Posted on by erinnoxford · 3 Comments

Roots and Wings

I remember the first time I met Kimberley (who I usually simply call Kim). She arrived in our former building and was full of energy. Little did I know then that Kim and I would develop such deep friendship and camaraderie. She has been on the whole wild journey that is The Dale. Along the way we have shared countless cups of tea, brainstorming sessions, and walks by the lake. Kim has seen me in the depths of grief, and the heights of joy. We have accompanied one another to things that required support. I even had the honour of baptizing her in Lake Ontario.

At The Dale we talk a lot about how everyone is invited into full participation of the community, and that this looks very different for each of us. We celebrate how unique we each are and the various gifts we have to offer. This is not static either- what we might have the capacity to bring at any given time can change. Kim is a wonderful example of this. She knows her nomadic spirit might call for a while, but she always comes back, willingly inhabits a number of different roles, and arrives as herself.

I am pleased to share what Kim has written about finding a home and developing roots at The Dale. Kim- I am grateful for and love you.

“Anyone who knows me will certainly get a good laugh to hear that my home community and church literally has no walls of its own. Kind of ironic given my nomadic spirit and need to go on adventures a few times a year. The Dale Ministries became my foundation when I could not fit in anywhere long enough to put down roots to build a home.

When I returned to Toronto after being away for several years, I needed to rebuild my life and figure out how to put down some roots. This was at the same time that Erinn needed some self-care time away from work. Since I had a background in community development work, I was able to step into an interim staff role until she was ready to return. When she returned, I decided to stay and continue to be part of the church community that had become dear to my heart, never realizing that her return would also bring a huge change to how we did things. In order to stay stable and grow we would have to leave our home base. In Erinn’s wisdom and inner strength, she knew we could do it and continue with our community while embracing our need to become mobile. So, we downsized our belongings and literally spilled out into the streets, leaving our footprints (in chalk paint) along the sidewalk. We became nomads without walls.

This change strengthened our community in ways we could never have imagined! We connected with other organizations in the neighborhood to host our drop-ins and we met in the park on sunny days and our community grew and developed into a strong extended family for many of us.

In spite of our circumstances we became stable in our mobility, looking out for each other and “breaking bread” with one another when our hunger for spirit and community needs were high. And we grew! We have continued to grow, even reaching a point where we have needed to take on additional people to help in order to continuously build around our shared community needs. We now have an outreach team which I feel so honoured and proud to be part of.

I now have ROOTS. I now have a home base that has embraced my quirkiness and I have developed strong WINGS because of it. I still have my adventures and yet I also now have my foundation in my spirit as I return to a community that embraces me as I am. Ironically I am the most stable I have been in my life and I am so grateful for how the Dale Ministries has shown me the light at the end of the tunnel, and that I can now say I am home and WE are family!

Blessings, Kimberley”

Erinn and Kim
Posted on by erinnoxford · 1 Comment

Keeping it Real on a Sunday

It’s a Sunday at The Dale. The first thing we do is get the “nave” ready, otherwise known as the sanctuary, for our gathering at 2 pm. Songbooks are placed in every other row. A small wooden table is positioned at the front, on which we put two plates: one with bread and one with little plastic cups containing grape juice. There is a candle too. A community member routinely trims the wick and shaves down the sides, a skill learned earlier in life and now part of their Sunday role. A basket on a stand is placed to the left side of the table for our offering. 

There is a beautiful grand piano that I get to play during the service. Behind me is a community member who plays the guitar (he likes to call it his “godtar”), usually with an amp precariously placed on a stool. This friend prefers to do the intros and likes to wail throughout. We invite people to choose songs at various points in the service. We usually start with at least three, because folks LOVE to sing at The Dale. 

We mean it when we say, “come as you are”, and so everyone arrives with a variety of things going on. Sometimes this is especially messy. It can mean having hard conversations in the foyer, or dealing with a conflict, or simply listening because someone is desperately sad, or leading a person to a spot where they can begin to sober up. Sometimes I am the one who feels overwhelmed with life, which is true on this day. 

Given all of this, we choose to start our time together in silence each week. Though the space is not always entirely quiet, the point is to begin the work of settling our own hearts and minds and re-adjusting our gaze. Then we sing, we offer one another peace (which is helpful on those days we aren’t feeling very peaceful), we are given opportunity to share what we are grateful for or are struggling with, we pray, we listen, we offer gifts (everything from money to coupons to mittens to little notes that say, “I will give a smile to everyone I see this week” or “I will help hand out the meals on Monday”), and we share communion. On this day a disagreement occurs between two people but is rectified during the prayer time with astonishing transparency and repentance. 

Today we considered the parable of the Prodigal Son. Which son do we identify with? The one who left? Or the one who stayed? We think about how we sometimes do unhealthy things that we need to stop doing, and also how we are invited to turn away from the failures, guilt, or regrets that bind us to the past, the sorrows and losses that keep us from being fully alive, or the fears that control our lives and keep our world small. We are invited into the warm embrace of God, whether we are the brother we went away, or the one who stayed. 

