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High Five to The Board

I got home one night after a Dale Board meeting to be greeted by some friends hanging out in my living room. Not knowing my Board, but aware of what I had been up to, one of them asked (dripping with sarcasm), “so, how was that? Must have been fun. The Board meetings I go to are such a blast.” My answer was clearly not the one expected: “it was great. I am so grateful for that group of people. I always leave feeling encouraged.”

The Dale Ministries Board of Directors is six people. They provide financial oversight, ensure proper governance, monitor programs and offer accountability and support to me and by extension, Joanna. Over the last number of years they have balanced the need to be both cautious and brave as we move forward as a lean organization without our own walls. With their prayerful guidance we continue to grow and discover what it means to be confident in God’s provision and stability.

Simply put, I do not know what I would do without this group. I feel cared for by them as a Director, but also as a friend. They carefully listen to my reports about programming, concerns about the community, fear about my abilities and stories from my life outside of work. I know they have my back and I hope they know I have theirs. Thank you to those Board members who came before my time and paved the way, to those who recently finished their tenure, and to those who are serving now. I feel fortunate to be on your team.

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Parenting an Almost Teenager

My daughter Cate is growing up.

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I know this is what happens. Lately though I find myself standing back and watching her with a mixture of amazement and wistfulness at how quickly she seems to be morphing into a young lady. Occasionally I think about how my own mother watched me change when I was Cate’s age. Though so many years ago it doesn’t always feel that way: I can remember how it was to be almost a teenager (and admittedly sometimes still feel like one). So, how is it that my Catie-Cate is now in the same place?

I am proud of the person Cate is. I see in her an incredible capacity for compassion and understanding. She is very honest. I love that she tries her best even when something doesn’t come naturally to her. Cate feels things deeply and while sometimes struggles to articulate what is going on internally, always tries to find the words. When done with a book or a toy, Cate considers who she might give it to. I believe I would say this even if I weren’t her mother: Cate is a joy. I really love AND like her.

Dion and I have never shielded Cate from hard things. She has seen poverty, illness and even death. Until recently most of this kind of experience has occurred because of Cate’s proximity to us, now though she is discovering difficult things for herself and in the lives of her peers. Seeing this happen is turning out to be one of the most painful parts of parenting so far. Cate is like a piece of my heart walking around on two legs. I desperately want to protect and shield her from the sadness that life brings and yet know I can’t. True too is that I want to teach her the beautiful complexity of the truth that blessed are those who mourn and are poor in spirit.

Last night Cate came home from her choir rehearsal happy and thrilled that she had done well on her sight-reading test. She set her alarm this morning so that she could work on some homework first thing (we’re working at learning to not procrastinate). Today’s plan is to give a teacher the encouragement card that she and a friend made upon hearing that one might be needed. She’s devouring books these days, having fun with friends and already planning what kind of cake we’ll have for her thirteenth birthday.

Cate is both a happy kid and an old-soul. She manages an awareness of the challenges of life while still wanting to climb trees and for this I am grateful. Cate makes me a happy mama.

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The Perspective of Another: A Reflection from Danielle Stinson

Occasionally we enjoy the opportunity of hosting a student at The Dale. This year we were joined by Danielle Stinson, a woman working on her Bachelor of Social Work through the University of Victoria. Danielle was required to do a placement and chose us for it, a choice we were happy she made. It is hard to believe that Danielle’s placement has already come to an end. Danielle, thank you for your presence at The Dale, for sharing your inquisitive mind, your deep compassion and obvious heart for people. We will miss you.

Critical reflection is an important part of learning, and so we decided that Danielle would write a blog about her experience that I would share here. This is a generous piece.

This has been a difficult post to sit down and write. I think I was avoiding having to actually recognize that I have to leave soon and won’t be around as often or for a while at least. But here it is! 

