ERINN OXFORD

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.

Posted on April 22, 2014April 22, 2014 by erinnoxford · 4 Comments

Aroma Buffet

My Mom lives in complex continuing care at a local hospital. About a decade ago she needed to have a brain tumour removed and has called various hospitals home since then. The surgery took away much from my Mom, including her gag and cough reflex. This loss means not being able to eat food via her mouth.

Think about it: my Mom never gets to taste anything other than a bit of toothpaste. Though I feel close to this reality, I still can just not imagine.

My Mom is occasionally able to come over to our house, usually for visits that last an afternoon. She lives just a couple of blocks away from us, so she always keeps a close eye on the weather reports to see if riding in her wheelchair over will be possible vs. taking a special cab. This Saturday promised to be beautiful, so we decided it would be the day for our traditional Easter dinner of ham and scalloped potatoes.

Given that my Mom can’t eat, you might wonder why we would plan a feast that would coincide with her visit. The reason is twofold: my Mom loves to visit around a table and she loves to smell. I spent the morning cooking with this in mind. We affectionately call it creating an “aroma buffet”. Once we settle around the table I put together a plate of food that I then pass under my Mom’s nose. I always wonder if it just makes not being able to eat more difficult, but she always happily takes a deep breath.

They say that when you lose a sense the other senses are heightened. There is something incredibly moving about witnessing my Mom’s willingness to participate in meals in a different way now. I hope that her sense of smell somehow helps to compensate for her lack of taste, even if it is just a little. Though I can still take food into my mouth, I want to learn to deeply appreciate my nose. I don’t want to take being able to eat for granted.

Bring on the aroma buffets.

I work very hard to be present to the moment. This does not come easily for me. I have this imagination that likes to run amuck devising what may or may not happen in the future. When this happens I have learned to shake my head and sometimes literally grab it in order to turn my gaze on what is right in front of me. My inner voice asks, “what can you focus on?”. The answer is sometimes the coffee I am drinking or the dishes in the sink or the book in my bag- seemingly simple things that bring me back to reality.

For a long time a friend has persistently asked me to go to a Zumba class with her. Zumba, for those who don’t know is a dance/aerobics fitness program inspired largely by Latin Dance. Zumba isn’t new to me, though I hadn’t participated in a long time [ahem]. After a particularly hard week, er month, this friend told me she would pick me up and take me with her. She kept telling me that it would be the best way to shake off my stress. She was absolutely right.

I haven’t been too many times, but I already hate to miss. I am not very good at it (read: I am terrible), but for that hour I get lost in the music and don’t worry about anything other than making my legs and arms go in the right direction. I sweat. Occasionally I think I might faint. And I have the BEST sleep after it all.

I know that the more strategies I have for living in the now, the better. I am learning to do what I suggest to so many people in my Dale community on a regular basis: take things one step at a time. Even the baby-est of steps are to be celebrated. Zumba is one of my steps toward a healthier life.

With this in mind, I better go practice my salsa.

I identify as a Christian. I don’t think anybody who knows me would be surprised by this. When once asked about what difference my faith makes, I quickly answered, “I have a transformed life because of it”. I can’t imagine this life without this faith.

It is all too easy for Christians to misrepresent Christ. I’m not here to point fingers at others in this. I’m here to point a finger at myself. One of the most common complaints I hear from the world is that Christians are a bunch of hypocrites. Over the course of my life I have come to believe that the issue people have isn’t so much that Christians mess up, it’s more that we don’t admit it and continue to claim the moral high ground. Therein lies the hypocrisy, and I’m certain I have contributed to it. I am here to acknowledge that I do things wrong all the time: some lie deep in my heart and I mask well, others are blatantly obvious. When I describe myself as having a transformed life, I am not claiming that I have it all together. Friends, I am far from it.

I do believe that God knows and sees all of my wrongs, including those things I have hidden away. In God I have discovered a grace that covers all these things. I am forgiven. I am constantly aware of the now and not-yet aspect of my faith though: while I am completely forgiven I am not yet whole. In the context of my faith I have to work out the fact that I need to receive mercy over and over for continuing to do those things I actually hate.

What I desire to do is choose love, again and again and again. I choose what Christ said Himself: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself.All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” What sounds simple is astonishingly hard.

I have sought out community, both in Parkdale and elsewhere that endeavours to acknowledge what much of the world thinks we don’t (or won’t): our individual and collective brokenness. In these places I am learning to love God, to love myself and to love others. I am learning what it means to act justly, love mercy and walk humbly. I am grieved when my humanness gets in the way of people seeing the true Christ and relieved when I remember that it isn’t just up to me.

“Let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth”. Oh God, make it so.

Posted on April 1, 2014 by erinnoxford · 2 Comments

Perspective

It was a long winter (see how I used the past tense there? I’m really hoping spring is here). I didn’t find winter easy and I live in a house. I can’t imagine how much harder it would all be by sleeping outside night after cold night. I can’t imagine and yet I have many friends who did it. For some of my friends who do live inside, winter still served to further isolate, made it harder to get around and magnified challenges that already seemed only somewhat manageable.

I’ve been asking these same friends what they are grateful for. What are the good gifts that they have received lately?

In no particular order, here are some of the responses:

a good cup of coffee
a friend’s health is getting better instead of worse
a song that the jamming group played at the Monday Drop-In got people dancing
doughnuts as “large as my face”
a few weeks of sobriety
the sidewalk is clear and DRY
The Dale is becoming my family
people listened when I got so upset
I needed a blanket and out-of-the-blue someone actually gave one to me
I got a job
the sun is shining
I heard birds singing
I slept on a couch instead of in a stairwell
I was able to see an old friend
I’m still alive

Helps me keep things in perspective.

Now I’m going to pour myself a good cup of coffee, remind myself that I am indeed alive and make my own list.

Posted on March 22, 2014 by erinnoxford · 2 Comments

The Rules

I’ve been writing here for some time now and quite often it relates to my work at The Dale. Close to twenty years ago, in my early days of doing this kind of work, I would send out hard copy newsletters to the people supporting me (I still do, but on a lesser scale). Those newsletters were most effective when they contained real stories of my every day life. Now I have access to this public platform in order to share. I am aware this opens up all kinds of possibility, i.e. having a far wider reach, but also demands maybe a different level of care. I have no control over who reads or shares my little newsletter.

I want to assure all of you that I have created some ‘rules’ for myself here. One is that I seek permission from the community to tell their stories. Sometimes I am told right in the middle of an experience that I should “make sure I tell people about this” or that I don’t need to ask. Other-times I know immediately that a story should be held tight and it stays in my heart or journal. Another rule is that I change defining features of people in order to uphold their confidence. This isn’t always necessary, but when it is I will for example, change someone’s name (I put the new name in quotation marks). Further, I sometimes need to generalize an experience so that it is less about an individual and more about what I learned through them.

I don’t take my responsibility here lightly. Each day I pray that my eyes, ears and heart will be open to what I need to see, hear and learn. And I assure you, I know that I need to be taught a LOT. I am humbled by the invitation I have received to be in the position I am at The Dale and hope to represent it well, in as transparent and vulnerable way as possible.

Thank you to my readers for supporting and challenging me along the way. I know there is no shortage of reading material out there and so I appreciate when people choose to drop by. The journey is made sweeter by not being alone.