In which I learn to value running water

Let’s talk about clean water. I grew up on a half acre in a rural area so we had all this beautiful, sweet well water growing up. I can legitimately act all snobby about the chlorine taste of city water and, being from clean-water Canada I can also be all snobby about drinking bottled water.

In England I wasn’t a huge fan of water, because I do like my water ice cold and with our tiny fridge and the general lack of ice cubes it just wasn’t a thing that was that delicious outside of the office water cooler. But the water was fine to use, of course, and we had pretty much the same situation in Germany.

So now, Shanghai. One thing that guidebooks and the internet all agree on is that you can’t drink the water and even the locals don’t drink the water and you can’t just boil it safe. It’s not that Shanghai doesn’t clean its water, it’s just that by the time it travels through aging pipes it picks up various metals and things that can’t be boiled out and which, in some cases, are actually made worse by heating.

When we first moved here it was just one of those things. But then the summer heat hit and it hit hard. By the time the highs were hitting 42c we were easily going through 10 litres a day. It was becoming a struggle just to keep enough water in the house. I could either sign up for a water delivery service, look into having a water purifier installed (and the jury is out on how effective they are), or bring home 4-or-5 litre jugs. I opted for the last one but with the heat it was a real chore to ensure that there was always enough clean water every day and every night. It meant either a sore back from carrying too much or multiple trips out in the blistering heat.

This was enough to make me realize how much we really take for granted back home. Turn on a tap and you can have as much fresh water as you like! I mean, we know that people elsewhere in the world don’t have access to clean water, but we don’t really know what that means. I still don’t really know what it means, because the farthest I had to walk for clean drinking water was to the nearest convenience store, which was rather painful in the heat but still doable.

Recently, we’ve had some improvement works at our apartment building to update the water pipes, which has meant that the water to our building is sometimes turned off. Since we can’t drink the water I didn’t think it would be that inconvenient but I was wrong. No washing clothes or bodies or dishes or floors until the water is turned back on. It just makes the house feel so dirty. Of course this was just a minor inconvenience for the greater good and the workmen were awesome about timing it outside of peak usage hours, but for those few hours it was stressful.

Clean water, piped-in water, even undrinkable but usable water… it really is a most precious gift.

Sunday Obligation Failings

A few years ago a friend complimented me on how I managed to make Sunday Mass with my two-under-two a regular thing. “Oh yes,” I thought to myself, “I really do have that dedication to my faith”. Ha!

When Mass was a 16 minute walk from the house it was easy to go, especially when it was our little family of four going and only one child was mobile.

Sunday Morning Meltdown

During those 7 long months when we were staying with family & resettling in Canada it was easy to go, because there was always a car or a ride at disposal and family to babysit the kids if they were too out of sorts to go.

Note my tired, tired eyes 

Unfortunately the last three years have been a new reality of churches far away and hard to get to, of ill health and exhaustion, and of us being lucky if we make one Sunday a month as a family. *cue gasps of horror from my regularly attending Catholic friends*

I keep telling myself that it shouldn’t be this way. When I was growing up I don’t think we ever missed a Sunday. Many of my friends have young kids and no vehicles and they still manage to go regularly. Of course, comparison is the thief of joy (my latest favourite truism). And, of course, every situation is unique. I had some health problems that were making it really difficult to get out & about and these didn’t even get sorted out until a year ago, at which point I discovered that it was the health issues and not some personal moral failing that were making it all so difficult.

Now it is hard again. The 1.5hr trek across town to the nearest church. The never ending heat and the various ailments that Annie & I have contracted from it. The stress & exhaustion of settling into a new country, even tho’ I’ve done this so many times that I hardly notice it until I stop and think. I know that I need to be gentle with myself but this is something I have never been good at.

I’m pretty sure that my root sin is pride. The last three years or so have been a great lesson in humility. I can no longer take comfort in moral superiority simply because my life has been too easy, because for a long time it has *not* been easy… but at the same time I always retain that fear of too many excuses. It’s like that sledgehammer of a truism “everyone is busy” that you can sometimes here in response to claims that your life has been busy so you’ve failed xyz.

At this point in time I’m not sure what my plan is. Perhaps I have no plan. Life changes very quickly in Shanghai. We try to keep up with liturgical celebrations at home. We pray. We sing hymns. We make plans for Mass every week and more often than not, not going is determined en route when I discover that I’m just too unwell in the heat or from a questionable stomach etc. One day the heat will lessen and one day, perhaps, our stomachs will adjust to the food and then, oh yes, things will be easier. Until that day, I remember my Great Grandparents, living in Saskatchewan in the Thirties and happy to have a priest visit their township once a month.

Resting together in St Basil's Cemetary, Yorkton SK