I had to pull down the PNC sign from both the gate and door at 201 Cowan Avenue on the weekend. For me, this made the move official. PNC no longer has its own building.

To be honest, I am relieved that the move is finally done. It was so.much.work. The amount of “stuff” that accumulated in our space was, at least for me, astonishing. I found things that clearly were made with some purpose and yet I have no idea what for. I discovered things squirreled away in corners and cupboards. As we purged and packed I became thankful for the freedom from things. I also became admittedly overwhelmed, occasionally stressed and rather emotional.

Moving, as right as I believe it is, means 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 on Sunday of many stick people carrying a large box. She said she felt sad that the people were carrying away her church. For this little person that is indeed what is happening. Oh my.

I want to honour the sadness. I don’t want to belittle the magnitude of this change. I will join with others in weeping. I also want to persist in announcing that we are a community that exists outside of a building. We will continue to gather; to support; to create; to question; to pray; to dance; to love. I have come to enjoy describing us as a community that is spilling out into the hood. We are going to be present and very visible as we wander the streets, hold a drop-in at Bonar-Parkdale Presbyterian, tend the plot in the community garden, etc, etc.

It is also time for me to focus on developing good structure and new process. I need to find even more opportunity to share PNC’s story and invite people in. I need to raise funds. These are not small tasks. I pray for wisdom, discernment, humility and strength. I pray that I will remember that I am not alone. Because I really am not.

I have a little book of readings that I try to look at daily. The latest entry contained 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.”

Bring it on.

I am tired.

I’m sitting outside, listening to some birds, finally getting some food into my stomach after a long day of packing up PNC. There are so many details to be taken care of and my mind is a buzz. Writing calms me, so here I am.

I am very ready to be done this week. It’s not that it hasn’t been good- in fact, there have been many lovely moments: a Farewell Open Mic on Friday, a quiet service on Sunday after an encouraging morning at another church, a warm final drop-in yesterday and lots of help with packing today. It’s that we are finally staring down the move out of 201 Cowan and about to embark on the reboot that I proposed months ago. The expenses have been brought down, some final bills are being paid, a post office box has been secured and yes, we are spilling out into the neighbourhood. I am excited and hopeful and anxious.

I am also feeling vulnerable and under-housed. The community seems to connect with these feelings. People are drawing close and seeing that I “get” (in a whole new way) a lot of what they are constantly going through. We are on this journey together and it is deepening our bond. I have long felt protected by my friends in Parkdale, though now it feels even fiercer. And it truly goes both ways. I am prepared to do whatever I can to help see my community continue.

I have been brought to tears on more than a few occasions this week, and am sure this will continue. Sometimes they are tears born out of being entirely overwhelmed, but more often they are tears of gratitude. I am oh so grateful. Grateful for the way people are gathering around, for overhearing someone describe PNC as a place full of love, for having enough when it seems the well is dry, for being given this opportunity to be a leader who follows and for believing that God has promised us a future.

This trusting stuff is tiring. And deeply good.

There are days when I feel like I am constantly reminding myself to breathe. Today was one of those days. Inhale, exhale, repeat.

On my way to PNC I was imagining how this day might unfold, especially considering that Souad, my trusted Volunteer Kitchen Coordinator was going to be away. Monday is our busiest day. We easily see up to 120 people, all of whom come to eat. Add to the mix that PNC is in severe financial constraints, attempting a move by the end of the month and employer to one staff (me) and you get a girl who needs to remember to breathe. I kept thinking, “God, I need Your help. Today I need to lean into You”.

Instead of listening to music on my way in, I decided to listen to the sound of air moving through my mouth and out my nose. Inhale, exhale. This act is surprisingly calming.

Throughout the day this sense of calm pervaded the craziness. At the grocery store I only had to buy 5 lbs of carrots- the smallest shop for a drop-in I think maybe ever. There was lots of help in the kitchen and a soup/stew, bread and salad hit the tables on-time. People danced to the live music provided by Peter at the piano. I had to help diffuse a few situations outside the building that could have gone even more sideways. And actually it provided the opportunity for me to have productive conversations with the police and neighbours who are particularly feeling like my community shouldn’t be in their backyard. Someone new to PNC shook my hand as he left and said, “it does my heart good to be here”. Ah, yes- take a deep breath for there is so much good.

I am admittedly tired after a very full day. I am also so very relieved and amazed at how yet again we have been provided for. I suppose I should stop being surprised, though I enjoy the wonderment I feel again and again.

