I got inspired to respond to an article in Toronto Life. I’ve never done this before. Here goes…

Re: Sarah Fulford’s Editor’s Letter in the August 2013 issue of Toronto Life, “The Party Pooping Parkdale Moratorium”. (Click here to read: Toronto Life Editorial)

I am the Director of Parkdale Neighbourhood Church (PNC), a place committed to being a welcoming space for all people, while particularly valuing those who are marginalized, in the neighbourhood for which it’s named. In your editorial you state that the City’s report “comes down hard on the side of safe-guarding the status quo, even though its authors can’t identify what’s worth preserving”. You go on to say that cities are never “static”, site Yorkville as a success story and close with the thought that “Parkdale is following in the footsteps of many beloved neighbourhoods”.

Here’s the thing: Parkdale is already beloved. I can list many reasons why it is worth preserving, not least of which is its village quality, one where people of varying social status co-exist.

Those dingier storefronts you mention are where many of my friends can afford to buy what they need. I agree that nothing is static: I am not opposed to some changes in Parkdale if what it actually amounts to is a sharing of space. The problem is that all too often it means another Yorkville- a neighbourhood where services and restaurants are out of reach for the average person. Those “last-resort jewellers (‘we buy gold’) and payday loan outlets” do often prey on the people who are most vulnerable. It will not serve them well though to simply have those places replaced with high-end restaurants where they cannot afford to eat. Economic growth is not the only sign of a healthy city. It would be good to explore alternative economies, ones where people share their belongings, wealth and abilities. At PNC we are attempting to figure out what it means to invite people into full participation of a community; we believe that everyone has something to give.

I think that Councillor Perks is trying to stand up for those who quite often don’t have much of a voice. I need to do the same. As you admit, this isn’t merely a fight about noise, it goes much deeper than that. I think it necessary to come up with a plan that ensures Parkdale can retain its diversity. Diversity is worth preserving. Let’s not party poop on that.

There were so many words to say yesterday, but I decided to opt for silence. Now I don’t know where to start.

Just over a week ago a baby came into the world. Until today I haven’t publicly acknowledged the gender or name, but having been given permission to, the baby is a beautiful girl named Katie.

Yesterday Katie went to a foster home.

Yesterday, everything changed for a child, a mom, a dad and a whole community of people trying to gather around.

Yesterday and today, I weep.

I weep because parenting is already so very challenging without the additional layers of challenge these parents face. I weep because this felt like an opportunity to be “church” the way church is meant to be. I weep because I wonder if it was harder to have hope for a week than no time at all. I weep because I already miss Katie.

The tears help to soften my fear and dismay. We were church this week and need to continue being just that. I believe this caused us to consider that it really does take a whole village to raise a child. Too few of us have experienced the village actually showing up.

I am making plans with the Children’s Aid Society to get all of the things we gathered up to Katie and her foster family. Thank you to all who were able to help. Our support doesn’t end now for anybody in this situation. Neither does our hope for Katie’s future.

Our village needs to remain intact.

On Tuesday morning Joanna Moon and I met the newest member of our community: an 8 pound, 11 ounce beautiful baby girl. She has five fingers on each hand, five toes on each foot, a head full of dark hair and a sweet little mouth.

The challenge is this: the mother needs to convince many people that she is capable of taking care of her daughter.

I of course need to be careful about what I write. What I can share is that PNC is fully committed to developing a circle of support around our beloved friend. We want everyone to be safe. We want, if it is truly at all possible, for this family to remain a unit.

The reality is that resources are few.

This is where you might come in.

After our Cate was born people showered us with meals. I think we should do the same in this situation. Having a fridge and freezer stocked with meals from others will be a new experience for my friend. For those who have ever experienced being exhausted because of a situation (new parenthood or grief or…), this kind of thing can be incredibly practical and precious. Maybe this could be what you offer: a single meal.

Other things are needed too: diapers, Similac Formula (in this case, formula will be used as a supplement to breast feeding. Similac is what has been already introduced to baby’s diet), clothing, etc. A priority is a stroller. They have a crib. Maybe you have something that you have been meaning to donate to a Thrift Store; or you feel compelled to buy some diapers; or you can do neither, but are willing to pray and/or send good thoughts.

