The blue wagon goes missing

Cold weather is arriving this week, colder than we've had yet this fall. And when you're homeless and trying to survive in the outdoors, temperatures below zero are always an issue; warm clothing a must.

A replacement wagon?

Fortunately for Sanctuary of Peace and our Tuesday Table Time ministry, we've been receiving a lot of good winterwear, snacks, handwarmers, and toiletries "survival kits" from friends who know about our street ministry. Every week, we wait outside Bissell Centre East to meet those who live on the streets or in shelters located nearby. We offer them basic necessities, often things donated to us, that folks can't afford to purchase for themselves.

A few years ago, a friend donated a blue canvas collapsible wagon that we've used to transport a lot of Table Time supplies. We've guarded it carefully because we know so many of our folks would love to have it for their own use. We've often heard, "Is that wagon up for grabs?"

and received a lot of good-natured teasing when we said, "No, we need it or we can't set up our table next week."

Even so, the wagon suddenly vanished. We realized it was missing on Sunday because we usually fill it with left over cardboard boxes after we pass out the 200+ lunch bags supplied by our supporting communities. Its absence was felt again today because we had more than the usual Table Time supplies to offer folks ahead of this coming cold snap. We did a big search for our missing wagon, with staff at the Bissell Centre helping as well. Pastor Quinn also checked with the Provincial Navigation Centre across the street. 

No luck.

The wagon was very much missed for the hour and a half that we managed to give away piles and bins of good warm clothing, snacks, toiletries and gloves (we never have enough gloves for everybody). I and others made extra trips to and from our office, juggling boxes in our arms as we tried to navigate door handles. Good thing I did my Tai chi this morning to warm up those muscles!

Unless our wagon turns up this week, which we highly doubt, we're on the lookout for a new one, and/or anyone who might like to contribute toward it.

I've priced them out, and a good collapsible wagon (we don't have a lot of storage space) costs more than $100, more like $150. It has to have a heavy-duty metal frame, with good wheels that can roll down the corrugated metal ramp from our office to the street. Cheaper wagons with tiny wheels or a box that isn't sturdy enough to carry our bins and boxes just won't cut it.

If you're looking for a way to support folks living rough in the heart of the city, cash donations to Inner City Pastoral Ministry (our old name) will help us to buy a new wagon -- or, if you prefer, gloves, snacks and other winter items that people really need right now. Click here for a link to our website's donation page. E-transfers can be sent directly to icpmgiving @gmail.com, and tax receipts will be issued by our board treasurer.

Any amount helps. Our arms and backs will be much happier when we can use another wagon, and our friends on the street are always happy to receive Table Time assistance, whatever form it takes.

Just for today, imagine...

... arriving in kindergarten in new clothes your mom bought especially for the occasion, but feeling like they're all wrong somehow.

... preferring to play with kids of the opposite gender, and being shunned by those of your assigned-at-birth gender for it.

... feeling your parents' disapproval for refusing to wear "the right clothes." 

... hating your body when you reach puberty because it's taking a shape that doesn't match who you know yourself to be.

... being bullied and made fun of by other kids because you can't fit in with the image of your assigned-at-birth gender.

... wishing you could play sports on the opposite-gendered team because your sense of competition matches better with theirs.

... being afraid of your parents' reaction if you tell them that you're feeling depressed and anxious in your body, that you are wanting to transition in some way.

... "coming out" as a trans person at school because it feels safer to try your real self out among supportive school mates than at home.

... not "coming out," just flying under the radar and feeling scared and alone because no one can know the real you, only the mis-gendered you.

... considering killing yourself because it's too hard to pretend to be someone you're not.

... talking (or not talking) to your favourite teacher, telling them about your feelings and your desire to change your name, and feeling supported and safe with them (or unsupported and afraid because of possible repercussions).

... being told by other adults that you are just going through a phase, or that you've been brainwashed by the "Trans Agenda," or that God made only two genders -- "He made you as you are and He doesn't make mistakes."

... going through a period of severe and debilitating depression and dysphoria, until your parents insist on getting help for you when you tell them everything.

... going through a period of severe and debilitating depression and dysphoria, telling your parents why, and being kicked out of the house.

... starting hormone therapy, and feeling for the first time like things are changing for the better.

