erinnoxford

Posted on July 4, 2014July 4, 2014 by erinnoxford · 1 Comment

Charity Remixed

I’m not always sure how to describe a Monday Drop-In, other to say it is most often a wonderful riot of activity. There is a large crew of people who show up first thing to get the room set up and the food underway. People chop vegetables. The same woman always cooks the meat. Coffee is put on. Souad, our Kitchen Coordinator, describes what the meal is for the day and reminds all of her “munchkins” and “angels” that she loves them. A small group of people gather in the corner opposite to the kitchen to make music: sometimes rather ambient, sometimes a mix of Beatles and Dylan, sometimes an Italian aria. On this day people danced to “This Little Light of Mine”.

Throughout a Monday people drop by to say hello or ask for a token. Some come (including me) to share their challenges and maybe ask for help. Others sit quietly in the same spot every week, drinking tea or coffee. Many people enjoy chatting. While there is more often than not a general sense of calm of Mondays, there are most certainly moments that are anything but, such as heated exchanges that need to be de-escalated. The thing that I love about the drop-in is that it belongs to the community. The lunch happens because of them. Even conflict resolution is shared.

At around 1:00 pm this past Monday 45 young people from around Ontario and Michigan showed up to experience the drop-in. I met them outside and suggested that people enter incrementally in smaller groups, look for a spot to sit and enjoy lunch. As I surveyed the full room I was struck by the beauty of the hospitality of The Dale community. One visiting group member turned to me and said, “you don’t need to serve me, let me do it.” To which I and others responded, “no, enjoy letting us serve you.” At one point I noticed large groups of youth scattered around the room, surrounding individuals telling their stories. Though our visitors could have easily and capably taken on the work of the lunch (getting it ready, serving and cleaning-up) they instead were hosted by us.

At The Dale we are playing with and trying to turn on its head the idea of “charity”. Many of us are accustomed to being on the receiving end of charity: others have what we need and give it to us. The problem is that too often this robs people of the opportunity to give. In other words, too often charity is a one way street. We believe that every person, regardless of their circumstances has something to offer. As humans we need to both give and receive. Monday was an opportunity to model this with 100+ people. For me, it was like charity remixed.

Posted on June 18, 2014 by erinnoxford · 2 Comments

What’s the Diff?

What difference does it make?

I hear this asked a lot. It’s a good question. What difference does The Dale make?

Most times this question is followed by: Are people getting off the street? Are people finding sobriety? Are people moving from substandard housing into something better? Are people no longer “poor”?

The answer is yes, no and sometimes. Nothing like a straight-forward answer!

The reality is that the people of The Dale are all on a journey, me included. Some of the changes that we experience in one another can be almost imperceptible: one less drink in a day, choosing to remain calm when slighted by another, paying a person back the money that was borrowed instead of running. Some of the changes are more obvious: coming to church regularly, finding the resources to make a crappy apartment feel more like a home, going to detox, mending an estranged relationship.

I know people who have gotten off the street, who are now sober, who have decent housing and who are leaving poverty behind. I celebrate them and the healing they have received. I also celebrate the things described above: the arguably less dramatic changes, though no less real. Notice too that all of the changes listed are ones that are not simply for those who fall under the poverty line. We all need to manage addictions, pay back debt, create home and mend broken relationships.

The Dale is a little, wandering space where people can discover what it means to co-journey toward a deeper wholeness in Christ. Jesus does not promise an easy road, nor one that ends with middle/upper class life. The journey is not a straight-line: it is marked with fumbles and missteps and requires patience and grace. Sometimes we need to call each other on bad choices while offering accountability and creating healthy boundaries.

Some of my friends have acknowledged that prior to being a part of The Dale they had NO one to talk to, that prayer was not an option and that life felt incredibly dark.

To me, this sounds like a difference is being made.

Posted on June 5, 2014 by erinnoxford · 1 Comment

What I Relearned from The Dentist’s Chair

I had all four of my wisdom teeth out recently. As well as it went, it was still no fun. I had avoided getting the teeth extracted for a long time, in part because they weren’t giving me any trouble, but also because I couldn’t imagine carving out the time in my schedule for the required recovery. I finally couldn’t ignore the dentist any longer, having discovered how it felt to get a bad infection. So, a few Tuesdays ago I headed to a clinic where I was put under for the operation. I have no recollection of the procedure, only that a mere hour later I was wisdom teeth-free.