New motherhood is hard. New motherhood like this takes “hard” to a whole new level. Let’s spread some love.

My concept of “success” is constantly being challenged. A story I frequently tell, quite often as a reminder to myself of what success is and is not, goes like this:

“Barbara” is a woman who functions with various disabilities, both mental and physical. She is small in stature and big in personality. I got to know Barbara especially well while I was working at Sanctuary. We would take half an hour each Wednesday drop-in to sit at the piano where I would teach her how to hold her hands and what notes were created by which keys.

Fast forward a few years. Now working at PNC, I was excited to see Barbara walk through the doors one night for an Open Stage. Barbara decided to add her name to the list of people who wanted to perform. Our MC for the event introduced Barbara and invited her to the keyboard. Barbara took center-stage where she stood for an uncomfortable amount of time staring at a piece of sheet music. She would alternate holding it millimeters from her eyes to a few feet in front of her. I held my breath. Finally she sat down and put the music on the stand. Relaxed, she raised her right hand and proceeded to play ONE NOTE. Barbara stood triumphantly and said into the microphone, “I’d like to thank my piano teacher Erinn”.

As a piano teacher I am most often preparing students for exams at the Royal Conservatory of Music. I would be remiss to consider doing an exam the only form of success. It comes in learning to enjoy an instrument, in trying your best even when it is hard, in making your very own music. Barbara is a sweet example of this.

That night we applauded Barbara’s courage to get up and share. I’ve never seen a single key played with such great flair. What a note.

Sabbath: a period of rest.

Without Sabbath I do not know how I would function. I say this out of experience, for there have been plenty of times when I have failed to rest and as a result am a mess. Remind me of this when I forget to rest in the future.

The concept of Sabbath is rooted in the creation story: God worked to bring the world and all its inhabitants into being and when done, rested. He made this day of rest holy. I love that what was made holy was time. When I am actively choosing to not DO, it is good.

This of course is counter to much of our culture. We prioritize being busy and getting lots of stuff done, oftentimes allowing ourselves to be defined by our work. While doing our work well is so important, it is not meant to be all-encompassing. I am not simply Erinn Oxford, Director- my life is more nuanced than that.

The way my work looks demands that I carve out Sabbath on a weekday rather than a weekend. For me it is Friday. The biggest challenge I have is not making Friday my “catch-up day”. I could easily fill it with housework and all those things I failed to do during the week. I have to very intentionally choose to put those things aside and trust they will get done later. And here’s the thing: they do get done. By really resting, I am truly rejuvenated and able to return to work well.

I recently went to a place called the Cedars at L’Arche Daybreak in Richmond Hill. The Cedars is a house that one can use for quiet spiritual retreat. Whenever I’m there, I am struck by the peace that the place exudes. I always wonder why it feels so challenging to recreate that same sense elsewhere. I’m coming to understand that what is unique about the Cedars is you go there expecting to rest.

I guess that’s the heart of Sabbath- that God gives us permission to approach a day EXPECTING to rest. What an amazingly wise, loving gift, one that helps me understand who I truly am and redirects my attention to the One who matters most.

Thank goodness for Fridays.

Some days just don’t look the way you expect them to.

Take today. Instead of going to the Monday Drop-In I’m at home. This, after Cate sort of lost (read: threw-up) the bowl of oatmeal she’d just had for breakfast. I knew immediately that she couldn’t go to school. I also knew that I really needed to go to work. I found myself smack in the middle of the incredible challenge it is to be a working mother.

This challenge is complex. My own journey has been a gradual one. I stayed home with Cate until she was in school, at which time I started working very part-time. Over the years I have watched Cate’s own readiness for independence grow and have generally kept my work life in step with that. I do not take for granted that this cannot be everyone’s experience. I also understand that it is not what everyone would choose. For me it fit.

Now I work at PNC full-time and days like today happen. I have a husband who works too and so together we have to figure it out. One amazing thing is that the culture being cultivated at PNC is one where the work is shared. I absolutely know that while I will be missed, the drop-in will happen. It will be a lot of work, yes. I am grateful to the many who are taking on my part of the load. From what I can tell, we all believe it is work that is so worth it and deeply good, which is exactly the way I also view the work I stayed home to do- the work of mothering.

