Monastery Visit

Monasteries are pretty normal places. Discussions of monasteries never really came up on the radar for most of my life. Nuns were strange people who wore strange head dresses, flew around on television shows, and prayed all day. Or maybe worked as teachers or nurses. (The name 'monastery' applies to homes for both monks and nuns in the Orthodox church. I like it - there function is the same after all.)

I've heard it told that "Nuns don't do any real work. They just pray all day." Which to me sounds like the hardest work of all.

Yesterday we went to visit a little monastery, it's resident committed to "do what she has to do." It's a normal inner suburban house, the yard full of fruit trees; fig, persimmon, quince, and self sown rocket. Except that the lounge room is a library of books, the hall is lined with little tables covered in brochures about missionaries and theological colleges, there's a men's guest room in the backyard and the garage is a chapel, complete with multiple copies of prayer and service books.

In all the talk of urban monasteries and new monasticism there always seems to be the problem of finding the right building with the most land. Perhaps it's better to start where you are. Although all the more difficult to pray by yourself than with others.

We had the great privilege of sitting around the table in the kitchen to share a meal, while our host buzzed around doing all the things you have to do when you have guests. I felt that it should have been us doing the buzzing, while our host sat down, but this is of course very difficult in someone else's home. We talked about where to find the cheapest supermarkets, and neighbours who help feed the dogs, normal things, except for the brief mention of last night's guest who had required police and ambulance to attend, which reminded me that there was some important God-work going on here.

And then, the great gift for us, we got to go outside and do some gardening. We trimmed vines, pruned bushes and pulled weeds. The kids ran around busy as beavers, enjoying being helpful and useful and part of the 'real work'. They pruned and swept and pulled and discovered, collecting a little bag of flowers and fruit and herbs to bring home.

It was fabulous, and we felt good. Then together we prayed the evening prayers. Although the kids hung upside down off the chairs at the back (what is it with my kids being unable to just sit upright) they did pray and sing along. Perhaps praying together was the most helpful thing for Sister.

Camping

We went camping in the Great Australian Bush with a young family from church and friends of friends of friends who realised they'd met at some other place once before.
It was fabulous to be outside, to let the kids get dirty, to challenge ourselves with climbing a mountain (we didn't quite make it to the top, despite the stories of the little red engine), to get to know people, to share food and recipes.
I think it's good for our kids to live with other people, even if just for a few days. They dragged others into games of cricket, helped people light fires, dragged people off to see the island in the stream and it's secret entrance, and continued on with their less-than-perfect behaviour that makes them kids, and us the parent's whose job it is to teach them.
I think it takes a certain amount of letting go on our part to just let the kids work out for themselves how to relate to people, how to behave, how to solve conflicts and ask for help. Camping is a great time for this. As parents we're busy talking to people and preparing food, and the kids are free in a wide open space where they can feel they're off by themselves doing whatever they want, like back in the good ole days when kids had to be back home by dinner time.

On Sunday morning we made damper. We built the fire in that quiet time of morning before people are really awake, made the mixture while the kids hovered around watching, and others woke up and had pancakes for breakfast. The kids ground the coffee beans we'd roasted for hours the night before.

We set up the icons in a quiet corner of the camp ground, right at the bottom of the slope of the mountain. We planned our little service as the damper cooked in the coals of the fire and everybody else quietly glanced over every now and then. Our poor old priest (that's just a saying btw) was sick and unable to serve at a liturgy. So we chanted some hymns, and read from Ascending the Heights. Then we asked God to bless our food and shared the damper we had made.

It was a great time to get away from it all, to live simply if just for a weekend. We'd love to do it at the start of every lent and maybe advent too. It was a fabulous way to share with our friends.