There is a strong rhythm to our time on Sundays, though each week is unique. We are co-creating something special: a place that is as safe-ish as possible, and where room is made for the sacred, all are welcome, and voices too often marginalized are centred. I am often moved to tears when I look around at our beautiful motley crew. They know how to keep it real and push me to do the same. For that, and our shared journey, I am deeply grateful. 

Posted on by erinnoxford · 2 Comments

525600 Minutes

As we hit a decade of being The Dale, I have been in a reflective mood. Most recently this has been about our staff team. Not everyone might know that ten years ago I was the only staff member. With time that number has blossomed into our current team of four. To say we experience a lot together is an understatement. While each year has brought its own challenges, I think navigating a second year of pandemic life in 2021 can be categorized as unique (though that sentiment is now bleeding into the first few months of 2022).

There are 525600 minutes in a year. As a familiar song asks, “how do you measure a year in a life? In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee, in inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife?” I don’t know exactly how many of these minutes The Dale team has been together, but I know the number is high. It is also hard to gauge how many cups of coffee we have consumed, how many bouts of laughter we have shared, how many steps we have walked along Queen Street West, how many pieces of PPE we have worn, how many tears have been shed.

While there is a strong rhythm of life at The Dale, every day brings surprises. Sometimes these are happy: we have a great interaction with a stranger, or the exact thing we are running low on shows up as a donation, or we are invited to do something for a community member that is both random and wonderful. Sometimes these are sad: we can’t find housing for a friend who is exhausted from living outdoors, or we have to call 911, or we get the dreaded news that someone else has died.

So, given the complexity of our day-to-day life, how DO we measure a year? The same song suggests, “how about love? Measuring love? Seasons of love?” Yes. This I can do, not because love is easy, but because there are markers for it, including patience, kindness, a lack of envy, boasting or pride. Love does not dishonour others and is not easily angered. Love protects, trusts, hopes and perseveres. I bear witness to how we are working to love one another as a team, including the way we check in with each other and pray together (A LOT). We talk through things. I am confident we have one another’s backs.

Joanna, Meagan and Olivia are precious to me. In 2021 they stood with me during some very dark days, practically and emotionally. I know I can be vulnerable and transparent with them. They support and encourage me in my role at The Dale and even cheerlead my wildest ideas. We are there for each other in all these ways. Last year brought the four of us challenge, fatigue, and grief. Fortunately, we didn’t have to go through it alone. Believing that joy is not simply an emotion, we even found it in the hardest of things.

We like to say that life is both messy and beautiful, generally speaking and specifically at The Dale. We want to live into that tension, because both are true- one does not cancel out the other. While I might not remember every moment of 2021, I do identify it as another season of love for our team. I am glad to already be into the next 525600 minutes with them and our community.

Posted on by erinnoxford · 1 Comment

Learning to Be a Good Hospital Visitor

There are some hospitals that I know really well: the different entrances, where the elevators are, which area has the best coffee. There are halls that I know will be quiet and I can get away with pacing and praying in them. Sometimes I am greeted by doctors, nurses, and chaplains by name. This is because over the years I have spent a lot of time being with people who have been hospitalized.

Over the last couple of years, visiting hospitals was largely prohibited, or if not, made very challenging. When Dion was in acute care last fall, I had to make an appointment for every visit, and was only allowed to stay for one hour at a time. It was rare to be allowed to visit community members of The Dale, even though many found themselves in the Intensive Care Unit. Only occasionally would being a member of the clergy allow me access. Calling the nursing station to get an update and leave a message became the norm.

Fortunately, this is all changing. Which has got me thinking about the things I’ve learned around being a visitor from those I visit. My mother notably taught me a lot, as one who lived in hospital for the last thirteen years of her life. I remember her coming up with a list of do’s and don’ts, all articulated both gently and clearly (very much her way). I notice myself hearing her voice when I arrive at the door of someone’s room, reminding me to announce my presence and ask permission before entering.

When going to a hospital, make sure you know the visiting policy and hours. If possible, connect with the person you are visiting to make a plan. Also, it is important to understand that, even if it has been a journey to get there, it might not be the right time for a visit. There are any number of things that could make it a bad time: nursing care, a doctor finally being able to do a consult, fatigue, visiting with someone else, needing time to discuss something important with a family member. It will matter that you showed up, even if you cannot stay.

It is good to not overstay. If you call ahead of time, ask how long of a visit is helpful. If you are only able to stay for a short time and know that an extended visit might be hoped for, be upfront about that too. Learn to read cues, for instance, is the person you are visiting starting to nod off? Are they pressing the call bell for medical attention? That could signal it is time to go.

