One of my recurring dreams is returning to where I parked my car only to find it gone, stolen. And that's just what happened in real life this morning. The car I borrow for a couple of days a week got stolen during the night.
The day has been intense. First waiting several hours to hear back from the owner with the license plate number. Then, in between phone calls and a visitor, registering the theft with the police. Eventually I connected with the dispatcher. She was so kind, "We nearly always get them back", she said. "Yes, I'm sure you've had a hard day...". Wonderful, a police woman ready to offer sympathy and understanding. I was ready to be receptive.
On a similarly intense day, although for very different reasons, I taught myself to juggle. I remember that day as being fun in the midst of all that was happening that was not fun at all. To-day I packed the Sacristy into boxes ready for the move. It was a rare pleasure to take time and care packing the items as when arranging them on an altar. I hope we can take as much care with packing the toilet brush, the kitchen utensils and the paper clips.
And when cars get old, lost or stolen chances are they will end up in Wetaskiwin, about an hours drive south of Edmonton. I was there on Sunday and spent an enjoyable few hours with a congregation member and his young family.
These cars, along with row upon row of rusting combine harvesters, tractors, plows and a couple of 'planes are part of the overflow from the Reynolds-Alberta Museum in Wetaskiwin. We were too late to go into the museum proper however the field of venerable rusting monsters was a visual treat in itself. Here's more:
As we snapped away I pondered aloud on dignity and decrepitude and wondering if there was a word between the two. And now it's obvious; not a word in-between just join 'em together to make, dignified decrepitude. That's what I see in these machines. And that's what I observed while sitting on the priory step on Sunday. The elderly woman across the road inched her way hand-over-hand on the rail, ever-sooo-sloooowly, down the steps to water a bush. Being in a state of deterioration due to old age, or long use, can be dignified. She is.
The '92 Dodge Spirit that got stolen hasn't quite achieved decrepitude, however given the chance it may live long enough to find a resting place in Wetaskiwin. "Come back! I'm calling to you sweetie".