I’m on the go a lot. I spend the early part of most mornings making Cate a lunch and seeing her off to school. Work is varied: I go to drop-ins, attend meetings, do administration, write, prepare for Sundays, fundraise, participate in street outreach and offer pastoral care. I’m home for Cate after school. I teach a few young people how to play the piano. I take care of our home. I cook. I have lovely visits with my Mom. The list goes on. You know what happened after I got home from that Tuesday appointment? I crashed on the couch where I proceeded to do NOTHING except allow Dion to take care of me. That first day I could barely keep my eyes open.

On the Wednesday I mistakenly thought, “Great! I’m sore, but this wasn’t so bad!” Those are always famous last words. Sore turned into pain: nothing out of the ordinary, though no less real. My left side decided to swell, while my right did not, making me look like a lopsided chipmunk. I was sure I’d be back to work by Sunday, only to be proven wrong. I went to a portion of the Monday Drop-In and learned quickly from the good-natured snickers of my friends that I looked rather out-of-it and wasn’t quite myself. I was told to go home.

I find that when I am forced to slow down I am reminded that my value cannot reside in my doing. I am loved by God simply because I am His child. I am loved in my home not because I do the laundry or make lunches (though those things are appreciated). I am loved at The Dale not because I have a schedule full of admin and meetings (though those things are necessary). I felt anxious about not making it to work, only to discover that the community wanted only for me to take the time to get better.

I love being busy and generally enjoy the challenge of keeping things in balance. I am grateful for the work that is mine to do. I am also grateful that something as strange as having my wisdom teeth out could serve to make me slow down and help me to just be. How amazing that we are each valuable, regardless of our To-Do lists. My mouth is much better now and so I am back at it. Even more reason to rest in this truth.

Posted on May 29, 2014 by erinnoxford

The Fundraising Blahs

Fundraising is hard. Period.

I guess I feel like I want to admit this, not in order to induce guilt but to acknowledge my struggle. There are days when I think, “I’m done. I do not want to ask anybody else for money, ever.” Other days I buckle down and prayerfully pursue that which I must: the money to ensure that The Dale continues. I’m grateful that we run a very lean ministry, one that manages to do a lot every week on a small budget. It’s hard though to mix into such a full week the need to find the money for that budget.

My imagination sometimes wanders to a place where money is no longer necessary, where I get to just do what I love doing. I snap back to reality rather rapidly when I receive the insurance invoice or it is payroll time or more groceries are needed. I’m sure everyone, whether you have financial means or not, can relate on some level. Money plays a large role in this life. It’s hard to escape that.

Occasionally I weep over this challenge. I wonder where the next bit will come from because in the moment I can’t envision that it will come at all. I’m not being melodramatic: I was there when we had to consider closing because the account had run dry. It was terrifying, because while we had almost nothing left we had a thriving community of people who needed to remain together. An amazing thing happened in that desperate place- we decided in continuing regardless, whittling away expenses, building partnerships, sharing our story and trusting that we would find enough.

I have to reside in this story when I am overwhelmed with fundraising. I have to remember that we were provided for by so many different people. I often say that God multiplied the loaves and fishes in Parkdale and I mean it. Since that time our circle of support has expanded and strengthened, evidence that it was the right decision to remain open.

Some of the best things in my life have been hard-won. I am certain that however difficult it may be, fundraising for The Dale is entirely worth it. I just have to keep going. One step at a time.

Posted on May 28, 2014May 28, 2014 by erinnoxford · 1 Comment

Community Gardening

Spring is finally here and I’ve got gardening on the brain. I love getting my hands dirty. I love the way soil, fresh air and plants smell. I really love that there is a community garden in Parkdale that The Dale gets to be a part of. The garden is nestled beside a Community Centre and feels like a little oasis: when I am inside the gate I suddenly feel very far from the hustle and bustle of Queen Street.