Ask what side of the room is best for you to be on. Often a person cannot easily reposition themselves in bed and if you are on the wrong side, it will take up energy to connect well. If you bring flowers, bring something to put them in. I have seen countless bouquets of flowers falling over because the only container available is a disposable urinal- not the best way to admire such a gift. Be aware that flowers might not be the most appropriate gift if there are allergy concerns, either from your friend or their roommate.

Be careful about how you talk about hospitals. Sharing your terrible experience of one or talking about the bad food is not helpful in the moment. Those stories are best kept for a different and more appropriate time. Every person is unique when it comes to topics of conversation. My mom loved hearing what was going on in my life, or talking about art, or sharing about a recipe she saw on television that I might like to try. Sometimes all she needed was for me to listen, or simply be there and not say anything at all. She would also ask for me to tidy her side table, or retrieve something from the closet, or put a new picture on the wall. Once I was seated, I would ask for her direction about what she needed for the visit to be life-giving.

Just this morning I heard from someone who has been hospitalized and needs a visit. I count it a real privilege to be asked, and am so relieved that the hospital will allow me in. I asked if this person needed me to bring anything, and the answer was no, just myself. This reminded yet again of the importance of practicing presence. It isn’t always easy visiting a hospital, and for some it can be downright overwhelming. If you are the one hospitalized, it can feel extremely vulnerable and lonely, whatever the reason you are there. The truth is, we need each other- in good times and bad, in hospital and out.

My daughter Cate, visiting with my mom.
Posted on by erinnoxford · 3 Comments

Beginning Again

I have very vivid memories of the beginning of Covid, especially at The Dale. Just the week before the world shutdown, we held our Monday Drop-In as usual. In that moment we had no idea of what was to come. We encouraged people to use sanitizer, as well as our little hand-washing station, one that almost looked like something you would find in a dentist office. I even suggested that we didn’t want to be alarmist about the just-starting-to-make-the-news-virus during our announcement time. Within days everything changed.

The first few weeks we cooked hotdogs for people on our little charcoal BBQ and served them outside. No longer able to meet indoors for our Breakfast and Art Drop-In, we began making breakfasts to go: hard-boiled eggs, yogurt, fruit, juice, and a muffin in a brown paper bag. We gathered beside the building where we would normally be hanging out inside to distribute the meals, until it was clear the police were watching and began to encourage us to move along. Then buying groceries became a challenge because stores would only let me buy one dozen eggs. The volume of food we needed for The Dale was perceived to be fending and hoarding for myself- something I could explain if given the opportunity, though that was not always possible.

I will never forget having to write a letter for each of our staff proving that we were front-line workers, therefore allowing us to be out in public during the lock-down should we be pulled over. It made the situation glaringly real. I still have mine in my backpack. More importantly, I will never forget the impact on our community. For those able to shelter-in-place, but with limited resources, the isolation was devastating. For those without housing and unable to access the shelter system, there was truly no where to go: no bathroom access, no places to warm-up, no benches to sit on without harassment. And The Dale, an organization without our own building, could not offer any indoor alternative.

The good news is that The Dale was able to readjust to the new reality quickly, being already both nimble and nomadic. In retrospect those early days were easier than what we are faced with now: having to figure out how to re-open. Our partner buildings are understandably still discerning how to open up for themselves, let alone for an external group like us. The Public Health guidelines for high-risk settings like ours are more stringent than the general public. None of this makes our own launching into regular-ish life straight-forward. It all feels a little too…unimaginable. But that is not who The Dale is. We are always looking for a way and are certainly willing to try and try again until we find the sweet, albeit messy, spot.

For now, we continue to provide meals-to-go. We spend a lot of time outdoors, even when the weather is terrible. Our Sunday gathering is the only thing happening indoors again, and for that we are exceedingly grateful. We go where we are needed, whether that be to someone’s home for a visit, or to drop off groceries, or to say hello on a street-corner. Though we wish they were not necessary, we are able to hold funerals again, meeting a need that Covid truly stole from us. Throughout it all, we are finding ways as a community to honour that every one of us has something to both give and receive. I am being cared for, just as I get to offer care. Every person holds a unique role, because each one brings their own gifts.

The last two years have been admittedly brutal. I remain so grateful for and proud of our community, one that teaches me about resilience, creativity, and hope, even in the most desperate of times. While we haven’t been able to do things the way we prefer, we have tried very hard to “Dale-i-fy” (that’s one of my new favourite words) everything. Can’t sit around a table? At least we can drink hot chocolate together in a park. Have to line-up for a meal? The staff can be in the line with our folks. Can’t gather on Sundays indoors? We will pitch a tent in a parking lot. Have to sleep outside? We can provide new blankets and sleeping bags. Must be isolated? We will show up at the door to say hi and bring needed supplies. I am confident that as we navigate this next transition, we can make sure to Dale-i-fy it too. Your support as we try is deeply appreciated.