... following your heart bravely, with (or without) family support, doing what you have to do to feel "right" within yourself. 

... changing your name officially to one that fits you. 

... finding a Gay Straight Alliance or other supportive group of other 2SLGBTQIA+ people who make you laugh, support you, and share your interests.

... navigating many medical hurdles and hurtful human judgments, battling gender dysphoria for years while on a lengthy waiting list for the medical care you need. 

... completing the psychological assessments and painful surgeries necessary to become who you know yourself to be.

... rejoicing in a body that finally fits you, but still worrying about the violent tendencies of those who judge you and refuse to even try to understand.

... sitting in the gallery of the Alberta Legislative Assembly, angry tears streaming down your cheeks as the government tables legislation preventing other people from being able to do what you have done to survive and thrive as a transgender person.

* * * * * * *

Today is the Transgender Day of Remembrance, a day when we remember those people who have died due to the harms caused by a society that feels uncomfortable because some people just don't fit into the expected gender boxes.

As a Catholic mom of a trans person, and someone who knows other really wonderful trans people, I can't sit in silence. My church's refusal to allow for the existence of trans people has driven me to its edges, and to a more inclusive faith community. And the government is even worse -- this has been a horrifying week for the trans community as they watch their human rights being eroded by the Alberta government's invocation of the notwithstanding clause, preventing court challenges against anti-trans legislations that endanger kids like mine.

Even one life lost because of these laws is one too many.

If you know any trans people, be sure give them your support and love today, and consider contacting your own government representatives to let them know that Trans Rights are Human Rights that you support, wherever you may be. 

Does life have to hurt this much?

I've known Damien (not his real name) for a couple of years now. I first met him on a sunny August morning at Table Time, the almost weekly outreach that Pastor Quinn and I are able to offer thanks to the donations that Inner City Pastoral Ministry receives from supporters who care about our homeless community members. 

On that particular Tuesday morning, Damien crossed the road to say hello to us. He wished us an enthusiastic "Happy Feast of the Dormition of the Mother of God!" and we had a little chat about his connection to the Ukrainian Orthodox church before he started talking philosophy with Quinn. I soon realized that Quinn and Damien had engaged in several such conversations in the past. 

In subsequent encounters, Damien struck me as a rather brilliant renaissance man, well-read and well-educated on many topics, and there was nothing he loved more than sharing what he was learning. Usually, he was coming or going from the library when we saw him. I often wondered why he didn't have a home, but whenever Quinn asked him about getting into housing, he said he was content where he was living (at Hope Mission's men's shelter, though his beliefs don't exactly fit with Hope's evangelical bent).

It has been so cold in February that there were a few Table Times that Quinn and I missed. When it's -30 with a -40 windchill, there's no point standing on the corner near Bissell Centre to hand out clothing, snacks, or toiletries because homeless people are holed up trying to stay warm in the library, malls, LRT stations or tarp/tent shelters -- wherever it's warm and bylaw officers are scarce. 

Yesterday, we learned from Bissell West staff that sometime in the recent weeks of extreme cold, Damien experienced frostbite so severe that all his fingers and one thumb had to be amputated. And my heart immediately broke for this sweet fellow who has no real home, and now, a serious disability that could have been prevented. How will he hold his beloved books and turn their pages?

What makes Damien's story even harder to bear is that the Bissell Centre West community space, which, for many years, has held a drop-in for people who are homeless and precariously-housed, is being closed on March 31st. City and province are no longer willing to support its essential services. 

Make no mistake, the community space is essential. It offers warmth on cold days, a place to get out of the blazing sun on hot days, not to mention washrooms, showers, laundry facilities, nurses who offer first aid, a clothing closet, an Indigenous cultural space, coffee, snacks, and a few other amenities that most of us who live in comfort take for granted. 

Perhaps more important than all those things, however, the community space offers a place where people can connect with their friends, and where they can receive help from staff members who have the right blend of humour and heart to really care for community members who come in. The Bissell staff I know are exceptionally kind people who go far beyond their job descriptions. I suspect that for them, working in the drop-in is a vocation more than a job. They worry when regulars don't show up. 

And regulars are people just like you and me except their lives have unraveled through no fault of their own -- people suffering from deep poverty often complicated by mental health issues, physical and/or mental disabilities, intergenerational trauma, addictions, and other challenges. Every individual has a heartbreaking story, and many, like Damien, don't talk about it.

