Living faithfully doesn’t just happen

In early January I went to the Habitat for Humanity ReStore in Ottawa East to donate a number of items left over from a renovation project. I had not been to the Belfast Road location before and was surprised to see it was in an industrial building which used to house the automotive machine shop I worked in for the better part of two years in the late 1970s. My mind flooded with memories as I looked at the various doorways and loading bays, recalling the bustle of the shop and the colourful characters I worked with. 

I left high school after a dismal grade 12. After exploring the possibility of studying forestry and then commercial art at the Sault College of Applied Arts and Technology, I went through a difficult period of finding my way. I had been much affected by traumas related to the death of my father years before and the instabilities that ensued. These conspired to persuade me that I would not amount to much. (It is so important to notice changes in the appearance and behaviour of children and young people, and to take the risk of asking if everything is okay.) 

After dropping out of college and making my way back to Ottawa, I experienced what I now recognize as a post-traumatic mental health crisis. By the grace of God and the kindness of others, I held together and eventually found myself a job at Asbestonos on Belfast Road. 

The structure and routine provided by that job, the camaraderie of the people I worked with, and learning how to operate various machines and specialized tools—first restoring brake drums, disks, and pads, and then rebuilding clutches—calmed my troubled mind and created space for a sense of purpose to take root. 

That sense of purpose led me to develop my interest in cross-country skiing. I became extremely fit, running and skiing for hours at a time and weight training in the gym at Carleton University for $2 a session. I would often run home from work with soot in my hair and blackened hands. My first big life accomplishment was to qualify as a Nordic Ski Instructor and teach adult classes at Mooney’s Bay. The next big accomplishment was to complete the 100-mile Canadian Ski Marathon in February of 1978. The photo accompanying this column is a montage of memorabilia from the machine shop and the ski trails.

Those years taught me a lot and enabled me to heal from things which had compromised who God had made me to be. (It is so important to help children, young people, and adults to know that bad things do not need to define who you are and who God made you to be.) 

Skiing the marathon, in particular, contained a key spiritual lesson. You can’t just say you are a marathoner: to ski 100 miles over often-challenging terrain, in highly variable weather and trail conditions—knowing the clock won’t stop and wait for you, so you must keep moving no matter what—requires discipline, focus, and practice.

The First Great Commandment, to “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and all your strength,” speaks directly to this spiritual lesson: while the grace of God will see each of us through our journey on earth, Christ-like faithfulness requires discipline, focus, and practice.

Living faithfully doesn’t just happen. You can’t be a person of prayer if you don’t pray; you can’t say you love your neighbour if you aren’t showing love in meaningful ways. You can’t trust God with your life if your sense of security depends on material things. You can’t heal unless you get into a place where you can heal. 

The season of Lent begins in this month. Try to attend an Ash Wednesday service and listen well to the exhortation to observe a Holy Lent by “self-examination, penitence, prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, and by reading and meditating on the word of God.” Take these words to heart and let them affect you; and then, with discipline, focus, and practice, do your best to live faithfully as your journey continues.