The work I care about is shared work, and it belongs to a community rather than to any one person. Still, I was deeply honoured to be acknowledged by my alma mater this week, and I’m receiving it with a lot of gratitude for the people who walk alongside me. Here is what I got to say about it:

When I was a student at Tyndale, now decades ago, I went on a walk that changed my life. One night, together with a small group, I went downtown to distribute food to people who were homeless. I was armed with those bagged meals, only to be completely disarmed by how welcomed and at home I was made to feel by those I met.

There is a tapestry of stories of how I have been impacted by those who are well acquainted with poverty, and how they have taught me to face my own poverty, a kind that might show up in different ways, but is present in me nonetheless.

Mike was horrifically abused as a child and learned to cope with the trauma by using drugs. His coming to Jesus did not include immediate healing. And oh, how he longed for it. He would come to worship gatherings and publicly confess things that many of us would never dare say out loud. He would throw back his head and cry out for mercy and justice and, yes, healing. To me, he was a modern-day Psalmist.

Shannon lived life hard. Similar to Mike, she loved Jesus and wanted the best, not just for herself, but for others. At a Tuesday drop-in at The Dale, another community member arrived with her child, a child who had spent the first year of her life in the care of Children’s Aid. To see mother and child now reunited and able to be a unit had us all mesmerized. The song that happened to come on the radio in that moment was The Rolling Stones’ “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.” Shannon quietly said, “You can’t always get what you want, but SOMETIMES you do.”

I have witnessed a person getting the last meal at one of our drop-ins, likely the only proper meal of their day, only to share it with two other people so that they could all eat.

When my husband, Dion, who I met here as a student, decided to have an expensive surgery that was meant to be a potential cure for his Multiple Sclerosis, we needed help. Without my knowledge, my community in Parkdale quietly took up an offering to support us. People gave out of the little they had, including from whatever they had panhandled. One Sunday, I was pulled into the centre of the room and gifted a Ziploc bag full of change. It was just under $80. We were told to go out for dinner with it, and to make sure we told them what we ate.

These are just four stories in a volume of likely millions.

My mentor and dear friend, the late Rick Tobias, said, “Embrace and inclusion, for me, represent the highest manifestation of our aspiration to be a just society. We can do many things to pursue that aspiration, but for me the acid test of justice actualized is embrace. Do we belong to each other? Are we a people together?”

I can honestly say that as much as I extend the invitation to belong, I receive it from so many others.

I am grateful for the embrace of my husband, Dion, our daughter, Cate, my family, my friends and peers, The Dale Board, The Dale team who are like sisters, and the whole of The Dale community.

Thank you for this honour today. None of it would be possible without being a people together.