It hurts that when the Community Space closes on March 31st, there is one less place for homeless sisters and brothers to safely gather and connect. Their supports are consistently being eroded by governments that would rather pretend they don't exist, or who want to force them all into detox facilities before they have the appropriate supports to be psychologically ready for substance-free living. The Public Spaces bylaws passed by Edmonton City Council this week will make life even more difficult for them. And I'll be surprised if people who are homeless are even mentioned in tomorrow's provincial budget.

Their supports are consistently being eroded. Yes, I'm saying it again.

And nobody is stepping up to say, "This is Wrong!"

Yesterday I sat on my back steps and sobbed for Damien and his stubs of hands, and tears also ran down my cheeks for the wonderful Bissell staff members whose hearts are completely broken -- and who are about to be laid off -- but who are still talking about a March memorial service for people who have died on our streets in the last four months. The staff know and care for the community one-on-one and don't want lives to end unremembered. 

My tears have dried up long enough to write this post, but I am left with a burning anger that chokes my throat and stings my eyes. 

That's nothing compared to Damien's pain from losing all his fingers and a thumb in the past weeks.

Does life have to hurt this much in a wealthy city and province like ours?

It shouldn't. That's why I'm telling you, friends, about what's going on. The Bissell staff's hands are tied by policies preventing them from speaking out. 

But mine aren't.

Of course, my writing isn't enough unless it motivates good people like you to do something. At the bottom of this post are the email addresses and phone numbers of the Alberta Premier and various ministers who should have a stake in caring for ALL Albertans, as well as Edmonton's city councilors and mayor, who need to be reminded to spend public money on care for the homeless rather than ineffective police and cleanup crews. I've put all this information together in one place to make contacting officials easier. 

Please -- send emails demanding that the Bissell Centre West Community Space be kept open and well-staffed, and that services for homeless people be expanded rather than cut, copying your message to your own MLA, too. If you have a few extra minutes, it would be great to follow up your email with a phone call. And if you would be so kind as to share this post among your own friends and family so that they can also help, you'd be adding numbers to these efforts. We all know there is strength in numbers.

If you live elsewhere, please consider writing and calling your own politicians demanding an increase in services for people who are homeless in your area, as well as supportive and affordable housing for all.

Life doesn't have to hurt this much. 

Not if we all work together for positive change. 

* * * * * * *

With many thanks to Jim Gurnett for his helpful words.

Provincial contacts:

premier@gov.ab.ca (Danielle Smith, Premier of Alberta) (780) 427-2251

SCSS.Minister@gov.ab.ca (Jason Nixon, Seniors and Community Services) (780) 643-6210

PSES.Minister@gov.ab.ca (Mike Ellis, Public Safety and Emergency Services) (780) 415-1550

MHA.Minister@gov.ab.ca (Dan Williams, Mental Health and Addiction) (780) 427-0165

Health.Minister@gov.ab.ca (Adriana LaGrange) (780) 427-7164

Minister.MunicipalAffairs@gov.ab.ca (Rick McIver) (780) 427-3744

IR.MinisterOffice@gov.ab.ca (Rick Wilson, Indigenous Relations) (780) 422-4144

City of Edmonton contacts:

aaron.paquette@edmonton.ca (780) 496-8138

andrew.knack@edmonton.ca (780) 496-8122

anne.stevenson@edmonton.ca (780) 496-8333

ashley.salvador@edmonton.ca (780) 496-8140

erin.rutherford@edmonton.ca (780) 496-8136

jennifer.rice@edmonton.ca (780) 496-8132

jo-anne.wright@edmonton.ca  (780) 496-8148

karen.principe@edmonton.ca (780) 496-8128

keren.tang@edmonton.ca (780) 496-8142

michael.janz@edmonton.ca (780) 496-8146

sarah.hamilton@edmonton.ca (780) 496-8120

tim.cartmell@edmonton.ca (780) 496-8130

amarjeet.sohi@edmonton.ca (No phone number that I could find)

Relentless

Tuesday is "table time." Pastor Quinn and I set up our table on the corner near the Bissell Centre to hand out clothing and winter boots. Folks came by and politely took what they needed, and loaded up on Halloween candies and bananas that were possibly frozen (it was -14 and the wind was cold; the bananas had no chance).

