Together again – Reflections on loss

My beautiful and favourite Irish woollen cap and I are together again. As cats are said to have nine lives, this lovely green and blue topside dome of comfort and warmth is back in my hands and on my head. During a recent trip to Toronto to launch my recent book I left it, somewhere. My lovely host and newfound friend, Nancy, and her sister Deborah searched high and low—in two cars, one restaurant, in their kitchen, living room, guest room, and upstairs washroom—with no success.

I thought long and hard—where could it be?—and then I remembered that I had visited their local church where I discovered a very interesting three-manual electronic organ. I sat down to play, and obviously took off my hat, which is unnecessary as one does not perform with one’s head but with both hands and two feet. It must have been warm in the room, so I took it off and placed it on the console. So I sent them over to the church, and voila, they sent me a picture of what was once lost (cue music) but was then found. John Newton and I now share a sweet “come-to-Jesus” tune.

Now it took a while for mailing and transit, but today, Friday, February 16, 2024 it arrived in my mailbox. You may rightly ask, what’s the big deal? Well it’s a very, very lovely hat, comfortable to wear and classy to brandish. Purchased during our recent trip to Ireland, from Galway’s Ó’Máille Store, since 1997 located at 16 High St., in the heart of Galway city’s pedestrian district it is manufactured  by Mucros Weavers. It is a 100% wool Baseball cap with a quilted lining for added comfort and warmth. I have worn it almost daily upon return from Ireland, even in some warmish weather, though it is best enjoyed on dreary, wet days. You can smell the pleasure.

Please understand that I lose things all the time, but the other occasion I lost this same cap was in our local Summerland Church. This cap is religious! Leaving the sanctuary in a hurry one day, I left it in a pew. An enthusiastic sidesperson placed it at the back of the 1910 parish church interior. I found it a week or so later; Jesus, and I  smiled.

Lest you think me totally careless, know that when not in use I place it carefully in retrievable locations. When riding in the car I place it between the two front seats far from a door where it might fall on the street (though this has admittedly occurred). I never place it on the car roof, and once home usually return it to the shelf in the mud room. If attending an event I fold it up placing it in my carry bag (hoping that I do not lose my carry bag). No system however is 100% effective it seems.

I have a reputation for losing things especially during travel. As one of our trips to South Africa drew to a close our tour guide presented me with a bag of clothing items I had left behind on our progressive journey towards our safari. During one particular COVID online broadcast service from St. Paul’s Cathedral in Kamloops (the “other” St. Paul’s) I advised the production team that I had lost my glasses. With two minutes to broadcast, three people lunged into the chancel wilding scouting for my glasses; Our janitor recovered them the next day.

I do tend to lose everything, including glasses, my glasses case, phone, tablet, clothing including shirts and sweaters, pieces of camera gear . . . the list goes on. My most public and famous loss happened in 2002 in Johannesburg during the United Nations World Summit on Sustainable Development. From our position high up on the bleachers, a half-dozen of us Anglicans watched a global negotiation session. I used a small monocular to study the faces of participants. All went well until I relaxed my hand, and down the monocular went, clanging against the metal supports, drawing the attention of at least one security guard. Picture this, six Anglicans, one delegate, and one somewhat anxious Nigerian security guard, searching, not for a bomb but a monocular. It remains there to this day.

Loss is part of my life, and likely yours dear reader. Loss is part of life, period. Over the years I have witnessed loss of all sorts—in families and relationships, in business, in health, throughout and amidst all of life. Arguably the saddest loss appears as dementia claims the life, memory, and presence of loved ones, step by step by step. So much of creation is now irretrievably lost—ice flows, forests, fresh and salt water, minerals, flora and fauna, communities of love. Going, going, gone! Lost.

Closer to home, faith communities and church (Anglican and others) are going, going, gone. In learning of and moving through the experience and consequences of colonialism we hope to lose negative aspects and practices of our history. We have lost so much innocence, though once shed, a new day is dawning.

The Hebrew prophet Isaiah names the truth, that loss is not always lost. In Creator God, there is a well of wisdom, presence, love, and truth that is inexhaustible. “So shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.” (Isaiah 55:11). I shall hang on to this promise, and I shall hang on to my lovely cap, a mere cloth accessory that brings me so much joy.

UPDATE: The morning following publication of the above blog I lost the cap again while walking the dog on Cartwright Mountain. Daughter Hannah thankfully retraced my steps and found it. Life #3.