On my way home I started to think about everything that needs to happen this week. Fortunately before I got too caught up in the worry I was reminded of my early morning prayer and the way in which it was answered. God indeed helped.

Inhale, exhale, repeat.

eu.lo.gy, plural eu.lo.gies

1. A speech or writing in praise of a person or thing, especially a set oration in honour of a deceased person.

2. High praise or commendation.

I think it’s about time the definition of eulogy was changed to, “especially a set oration in honour of an alive person”. I’m not sure why it is that we save such speeches for those who have left us. What if we started “eulogizing” people while our words could serve to encourage them?

A couple of years ago we did just that at PNC. Once a month or so we would choose a member of the community to express our gratitude to. We shared memories, talked about their obvious personality traits, offered thanks for who they are and what they mean to us. It wasn’t an exercise in putting someone up on a pedestal. In fact, I felt it important that it be just the opposite: it was to honour our shared humanity. We each have strengths and weaknesses; we each succeed and fail; we each grieve and rejoice. And yes, we each have been fearfully and wonderfully made.

Death touches all of us. Regardless of how different our life circumstances are, we will each experience death. As I ponder this, I am struck by how important it is to really live life. It is not something to be taken for granted. I want to breathe deeply with all my senses. I want to care deeply about the people who co-journey with me while treating well those who I have but brief contact with. In all of it I want to rest in the hope that death is actually not the end.

When death comes, I do want the opportunity to eulogize. My desire is that it will be a speech that my friend will already have heard.

My daughter Cate recently had a chance to be part of a cool project called, “These Are the People in Your Neighbourhood”. With guidance from the Mammalian Diving Reflex and Madeleine Collective (look them up!), her grade 4 class got to know local store owners- their personal likes and dislikes,  as well as the reasons they decided to open a store. They were encouraged to imagine what kind of business they might open. Cate’s idea: a store called “Totally Hamster”. Oh, my sweet girl. On two Saturday afternoons the class gathered on the corner of a local intersection. From there they led a group of people on a tour of the storefronts they now know very well.

This whole project culminated in a beautiful gala event. Cate and her friends got to see their art displayed, including Cate’s rendering of a store dedicated to hamsters, sculpt clay, participate in a cartoon jam, listen to the stories created by the Pocketology Collective (quick! Empty your pockets and let the contents tell a story!) and view a documentary created about this whole experience.

Maybe most memorable for Cate was the opportunity to make and serve grilled cheese to the many gala attendees. Kids could either serve lemonade or be a “grilled cheese artist”. Cate donned an apron and very happily sandwiched cheese between two slices of bread that she spread with butter. She loved the Panini style grill she got to cook them on. All evening she kept saying, “this is SO MUCH FUN”.

Since that evening Cate has been a grilled cheese artist at home too. Maybe it’s a calling. Tonight she branched out and added bacon, tomato and fresh basil to the cheese. She even placed a sprig of dill on the top. I have to say, it makes me smile to see her creating in the kitchen. So much so, that I’ll even eat grilled cheese tomorrow- the fourth day in a row.

Lately I have been asked by numerous people, “how do you do it? How do you remain patient? How do you manage to be so strong in such challenging times?”.

The only thing I’m sure of is that any patience or strength I have is not really my own. True too is that I have moments when I look neither. I know that not all of you reading this believe in God. I also know that the vast majority of you know I do. I believe that God is sustaining me in all of the wildness that is PNC right now. Left to my own devices I would be feeling neither patient OR strong. In fact, when I listen to myself say things like “we had to give notice in our building without having a place to go; I’m the only staff person who needs to find funding both for myself and the organization; right now we’re doing everything we normally do with programming; the phone is cut, but you can call my cell-phone…” I think, THIS IS CRAZY.

Then something else happens.

Second Harvest arrives with an amazing donation. All I need to buy at the grocery store for Monday is a few bulbs of garlic, olive oil, cucumbers and some sweet onions. We have a chickpea/eggplant salad, green salad with homemade dressing, potato salad and chicken. Before we eat I get to announce that we will be moving but one block away for our Mondays. We all cheer.

A man who goes by “Grumpy” on the street pulls me aside and suggests that we change our name from PNC to “Hope and Goodness”.

We get to fill our plot at the community garden with herbs for our kitchen.

People who have never been involved before are showing up, helping out and wanting to be a part of this work.