And the people didn't have much of a chance either. Eight police officers and a group of cheerful city workers in hazmat suits came to throw the tarps and belongings of people huddled against the building into a waiting garbage truck. I can't imagine how those workers can do what they do every day of the week. I almost cried.

Police and clean up crews are paid outrageous amounts of money -- this is what our tax dollars get us, when they should be used for building supportive, non-market housing and offering the necessary physical and mental health care to the downtown community. My heart breaks every time our homeless folks are relentlessly forced to march on as if they're only as valuable as their belongings being tossed into that garbage truck...

But I helped three people into warm winter coats this morning, shared chocolate bars, and gave away eight pairs of boots. 

Small comfort.

Please, write your politicians. Housing is a human right. If we were all as relentless in demanding housing as Police and clean up crews are forced to be in clearing encampments, there wouldn't be a housing issue.

Four hundred and twenty-one

Angel butterflies on the sashes
worn by volunteers at today's 
Homeless Memorial Service

At the Homeless Memorial Service organized by the Edmonton Coalition on Housing and Homelessness today, four hundred and twenty-one people who died of causes related to homelessness in 2023 were remembered, grieved, and honoured. 

The city medical examiner's report to city council listed the shocking number of 302 people who died with "no fixed address" last year, but this even more horrific number includes people who lived on the streets for years and whose health failed because of the effects of homelessness even though they may have been housed at the time of their death. 

Effie, who I met last July, was one of them. Effie, a beautiful butterfly like the Painted Lady butterflies released today in honour of the many people we have lost to the effects of homelessness.

My spirit is with everyone who attended the service to remember someone special today. My grieving heart tells me that we are all one family, and that we need to do whatever it takes so that no one, 
no one, 
no one is homeless.

It's time for change.

Sunday Reflection: The days are surely coming

Today's reflection is brought to you by 

Jeremiah 31:31-34.

O God,

You say the days are surely coming...

When you will put 

your law in our hearts.

When you will be our God

and we will be your people.

When we will all know you.

When?

When? 

When?

More days than not lately,

it feels like we are as far from you

as we can possibly get.

But you say the days are surely coming.

Indeed,

they have come 

for some of us

who know you are with us.

But not everyone knows, 

so how do we bring them along?

Help us to show them

your presence in our lives

by our actions --

to inspire all people

to help change our world:

When we heal the hurts we have caused our planet

and encourage everyone

to choose harmony with creation instead.

When we find ways to help the displaced among us

who are looking to belong,

inviting everyone into community together.

When we include those who are excluded because of

race, 

gender, 

sexual preference, 

disability, 

poverty, 

or societal status,

helping all people 

to see each other's common humanity.

When we share about the need for homes and care 

for those who live and die on our streets because of

trauma,

illness,

and misfortune that are no fault of theirs.

When we work beside Indigenous peoples

for the justice they have deserved all along -- 

so that our relationships are truly reciprocal.

When we live in sufficiency

rather than excess

for the sake of future generations.

When we become peacemakers

who demand compassion and non-violence

from our leaders.

The days ARE surely coming,

you say.

O God,

give us the determination

not only to pray for their arrival,

but to create a world that does what it must

until they are HERE.

+Amen

Extraordinary Sunday mornings

In the past, I pretty much knew what to expect on ordinary Sunday mornings, but since I joined the team at Inner City Pastoral Ministry in September of 2020, that has definitely changed. 

For example, this past Sunday, a large man who called himself "Big Bird" asked for a pen and some paper. "I'll write a poem, you'll see," he said. He spent a portion of our 45-minute service scribbling away on his knee, and just before it ended, he handed me his poem with the instruction, "read it for everyone to hear."

I scanned the poem quickly to be sure that it was suitable for public consumption, then got the okay from pastor Jim to read it at the microphone. People were very attentive. Though there was a slightly confusing reference to a "real bonspiel that can be surreal," Big Bird's poem was an encouragement for its listeners to take 

 

the unbeaten trail 

that will not fail 

to inevitably be 

our course of action... 

a way 

that will not lead us astray 

so that we may 

be actually there.