I know that when Cate heard me say, “you are staying home with me” there was a huge sense of relief on her little face. I also know that when I’m back at PNC, everyone will be asking about how she is. Knowing all of this makes the challenge much easier. It reminds me that struggling with balancing things is important, to take it all one step at a time and that bowls of oatmeal can teach very fine lessons.

I have been reflecting a lot on how PNC has weathered what has been an incredibly challenging year and a bit.  It has been so hard AND so deeply good. We are still here because countless organizations and individuals (you know who you are, though I intend to say this to you each directly) have come alongside and reminded us that we are not alone.  We have been offered space to run our programs, food to create the meals, money to make sure the bills we do have get paid, prayer support and the gift of people’s presence. We have come a long way together.

God has seen fit to create a new work in Parkdale, one with a deeply rooted history and now taking on new forms. I have witnessed God’s peace going deeper than the pain. I have seen with my own eyes the multiplying of “loaves and fishes” when it seemed certain there would not be enough. We have a testimony to tell.

I’m not sure that these words can truly convey my gratitude. I am thankful from every part of my being. That is not an overstatement, it’s simply the truth.

The journey is not over. In many ways it has just begun. Keep with us.

There will be more stories to share.

For a couple of years my family and I have been sharing dinner with a group of people every Wednesday night. We all affectionately refer to it as the Great Dinner Shuffle, or GDS. Each week you are either a host or a guest. If you are hosting, you prepare the meal. If you are a guest, you simply show up and eat. Key to this is that the host not feel like a “show” is necessary. If what you are up for making is grilled cheese or warming up canned soup, fantastic. If your bathroom is messy, that’s okay. One of the fundamental hopes of GDS is to create an enlarged sense of family, one that feels comfortable.

A paraphrased story that I love to tell is how walking away from our house one night, a little guy asked his dad, “is Cate our cousin”?

“No, she’s not”.

“But she is someone special to us”.

Aha! This little guy gets it. By being intentional about spending time with one another our kids have more cousins and yes, more parents; our adults feel less alone. Community is being formed.

One of my GDS friends just told me that her toddler daughter was pretending to talk on the phone with someone. When asked who she was talking to she said, “Erinn of course”. I have to admit that my heart grew another size. My hope and prayer is that when this wee one is old enough to call me for real, she will feel safe to; that I will get to watch her grow and change and learn; that I can be engaged in her life. That is what I hope Cate will experience with her additional parents too.

It’s amazing that this is growing out of something as seemingly simple as sharing meals together. Breaking bread is a beautiful thing.

The story of Timothy Bosma is stuck in my heart.

I didn’t know him. I did however grow up amongst the Dutch (though my last name was Grant- far from Dutch!) and experienced the very tight-knit community they share first hand. I also know people who knew Tim. I suppose this made me feel a little connected, though I am sure I would have felt this tragedy regardless.

I watched the footage of Tim’s widow speaking at the funeral. Her acknowledgement that people are suggesting Tim had some prior connection to the murderer(s) or that he made a stupid mistake getting into the truck was, in my opinion, brave. She went on to say that such comments are born out of fear: fear that if this could happen to a “regular” guy, doing a “regular” thing  it could happen to anyone.

I agree with her.

The truth is, horrible things happen. Every day. Much of the time these things happen far enough away that we can, for better or worse, remain detached. Sometimes though they happen in our neighbourhood, or on our street, or in our very own homes. It is during these times that we come alive to the challenge and frailty of life. Grief knocks on our door and makes itself comfortable, making us completely uncomfortable in the process. When tragedies happen to me I become much more attuned to the weeping and gnashing of teeth in those places that previously felt so far away.

I don’t know why this happened to Tim. I don’t know what could have happened in the life of whoever did this that made such an act possible. What I do know is the amazing beauty evident in the way the Bosma family and their community have responded to this. They have modeled compassion, gratitude, faith and togetherness. In the midst of the unthinkable they have clung to one another and the God who promises so much more than this messed up world.

Sharlene Bosma has described herself as “broken”. May she, may we all, be one day made complete.

Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

-from Psalm 23