Over the years we’ve endeavoured to grow an assortment of things to various degrees of success: tomatoes, carrots, swiss chard, lettuce, etc. We always plant a serious amount of herbs. During one of our more prolific harvests we were able to regularly send people home with packages of fresh food. I dream about being able to do that again.

I believe there is a lot that is important about community gardening. First, it reconnects people to the land: as city dwellers it can be easy to forget where our food actually comes from and gardening allows us to be in closer touch with it. Second, too often people forget the taste of fresh food because the cost can seem prohibitive or they simply have no place to store or cook it. Sharing smaller amounts of food from our own plot helps to combat this. Finally, gardening can help break down the kind of alienation that occurs when people are isolated. Gardening gets people outside where they must work cooperatively toward a common goal. There’s truly something satisfying about seeing a garden come to life.

I think we should each experience the wonderment of seeing a tiny seed buried in the ground, sprout, grow and produce fruit. Have you ever seen a child pull a carrot out of the ground for the first time? I remember the astonishment on my daughter Cate’s face when she yanked out a beautiful, long, bright orange root. I look forward to being similarly amazed this season.

Last week I received a very lovely gift on the occasion of my birthday: a book full of encouragement from a beautiful collection of people in my life. One entry, from a Parkdale friend, said: “When Erinn isn’t smiling, she’s crying…”. This made me laugh out loud (through the tears). She’s right, I have very active tear ducts.

I went through a period when I wanted to temper my tears. I sometimes felt exhausted by the shear force of them. I attempted to will myself to not cry, to hold in that which so freely flowed. It sort of worked. I think I learned more about where my emotion was coming from. In some cases it exposed unhealthy behaviour and patterns in my life. It also made me realize that there is something very precious about crying and that I need not dry myself out.

One of the Bronte sisters once wrote, “But smiles and tears are so alike with me, they are neither of them confined to any particular feelings”. This resonates with me. Tears are a way for me to express my grief, regret, anger, embarrassment, joy and pride. I can laugh so hard that tears stream down my face, and then when no one else finds what I find funny, I tearfully laugh even more (this happens a lot). Occasionally I cry for what seems like no apparent reason until I realize that a smell or some other sense has triggered an old memory. I routinely weep over injustice.

Though sometimes I feel like a crazy mess, I know that crying has a cleansing quality to it. I quite often feel like I need to let myself weep so that I can take a deep breath and keep going. I’m grateful too for friends who know me and accept me as I am, including my friend who says it like it is: when I’m not smiling, I’m crying. Ha.

Parkdale is changing. It is a neighbourhood that has seen ups and downs over the years. At first it was an affluent “suburb” of Toronto, one close to the lake with sprawling homes. Then the Gardiner Expressway was built, effectively cutting off people’s access to the water. Couple this with the de-institutionalization of mental health care which led to people being let out of Queen Street Mental Health Institute, and Parkdale became a neighbourhood in decline. I’m sure these were not the only factors in what became the changing face of the west-end, though I do believe they had a significant impact. The people with means began to move elsewhere while those struggling to get by moved into the once single family dwellings turned rooming houses. To this day there are people who believe that to be from Parkdale means you must be poor.

When I walk along Queen Street West now I am struck by how rapidly it is shifting. For instance, a once derelict building has been transformed into a sushi bar. It always causes me pause, not because I don’t like sushi but rather because of how *different* it feels. The rooming houses are being transformed back into their original state. All of this represents to me that Parkdale is facing gentrification.

I asked one of my community friends how she felt about the change. “I don’t like it” was the response. This person is worried about how she, along with countless others, face being displaced from a neighbourhood that is home. She doesn’t resent the new businesses and restaurants necessarily. She does fear that there will be no more room for the dollar store and more easily accessible (read: affordable) coffee shops and little grocery markets. I was intrigued though by her number one concern: “there are hardly any benches for us to sit on anymore”.