"Thank you for these words of inspiration, Big Bird, and for sharing them with us," pastor Jim said. The community applauded and Big Bird leapt to his feet, raising his victory-sign hands high in the air, pleased and proud that his poem had been heard and well-received.

After the service, Dan (not his real name) helped distribute Sunday's bag lunches because the communities that donated them were unable to send volunteers. Dan is a big, gentle guy, a regular at our Community of Emmanuel services and bible studies, and he was hugely helpful. Because he's from the neighbourhood, he knew a lot of the people waiting in line, easily identifying folks who needed their first lunch bag, and bypassing the ones who were reaching for seconds or thirds. 

"One lunch each, at least until most folks have one," Dan said, over and over, occasionally giving more to people that he knew were supporting family members who couldn't make it from their camps to us. Dan was a pro, ensuring that the little ladies who always want to feed half of Chinatown with our bag lunches took only one or two and moved along. They know and respect him, and he always treats them kindly but firmly. 

Every so often, Dan would hand a lunch bag or coffee to someone and, with false cheerfulness, announce, "I guess I won't be seeing you at 55 Club anymore. Operation Friendship is done and gone." Dan was trying to make light of yet another loss in a neighbourhood where loss is far too commonplace, but the disappointment, anger, and grief under his words left a lump in my throat. 

On the first of February, Operation Friendship Seniors' Society closed without warning after over 50 years of hospitality offered through its seniors' drop-in, 55 Club programs and activities, and affordable housing units. The press release cited vandalism, security issues, and underfunding as reasons for closure. "We didn't even see it coming," Dan lamented. All I could do was swallow hard and say "I'm so sorry, Dan."

Our mission statement for Inner City Pastoral Ministry says that we are an interdenominational Christian Ministry of Presence, and though we can never do enough to alleviate pain and struggle for the people who come to us, just "being there" with them is our primary focus. To listen. To help when we can. To encourage. To love.

And it's a huge privilege, too. Praying and singing together, sharing life's ups and downs, serving coffee and lunches, handing out donated winterwear, and just standing with community members in their moments of grief, pride, frustration, and joy -- or any other emotion you care to name -- makes every Sunday morning extraordinary.

* * * * * * *

P.S. If you'd like to help with what we do, don't hesitate to contact me (email address on the sidebar), or click here for the ICPM website and more details or ways to donate.

Regarding Residential Schools: Listening is the important thing

Maybe you've seen it, and maybe you haven't. An email has been going around, written by a fellow with a good heart, no question, but what he says misses the mark. It's dropped into my inbox three times already, from friends who also have good hearts. Folks who wish that all the anguish about Residential Schools would just go away.

The email in question is the fellow's lengthy letter written to a newspaper columnist, extolling the virtues of the good people who worked in Residential Schools, telling how the missionaries in his more northern community provided education and healthcare when both were lacking in the area, even mentioning how a certain brother built a merry-go-round for the children who attended the school.

But white settlers like him spreading happy stories about all the good things missionaries did is tantamount to telling residential school survivors and their children who suffer from intergenerational trauma that their experiences are not valid, and that they should just "get over it."

The fact of the matter is that the Indigenous People of our country were doing just fine before Europeans arrived on the shores of this continent. They had a very rich cultural heritage. Their world view and spirituality saw all of creation as sacred. They lived in harmony with the land and its creatures and developed a kinship with them that helped their environment to thrive even as people harvested enough to live on. They operated with a sense of abundance rather than scarcity, and gave generously rather than hoarding or commodifying things. Yes, there were disagreements and even a few battles among tribes, but overall, they sued for peace in the covenants known as treaties, for the sake of good relationships. They had rich trading, gifting, and sharing practices, a deep understanding of the medicinal values of plants, and a deep gratitude to Creator for all the gifts Creator provided for them. They saw everything as gift.

To put it bluntly, THERE WAS NO NEED FOR RESIDENTIAL SCHOOLS.

But then Europeans came with their sense of superiority over the Original peoples, and a desire to own this land, and the past almost 400 years of historical injustices wiped out entire Indigenous communities that had been self-sufficient for over a thousand years before settlers arrived. 

Blaming government for setting up the system and creating legislation that took away Indigenous land and rights, and defending the missionaries who got mixed up in the mess (or took advantage of it as employment for its many religious folks) is definitely not what's needed right now.

