The Cathedral
Was my safe nest
In the middle
Of that hard winter,
When all I’d worked for,
And wanted
Took flight
From my open hands.
I remember painting the walls
Of my new bedroom with mom.
Bright white.
In my last house I’d painted colour over white walls.
In this one, white was all I wanted.
White, blank space.
Symbolizing freedom.
Newness.
That room really felt like a nest.
It was so high and the sky so big above it.
I could peer down into the neighbour’s perfect yard below
And slowly watch her garden grow.
It’s a strange place to be
When you’re hurriedly,
But needfully,
transplanted.
But this new, white place,
Had only new memories.
That’s exactly what I needed.
God knew.
And the safest person
Was there, with an open heart,
Ever loyal,
Through changing seasons.
And being with her,
My friend,
Was what made the Cathedral
Home….
Because home is not
A place.
It’s people.
Safe people.
How grateful I was
To watch her zz plant grow
There on the library table
Even through the coldest
And darkest of January mornings.
How grateful I was
For meals with a friend again,
Someone to come home to,
Movie nights,
Worship songs
Filling the piano room,
And spilling out the windows,
As soon as we could open them.
Hours spent
Reading in the sunshine
In the hammock.
I think it was the last time in my life
When I felt the least responsible
For where I lived.
I hadn’t felt that since I left my parents home.
She took on all the “adult” work
Of bills and renovations and maintenance.
I just paid a rent cheque
And chipped in with chores.
That was humbling at first.
Cause I had been so proud of my house,
before, and my adult life.
Of doing all the things.
Being in charge.
But what was at first humbling,
Become restful.
It’s what helped make it my safe nest.
I was allowed to be dependent,
And at ease.
That spring,
My eagle arrived,
Much to everyone’s surprise,
Including mine.
I remember the chilly spring day
I came home breathless,
And late, very late,
For supper,
And excited,
Babbling to Aimee about
The artwork Kevin and I
Were doing on the school windows.
She knew right from that moment.
It began.
It was on her piano bench,
Sitting side by side,
With the dusk June light pouring in
The windows around us
That he and I
Voiced the words that
Maybe we’d give this a try.
It was that summer that
We welcomed our third friend
To the Cathedral.
Christianne.
And the kitchen began to smell
Like Japanese Village
On steroids.
And the three of us
Would walk down to the Ice Hut
For ice cream in our flip flops,
And ride down the trails
Alongside the wheat fields,
And holler hello’s
From the balcony
To Christianne’s nieces
As they biked down the street,
And we’d stay up late
Lost in conversation
And it felt like we moved from
Roommates,
To family.
We’d pack the house
With friends
And friends of friends
And hoot and holler
Over ridiculous games
And eat way too much.
We decorated for Christmas,
Aimee-style, and did facial masks
And opened stockings
Christmas morning.
Aimee got her masters
And poured over the books,
And then enlightened us with
Deep discussions over dinner
About leadership,
And education
And society
And we wrestled together with what it looked like
to be Jesus followers
in it all.
I loved Saturday mornings,
Cause it was sunny in my room
And I’d listen to a podcast
And clean the little nest
I was so grateful for.
Then I’d go downstairs
And Aimee would be reading her Bible
And drinking coffee
And looking out the window
And Christianne would be
Making hash,
With avocados,
for breakfast.
It was from that house
I left for the hot desert
In the dead of winter,
With my man
For a week.
I returned to the Cathedral,
To no one’s surprise,
Engaged and walking on air.
For 3 delightful weeks
I rode that wave of euphoria
And delved into wedding planning
With my dear roomies
By my side.
But then it all came
To a screeching halt,
The day we chose my dress,
And the highways were empty at 5 pm
And toilet paper was suddenly scarce.
Then we spent the spring,
In a weird limbo place,
Of faith and fear.
Aimee worked from home
In the piano room.
Missy, the green eyed,
Curly haired puppy, joined us,
And peed on the floor
And made us laugh.
The fridge died and
We covered it with graffiti
To remind ourselves of the truth,
And we combed through
Every online dress shopping website
Known to woman
To find bridesmaids dresses
And create online wedding registries
When stores were closed.
I’d spend my Saturdays,
Helping Kevin paint his house,
Soon to be our house.
We were painting it all white.
Newness. Freedom.
White.
I’d be so happy to return,
Paint smattered and tired,
To the Cathedral,
To order,
And a place for everything,
And rest.
Spring did finally come,
Despite worldly chaos.
I walked in the graveyard
And sang with the robins
as the green grass appeared.
Then the amazon boxes arrived
And piled in the piano room.
Christianne wrapped each one in white
With pretty bows.
The wedding guest list was trimmed,
Extensively.
I remember crying in the white hammock
With Dani on the phone,
Lamenting that we wouldn’t have
The weddings we always
Dreamed of.
But the Cathedral,
And God,
Held us.
The secrets
And joys
Of wedding-ness
Still seeped in
All over the place
That June.
Covid could not
Keep us down.
My unfailing roomies
Threw the best wedding shower
I could have dreamed of.
Kevin and I stocked his
Freshly floored living room
With more wedding gifts
Then he imagined could be given.
We got through online teaching,
And left our laptops behind,
For summer again,
Round the fire at the cabin,
On the boat with the sky above,
And then home again
To running water
And the wedding whiteboard,
Each day’s to-do’s checked off
One summer day at a time.
Packing tape kept me in business
Upstairs in my nest,
Tucking away all my things,
Cause I was going to leave
The Cathedral.
The heavy boxes and furniture
Piled high in Dad’s truck,
And my nest was empty but for
A mattress on the floor
And a suitcase in the closet.
In that bare, white, sunny room,
My safe nest from the storm,
I donned the wedding dress of my dreams.
We drank sparkling cider in wine glasses
And ate dainty breakfast finger food
While Chantal, from across the street,
Did our make up
And Steph did our hair,
And mom tied my bouquet together,
All there in the Cathedral’s sunny kitchen.
Then the pictures were taken,
And the wind blew us across the street and
We were off to the wedding.
And I left the Cathedral
behind.
I can quickly go back
To 5 pm on a Wednesday in September,
coming home from work
tired, but fulfilled,
adding my used containers to Aimee’s
in the sink,
breathing in the smell of the BBQ,
hearing Christianne set timers on her phone,
sitting down round the table,
singing the Doxology as our blessing over the meal,
Aimee harmonizing of course,
and then sharing our hearts,
unloading our cares,
laughing at our BEST parts of the day,
and taking turns doing dishes afterwards
to loud, fun music
or a hilarious sitcom in the background.
Now-a-days,
The Cathedral is no longer in order.
Boxes pile up,
And soon trucks will be filled
And my former roomies
Will be taking the adventure
That comes to them
beyond this wee town.
God, I am ever grateful
That Aimee bought that house,
Back then,
And invited me in
When I needed it most,
And that Christie joined us,
And our memories were,
Each day,
So rich and full.
It’s always hardest
For me to say goodbye
To places
Where my memories
Are held.
But come to think of it,
Memories aren’t within four walls,
But within our minds.
And there are so much more
To come.
Goodbye, Cathedral.
How well we lived in you.
How deep we grew in you.
And Praise God,
from whom
All blessings flow.
That’s You.
sacred rest 