From my first week back in January when I started at The Dale, I felt welcomed to share in my brokenness and my true self. I have a hard time fitting in with traditional church settings without causing a stir, but The Dale has been a place of refuge and comfort that has welcomed my opinion. There is a ‘genuineness’ to this place that is so attractive, beautiful, and honest. I’ve been caught off guard by the generosity and thoughtfulness of so many people in one place!

Thank you for the birthday cake and for those in the community who shared art and music on Wednesday mornings and during the rest of the week, it brings life to this place. Being a part of Tuesday night prayer was special to me and I learnt so much from those who share stories and that question and investigating scripture together. Chopping vegetables on Mondays has been deeply therapeutic and helped prepare me for the week. I’m also grateful to Erinn and Joanna for their commitment to being present and praying together for the community and for each other, it has been an honour to join you.

One of the (many) things I have learnt from this community has been the importance and freedom of interdependence. We contribute in different ways and we need each other equally. There is a kindness and a peace to this community that is marked by love for one another and a commitment to live as Christ did.

Moving is both exciting and frustrating. I’m looking forward to meeting new people but I really can’t see how it can be better than this, experiencing life together and being in community.

Praying and thinking of you lovely bunch,

Danielle

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Reawakened to the Resurrection

“I think I need to draw a picture about why Easter makes me sad”. Though she said it quietly, I heard it clearly. I probed a little and realized that her story is grievously not unique. Easter, like Christmas, reminds those who are displaced or estranged from the ones they love, how alone they really are.

I sometimes find the Easter season particularly challenging to navigate at The Dale because of this. Lent, the period of preparation for Easter tends to be solemn and is often when people “give things up”- not uncommonly things like coffee and chocolate. But how do you suggest giving something like that up when surrounded by people just looking for their next meal? Please hear me: I am not suggesting letting something go isn’t a good idea (in the past I too have given up chocolate). When done as intended: to direct our attention back to God, it is an incredible and good tool. I’m just acknowledging that this is one of the ways it gets complicated.

God of course moves despite what bogs me down. I shouldn’t be surprised.

We gathered with two other communities on Maundy Thursday (the day before Good Friday) to commemorate the last supper of Christ and wash one another’s feet or hands. We started the evening with a potluck that a large number of Dale folks contributed to, whether it was a huge vat of pasta or a box of Digestive Cookies from the dollar store. The evening felt set apart and holy.

On Easter Sunday we spoke of the resurrection of Jesus and what difference it makes in our lives. So many people shared of their gratitude to simply be alive. We talked about looking up at the sky and being struck by how BIG it is. People challenged one another to see the gifts that God has put in their lives, even when by the world’s standards those gifts seem meagre. I shared my sorrow over certain situations in my life and how while I’d love for them to be different, I also recognize God being present in them. We spoke and sang about the hope that we now have because of Easter.

We are slowly and carefully being transformed. One of us used to refuse even shaking another’s hand during our weekly ‘passing of the peace’, today hugs are given. One of us used to spend every day alone in a small rooming house apartment, today every moment possible is spent with a community. One of us continues to struggle with paranoia but considers it safe with The Dale. One of us drew a picture of Easter with such sadness, but is replacing it with a picture of hope. We are being reawakened to the resurrection.

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Celebrating The Dale’s Own ‘Force of Nature’

It was almost six years ago that I was introduced to the one who I now affectionately describe as a “force of nature”- Souad Sharabani. At the time we needed someone to help direct the kitchen at our Monday Drop-In and Souad was willing. Since then she has transformed the way we cook, convinced our community to “eat their vegetables” and become a very good friend.

Souad was born in the Middle East, has lived and travelled all over the world and now speaks five languages. When Souad is not at The Dale she is an independent radio-documentary producer who explores politics and social/cultural trends, a blogger and more recently a published cook book author (check out Scents of Memory). Souad adores her family and shares pictures and stories of them whenever she can. Her cooking is largely influenced by her travels, rich in flavour and extremely healthy. In fact, her food is so full of herbs and spices that we have dramatically cut down on everyone’s salt intake in the drop-in because the food just doesn’t need it.