Settler peoples have talked at First Nations people long enough. It's time to listen. With shame and humility. To hear their pain without defending anything. To let their hurts seep into our souls. To let them know that even though we are deeply ashamed about what happened to them and our own past apathy regarding their struggles, we are with them, and that we want to walk with them, to right past wrongs, so we can all move toward healing and hope as a community, as a planet.

We need to learn from Indigenous people by hearing their stories and their wisdom if they are willing to share. But we should not expect them to educate us -- they owe us nothing, and they have been through enough already without having to revisit their trauma for the sake of helping us to understand it. Rather, it's up to us to seek out the many educational resources available -- books, webinars, videos, documentaries, websites. There are so many options, and there is so much to learn.

And once we have learned, we need to shift our thinking, our world view, toward seeing that all is gift, including the people who are hurting -- and who are forgiving us. And we still need to listen. Listening and walking alongside them, and feeling that we are all relations is the only way to heal this centuries old rift -- and save our planet from the kind of destruction that has been caused by forgetting that we need to live in harmony with it and each other. 

They are our teachers in learning to see everything as Creator's gift. Listen!

If you are looking for useful links and resources, here are some (that I keep flogging because I have found helpful):

• Treaty Talk: Sharing the River of Life  -- a beautiful 50 minute video about the re-beginnings of relationship between some settlers and Indigenous people in the last few years
• Indigenous Canada -- an excellent free course through the University of Alberta that teaches Canadian History from an Indigenous Perspective
• 21 Things You may not Know about the Indian Act -- short summary article by Bob Joseph and his more detailed book, 21 Things You may not Know about the Indian Act: Helping Canadians Make Reconciliation with Indigenous Peoples a Reality
• Edmonton Public Library's Prairie Indigenous Collection, which includes books by Indigenous writers from Manitoba, Saskatchewan and Alberta (maybe your library has something similar, or has these titles in its collection)
• Aboriginal Peoples Television (APTN) and many CBC radio programs

If you have other favourite resources along these lines, I'd love to hear about them!

Sunday Reflection: Approaching God's grace with boldness

Today's reflection is brought to you by

Hebrews 4:16.

Creator,

St. Paul invites us today

to approach your throne of grace

with boldness.

Today is also the third anniversary 

of my broken heart.

So I approach to ask you

for love, light, healing and wholeness

for the one who broke my heart,

for me,

and for all whose hearts are broken.

I also pray that the civic leaders

for whom Albertans are voting tomorrow

will step up 

and care for all,

but especially the broken-hearted

who are cold 

on our streets

with winter not far off.

Your grace is what holds us all.

Help us all to be your grace

for each other

and to bring your grace

wherever it's most needed.

+Amen

* * * * * * *

I was very fortunate to take a course on Children's Literature when I was in university, and this battered and well-beloved paperback was my favourite textbook in that class. T. H. White's whimsical tale of the young Arthur before he found The Sword in the Stone was such fun to read compared to the sleep-inducing stuff from other classes I had to take for my education degree. 

Chapter 21 in particular really moved me. White's recounting of Badger's Treatise -- on the story of the creation of the creatures on the fifth and sixth biblical days -- gave me a different image of our Three-In-One Creator, whose love for all they made shines through in the dialogue. I wish the author had been a bit more careful with his pronouns throughout (he got it right toward the end), and though I've always had issues with God setting "man" above the rest of all creation, given that the story was first published in 1939, I guess we have to take it as it is. 

Enjoy this little piece about the moment when all of creation approached the Creator's grace with boldness, shared out of my broken down and rubber-banded but no-pages-missing copy of Terence Hanbury White's The Sword in the Stone, (ISBN 0-440-98445-9, Dell Publishing Co, New York, NY © 1939, Twenty-third printing -- Sept 1983). And I'd recommend the entire book as a delightful read! You should be able to find a copy that's not falling apart at your library. 

* * * * * * *

 The Badger’s Treatise – from the end of Chapter 21 in T. H. White’s The Sword in the Stone

"People often ask as an idle question whether the process of evolution began with the chicken or the egg. Was there an egg out of which the first chicken came, or did a chicken lay the first egg? I am in a position to state that the first thing created was the egg.