This got me thinking about the surge of videos and articles in the media about our attachment to the virtual world: our phones, social media and access to immediate information. So many of us are constantly on the go, with our heads down. My friend, along with the majority of The Dale community don’t have the option to be glued to a screen. Instead, they congregate outside in public spaces, most often where there is a stoop or a lonely bench. This often raises concern from those who would rather not have people loitering outside. I understand where that comes from and certainly get that a person’s behaviour can go sideways if that loitering includes something like drinking. Conversely, I think there is something to be learned from the kind of community that is formed when people linger on a bench together.

The challenge for Parkdalians, both old and new is to navigate the morphing landscape together. My hope is that we can learn how to co-exist and actually model this to neighbourhoods around Toronto that might face similar change. I suspect it might start with sitting outside together. I agree with my friend, we need some more benches.

I recently spoke at a regional gathering of a network of people known as StreetLevel. Some people asked if I would share the same words here…

On a sunny day in June, nearly two years ago, I had to pull down the Parkdale Neighbourhood Church (PNC) sign from both the gate and door at 201 Cowan Avenue. For me, this act made things official: PNC no longer had its own building. That was the day we became a church without our own walls. I like to say it was when we “spilled into the streets”.

Fast forward to the present. Parkdale Neighbourhood Church is now known as The Dale Ministries. You might wonder why we would seemingly shift away from “church” by changing our name. As an organization we don’t function as a traditional church institution, for instance, we are not made self-sufficient based on tithing. Our people give, they just give out of very little. We came exceedingly close to ceasing to exist because of this. Playing with the language that had become a barrier to our long-term stability was worth it. At the beginning of our search for a new name, I asked our community members to describe what PNC meant to them. Though there were many descriptors used, the number one word was “safe”. A dale is a valley that cuts through a mountain, the place where one hides when facing a storm. Every day The Dale Ministries, or more often simply The Dale, endeavours to be a safe community for many, including me.

We are a varied group: some of us live rough outside, some in community housing and some in houses of our own. Some of us are struggling with addiction to street drugs or alcohol or television or eating too much food. Some of us have diagnosed mental health challenges that range from depression to schizophrenia. Some of us are refugees. Some of us are seniors. You get the picture. All of us are broken. We choose again and again to journey alongside one another toward deeper wholeness in Christ. We choose to be church. For The Dale this journey continues without a building of our own.

To be honest, I was relieved when the move out of our former space was finally done. The amount of “stuff” that had accumulated was, at least for me, astonishing. As we purged almost all of our belongings and packed just a few, I became thankful for the freedom from things. I also became admittedly overwhelmed, occasionally stressed and rather emotional. During that time I remember reading this: “You gain confidence through knowing that I am with you- that you face nothing alone. Anxiety stems from asking the wrong question: ‘If such and such happens, can I handle it?’ The true question is not whether you can cope with whatever happens, but whether you and I can handle anything that occurs.”

Becoming under-housed was an opportunity for me to discover if I was asking the right question. This was truly scary, for as right as I believe it was to move, it meant entering a time of unknown, of in between, of newness. In response to the question, “what is something that makes you sad?” one of our youngest community members drew a picture of many stick people carrying a large box. She said she felt sad that the people were carrying away her church. It was indeed what was happening in the eyes of that little person.

It was important to honour that sadness. I didn’t want to belittle the magnitude of the change. I joined with others in weeping. I also had to persist in announcing that as a community we could exist outside of a building. Today I am here to say we are still a community and that yes, though “church” is no longer in our name, we very much function as one. We continue to gather; to support; to create; to eat together; to question; to pray; to worship; to dance; to love.

By spilling into the streets we more fully inhabit our neighbourhood. By knocking on the doors of our neighbours we have found space (though it sometimes revolves) to run our programs: in churches, in stores, in community AND health centres- space that we don’t have keys for, but that costs us nothing. We have the opportunity to be shown hospitality at the same time as giving it. How beautiful is that?

Henri Nouwen once said, “Loving the Church often seems close to impossible. Still, we must keep reminding ourselves that all people in the Church – whether powerful or powerless, conservative or progressive, tolerant or fanatic – belong to that long line of witnesses moving through this valley of tears, singing songs of praise and thanksgiving, listening to the voice of their Lord, and eating together from the bread that keeps multiplying as it is shared. When we remember that, we may be able to say, ‘I love the Church, and I am glad to belong to it’…Without a true love for the Church, we cannot live in it in joy and peace. And without a true love for the Church, we cannot call people to it.”

