with me in remembering.  It is a very connecting sacrament for me; this huge table of the Father’s where all sorts of children scoot their chairs up close so that they can be in Jesus’ presence, loved intensely by him as individuals yet all together at the feast.

The rest of The Journal is just as good.  The photography by Spencer Burke is  – well look at it yourself – my words can’t describe the little boys eyes in the first photo.

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