After what seemed like an interminable wait in the customs line back across the border, we finally handed our passports to the customs agent.
“So where were you?” He asked Peter.
“We were at a weekend retreat.”
“What kind of retreat?”
“A retreat for Oblates.”
“It’s kinda like a monk, only you can be married. My wife’s ok with it.”
“A married monk?” He shook his head, and then turned to me. “So what do you do?”
“I’m a Protestant monk. Part of a Protestant monastic community.”
“You’re a what??? What do you do?”
“We pray, and we work with the urban poor. There’s lots of them in Hamilton.”
He was obviously still perplexed, but eventually waved us through. We cracked up when we realized that as we pulled the car away, he made the sign of the cross, blessing our passage into Canada.
Here we are with our new Benedictine friend Justin… Kirk wore his hoodie so they could both be monks in the hoods…