A long-time friend and co-worker in other areas of my life has stepped up and offered her bookkeeping and administrative skills to the mix. What a relief!

On a dark day in terms of finances someone, without hesitation, offers to help. I can’t do anything but cry.

All of these moments, these little happenings, serve as reminders that I am not alone. There is a large group of people gathering around. And at the end of the day, when I am home and trying to imagine how tomorrow is going to be, the still small voice of God reminds me I am actually never alone. And I am urged to be patient and strong because He is those things.

What a ride.

I have long prayed the Lord’s Prayer.

I have long uttered the words, “give us this day our daily bread”.

I have maybe never meant it as much as now.

I am learning to really, truly, deeply in my gut believe that God is going to provide enough.

My version of “enough” has maybe been skewed in the past. What I was really asking for was an over-abundance, or certainly more than was needed.

Money is scarce at PNC. On Monday I spent $72 at the grocery store. Honestly every time I go to use the debit card my stomach turns a little with the anticipation that there might not be enough. But there was, and we had a beautiful meal that was shared with more than 100 people.

I am not looking for a lot. I truly am looking for enough- enough to have this community continue into the future. Part of “enough” in this sense is finding a building to house our Monday Drop-In. I admittedly have been getting nervous as we near the end of our time at 201 Cowan Avenue. Well…drumroll, please…

We have a place! We are moving into a space at Bonar-Parkdale Presbyterian Church that is bright, fully accessible, bigger than what we’re leaving and only one block away. They have very warmly welcomed us and extended much grace in terms of rent. This indeed feels miraculous.

We have received our daily bread. And it is, in every sense of the word, enough.

Since I seem to be on a roll with confessions, here’s another one: I find fundraising difficult (says the one endeavouring to raise her own salary and funding for PNC ). The problem is not a lack of faith in what I’m doing. Not only do I love it, I believe in it. I think the problem is that money makes me uncomfortable. I often lament the necessity of money and long for the day it becomes obsolete. The divide between those with much and those with little  is all too obvious. I neither live on the street, nor in a mansion. My reality is that I fall into the middle category. I live in a house with running water, a well-stocked fridge and a warm bed. Certainly relative to much of this world I am indeed rich.

So how do I proceed?

One of my favourite authors, Henri Nouwen, wrote a book called “A Spirituality of Fundraising”.  This little book has proven pivotal for me. In it Nouwen says, “fundraising is first of all, a form of ministry. It is a way of announcing your vision, and inviting other people into your vision with the resources that are available to them.” He further points out that, “fundraising is precisely the opposite of begging”.

I asked my daughter Cate to describe what she understands the vision of PNC to be. She said, “you let people in”. How beautifully straightforward and totally worth announcing.

I’m not here to beg. I’m not here to guilt anyone in to giving. For those of you who know me you’ll know this to be true. I’m simply here to extend the invitation to come in. Come in to share a meal, come in to make some art, come in to talk about your doubts, come in to have a chat, come in to discover how participating looks for you. I am grateful no matter what you decide, whether it be to get involved, support from afar or simply remember that this ministry exists.

The invitation stands: come on in. Let’s co-create something beautiful.

Having recently celebrated a birthday, I had reason to ponder the passage of time. Time, in my opinion, is a very strange thing. I often look at my daughter and can’t recall when she wasn’t with us and yet I cannot believe I am the mother of an almost 10-year-old. I look at my nephew and can remember the moment I first held him and yet he’s almost four, the same amount of years it has been since my Dad died. Oh time, where do you go?

I have a pretty vivid memory of being a young child and having a chat with my great-grandmother. I was small and she seemed so BIG. I remember her white hair and fragile skin. She told me that while she was in her nineties, she still felt seventeen inside. I admit that I couldn’t believe what my young ears were hearing. Now I get it.

I am someone who has never been good at guessing someone’s age. Nor do I love announcing my own. It’s not really that I fear aging, it’s actually that I have come to believe age just doesn’t matter. When I was a teen everyone thought I was older than I was; now people think I’m younger than I am. Some might argue this is a good thing, but for me it has always presented a huge challenge. I oftentimes feel like I don’t quite fit. So, I have decided to not worry about my age- in fact, I honestly have to occasionally figure out what age I am.

I am grateful for life and certainly thankful for the opportunity to experience another birthday. Yesterday at the PNC Drop-In countless people said, followed by a wink: “so Erinn, this is number 22 right?”.

Yes, 22 again. And again.