When things got bleak at PNC (now The Dale) Souad remained present. I remember dreaming together about how to make things work beyond our impending homelessness. We found an alternate location for the Monday meal and Souad adjusted to cooking in a much smaller space, one where we learned to use glorified hot plates to prepare food for more people than we ever had to in our former industrial kitchen. The group of community volunteers has become a real team under Souad’s leadership. She quietly and consistently works to show them her appreciation, constantly recognizing that it is collectively their kitchen.

Souad has always been straight up with me, something I appreciate. I know when she is mad, concerned or pleased. She has endlessly listened to me. We have enjoyed homemade bread and tea at her kitchen table, walks with her beloved dogs and many a coffee with LOTS of milk.

When Souad isn’t in the kitchen, we all miss hearing her call us either ‘Angels’ or ‘Munchkins’, her colourful language and the way she dances to Motown blaring on the stereo. When Souad is in a room you can’t help but notice her dynamic presence. Six years in, we are incredibly grateful for that presence. Souad, thank you for everything: your fierce loyalty to The Dale, your friendship, your food and all the love that you show through it. Here’s to many more years.

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Working to Rest: Resisting An Attempt to Control

I am working hard to have a day that resembles rest this week. Doesn’t that sound wrong?

For the last few years I have intentionally taken a Sabbath at the end of the week instead of on Sunday, a day that is too much a whirl of activity to be considered restful. On my day off I find myself anxiously thinking about all the things I need to do, especially at The Dale. I worry about fundraising. I think of all the e-mails I should be writing. I craft a newsletter in my head because surely that will alleviate my concern about the budget. I plot meetings and what times they might work.

Oh, the irony and agony.

The crazy thing is that I know I need to rest and nothing is going to immediately change or get fixed if I do it right now. No newsletter is going to be written, laid out, printed and sent out in a single day; we are in a new year and the way our eventual year-end looks will not be decided in an afternoon; the meetings don’t need to be set until next week. Worrying, as I repeatedly tell myself, will not help.

I finally settle into our big arm-chair with a cup of coffee in my hand, close my eyes and pray. I remember a quote from author Marva Dawn, “A great benefit of Sabbath keeping is that we learn to let God take care of us, not by becoming passive and lazy, but in the freedom of giving up our feeble attempts to be God in our own lives.”

My own feeble attempt to be in control rapidly unravels. Fortunately as it does, I finally find rest.

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From Hopeless to Beloved

Last Wednesday Joanna and I were washing the dirty dishes from The Dale’s breakfast/art drop-in. Someone new to both of us wandered up to the door, peered in and began to talk. I wish I could have captured what he said on a recorder of some kind, it was that beautiful. This is a pale re-telling but here goes…

This is a beautiful place. I want to be a part of the beauty.

I have been homeless, I have been hopeless and now I want to be beloved.

I want to help. I want to do dishes.

I want to live life differently.

I feel ready.

I want to say that God is here. I can feel Him. I can see Him.

I just wanted you to both know this. Thank you. God bless.

Then he was gone.

I turned to Joanna. We both dissolved into tears. Somehow the tears turned into laughter and we just felt overwhelmingly grateful for the unexpected gift. It had been a tough start to the week and so we sat in the moment and then…tenderly finished the dishes.

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“Kiss the World Beautiful”

Last night Dion and I joined friends at a concert. We were introduced to the music of Martyn Joseph many years ago and felt pleased to hear him live. The last song of the evening was “Kiss the World Beautiful”.

I have been thinking of the lyrics as I recall a conversation I had with a longtime friend yesterday at the drop-in who talked about how his desire to stop drinking can’t compete with his need to numb the pain. While I know I can’t, all I want to do is make it better.

I sang the song in my head this morning as I somehow managed to be present while someone died. I’m grateful to have been there, mindful of those who couldn’t be and quite honestly feeling as though I didn’t deserve the opportunity and experience. Gregory “Iggy” Spoon was absolutely surrounded by family and friends as he peacefully breathed his last breath.