In the context of this little struggling church community I am/we are reminded of God’s presence. God has seen fit to multiply the loaves and the fishes in Parkdale and I mean this literally. On days when there was no money to purchase food for our drop-in we somehow had full plates. I am no longer the only staff- we are the Dale girls: Erinn and Joanna, surrounded by a community that has heard the invitation into full participation. Two years into this wild experiment we still exist! We are HERE. And we’re thriving.

My love for the church, my love for The Dale, is a true love.

Posted on April 29, 2014April 29, 2014 by erinnoxford · 1 Comment

Cate and Leaps of Faith

Last week my daughter Cate managed to do two things that, for different reasons, were real challenges: fasting from food for thirty hours and singing a solo in front of a large group of people. It took courage for Cate to do these things and I’m very proud of her for conquering the fear associated with both. I don’t know that she will be racing to do either again anytime soon. I also imagine that being in a vocal recital will still cause Cate stage fright. The difference next time though is that she can draw from her previous experience and remember that she can open her mouth and sing.

I recognize the anxiety that Cate was feeling. There are things that I know I need to do that quite frankly, scare me. Sometimes when I think about those things that enliven fear in me I can feel my stomach drop out from under me. Lately this has been happening when I think about the long-term life of The Dale. To be clear, I don’t feel anxious about the community or its ability to continue to gather. What I wonder about is my capacity to fulfill the role I have in it: pastor, director, administrator, fundraiser. I feel ill-equipped.

When I confessed this feeling to my husband recently he simply said, “then you are exactly where you should be”. I know he’s right. Being in this place forces me to lean on others, ask for help and rely on God. Here I have to choose to take leaps of faith, which isn’t so different from what I was encouraging Cate to do right until the moment she had the last bite of food before her fast or when her name came up in the recital program. Some of the best things have happened because I decided to jump despite the fear and trepidation.

In truth, I also have scars because not all the jumps have resulted in the desired outcome. With time these scars do take on a different form. A song I love says, “they are less like scars and more like character”. I want to battle fear with a certain abandon and trust that my wounds will turn into scars of character. This life of mine requires stepping out in faith, over and over again. It also affords me the opportunity to be a part of a radically beautiful place like The Dale.

The next time I am overwhelmed with my role I want to recall the way Cate stepped up to the stage, composed herself and sweetly sang “The Swallow”. She was anxious the entire song AND she did it. I hope I can do the same.

I am going through an “accreditation” process right now for work. For the first time in a long time I am reading books with a highlighter in one hand, writing papers and even developing a Personal Growth Plan.

The whole growth plan thing is quite an exercise. I have to assess things like my personal capacity and stage of life, receive feedback from influential people around me and come up with action steps and goals. It is a good exercise in humility to hear from others the ways in which they think you need to develop. On my own I have come up with quite a list. The challenge is to set a clear focus and reasonable goals, recognizing too that there is no easy formula for all this. I do always find there to be this interesting tension between being present to the moment and preparing for the future. I’m still looking for the balance.

One of the things I want to work on is curbing the tendency to procrastinate. In many ways I am a decent time manager, especially given the number of roles I have. Sometimes though…oh dear…procrastination rears its head and I put off that thing that I really shouldn’t. Every single time this happens I swear I won’t let it happen again. Ha.

I need to come up with some focus words and I’m convinced that there must be a good one that means the opposite of ‘procrastinate’ or ‘procrastinator’. I’ve asked some of my wordsmith friends, looked around the internet and pulled out my beloved dictionary (yes, I love a good dictionary), but have yet to land on a word that captures it. According to the Urban Dictionary a definition of procrastinator is: One who will do anything, including spending an entire day looking up random words on urban dictionary, to get out of doing work. This habit often has a terrible effect on that person’s relationships, work, or grades. Ouch.

Since it would be rather sad if I put off finding a word that means ‘to not procrastinate’, I’m looking for help. Does anything come to mind? My personal growth plan and I will thank you.

ERINN OXFORD

Author: erinnoxford