Psalm 85 promises that one day “love and faithfulness [will] meet together; righteousness and peace [will] kiss each other”. I wait in hopeful expectation for things to be made right. I also acknowledge the beauty that was born yesterday and today: my friend chose detox and Iggy left this world loved and is now whole. Almost inaudibly i sing:

I want to kiss the world beautiful
I want to kiss the world fine
Shoulder to shoulder, cheek to cheek
That don’t sound much like a crime
I want to kiss the world beautiful
I have no name for this desire
I believe in light, but don’t know what to write
With the darkness drawing near
I want to kiss the world beautiful
Lay down this life I think I would
Give up my shoes and all of my views
Don’t know why just think I should
I want to kiss the world beautiful
Under the weight of all this earth
Sometimes it takes someone else’s life
To make us see what we are worth
I want to kiss the world beautiful
Dream but never fall asleep
Go up to God and say, do you have plans today?
Are you walking down my street?
I want to kiss the world beautiful
And not forget from where we came
There are losers and winners, saints and sinners
I hope we all end up the same
I want to kiss the world beautiful
I want to kiss your lips tonight
Sometimes it’s just more important to love

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Lessons Learned

It has been almost three years since I was invited into my current role at The Dale. The time has simultaneously crept and whizzed by. So MUCH has happened and as I sit here I am reminded of the many valuable lessons I have learned (and continue to learn) along the way…

1. You do not need a building to be a church.

2. The use of other people’s buildings that might be otherwise empty is a good use of resources.

3. The Dale needs and thrives because of partnerships.

4. It takes time to convince others that a crazy idea like “spilling into the streets” is a good one.

5. You can do a lot with very little [money].

6. Being present in a neighbourhood matters.

7. Sharing stories is important.

8. People are built for and need community.

9. People who live on the margins are some of my greatest teachers.

10. God provides.

There’s more of course, but a list of ten seems a good place to start.

My desire for The Dale is that it will always place at its core people who know poverty, for it is through them that Jesus invites us to recognize our own. I just finished telling some people this afternoon that The Dale pours more into me than I will probably ever pour into it. It’s absolutely true.

The last three years have been a roller coaster ride, one that has exposed both my fragility and strengths, my brokenness and restored health, my deepest fears and highest hopes. I have seen money arrive when we had none and food feed more people than it conceivably should have. I, along with a whole team of people decided to keep going when by the world’s standards we should have stopped. The Dale tells the story of a community’s resilience through God’s presence and provision. It is a story that I am humbly grateful to be a part of.

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A Weary Prayer

I’m sitting in a Tim Horton’s in the far east end of the city because I was on to drive Cate and three friends to a choir rehearsal and need to hang out until it’s over. Having conceded that my coffee quotient is in fact up for the day (I won’t tell you how large it actually is) I am drinking peppermint tea, listening to music on my computer and trying to drown out what seems to be a never-ending day.

I feel like a walking mixed bag of emotions. Dion is snow birding for February, a decision that we both came to and I continue to support. Admittedly it is not easy to have him away though. I got a terrible cold this past week that seems to be hanging on by one last thread. The drop-in today was not the smoothest one in history. It’s February which means it is almost March, which means it is getting closer to the anniversary of my Dad’s death.

I suppose I am writing because I find it therapeutic. It’s kind of like how I write lists when things are busy: it helps put things in perspective. While I feel weary, I am also aware of the flip side of all those things I just listed. Dion is skipping a Canadian February winter that always makes him feel terrible, plus Cate and I will join him later in the month for a bit. That last thread of a cold is going to let go, I can feel it. The drop-in is rarely as challenging as it was today and some of the situations that could have spiralled even more, didn’t. And while it completely stinks that my Dad is gone, I know that my grief is different now than it was on March 3rd, 2008.

Joanna texted me a little portion of a prayer today that spoke to my heart: “Lord, when we are weary of the journey, strengthen us by Your Spirit to imagine new heavens and a new earth”. As I sit waiting to pick up Cate, thoughts swirling about everything that is going on, that is my prayer.