"When God had manufactured all the eggs out of which the fishes and the serpents and the birds and the mammals and even the duck-billed platypus would eventually emerge, he called the embryos before him, and saw that they were good.

"Perhaps I ought to explain… that all embryos look very much the same. They are what you are before you are born, and, whether you are a peacock or a cameleopard or a man, when you are an embryo you look just like a peculiarly repulsive and helpless human being…

"The embryos stood up in front of God, with their feeble hands clasped politely over their stomachs and their heavy heads hanging down respectfully, and God addressed them.

"He said: ‘Now you embryos, here you are, all looking exactly the same, and We are going to give you the choice of what you are going to be. When you grow up you will get bigger anyway, but We are pleased to grant you another gift as well. You may alter any parts of yourselves into anything which you think would be useful to you in after life. For instance, at the moment you can’t dig. Anybody who would like to turn his hands into a pair of spades of garden forks is allowed to do so. Or, to put it another way, at present you can only use your mouths for eating with. Anybody who would like to use his mouth as an offensive weapon, can change it by asking, and be a corkindrill or a saber-toothed tiger. Now then, step up and choose your tools, but remember that what you choose you will grow into, and will have to stick to.’

"All the embryos thought the matter over politely, and then, one by one, they stepped up before the eternal throne. They were allowed two or three specializations, so that some chose to use their arms as flying machines and their mouths as weapons, or crackers, or drillers, or spoons, while others selected to use their bodies as boats and their hands as oars. We badgers thought very hard and decided to ask three boons. We wanted to change our skins for shields, our mouths for weapons, and our arms for garden forks. These boons were granted to us. Everybody specialized in one way or another, and some of us in very queer ones. For instance, one of the lizards decided to swap his whole body for blotting paper, and one of the toads who lived in the antipodes decided simply to be a water-bottle.

"The asking and the granting took up two long days – they were the fifth and sixth, so far as I remember – and at the very end of the sixth day, just before it was time to knock off for Sunday, they had got through all the little embryos except one. This embryo was Man.

"‘Well, Our little man,’ said God. ‘You have waited till the last, and slept on your decision, and We are sure you have been thinking hard all the time. What can We do for you?’

"‘Please, God,’ said the embryo, ‘I think that You made me in the shape which I now have for reasons best known to Yourselves, and that it would be rude to change. If I am to have my choice I will stay just as I am. I will not alter any of the parts which You gave to me, for other and doubtless inferior tools, and I will stay a defenseless embryo all my life, doing my best to make unto myself a few feeble implements out of the wood, iron and other materials which you have seen fit to put before me. If I want a boat I will endeavor to construct it out of trees, and if I want to fly I will put together a chariot to do it for me. Probably I have been very silly in refusing to take advantage of your kind offer, but I have done my best to think it over carefully, and now hope that the feeble decision of this small innocent will find favour with Yourselves.’

"‘Well done,’ exclaimed the Creator in delighted tones. ‘Here, all you embryos, come here with your beaks and whatnots to look upon Our first Man… the only one who has guessed Our riddle, out of all of you, and we have great pleasure in conferring upon him the Order of Dominion of the Fowls of the Air, and the Beasts of the Earth, and the Fishes of the Sea. Now let the rest of your get along, and love and multiply, for it is time to knock off for the week-end. As for you, Man, you will be a naked tool all your life, though a user of tools: you will look like an embryo till they bury you, but all others will be embryos before your might; eternally undeveloped, you will always remain potential in Our image, able to see some of Our sorrows and to feel some of Our joys. We are partly sorry for you, Man, and partly happy, but always proud. Run along then, Man, and do your best. And listen, Man, before you go…’

"‘Well?’ asked Adam, turning back from his dismissal.

"‘We were only going to say,’ said God shyly, twisting their hands together. ‘Well, We were just going to say, God bless you.’"

Reflections on National Indigenous Peoples' Day 2021

The t-shirt I'm wearing today

With the recent revelation of the discovery of 215 unmarked graves at a former Residential School in Kamloops, BC, 104 others near Brandon, Manitoba, and the potential for many more across the country (the Truth and Reconciliation Commission gave 4,100 as a number of named and unnamed students who died at the schools -- but it's likely higher), our Indigenous brothers and sisters, and hopefully those of us around them, are very aware that there's a lot of grief that comes with being of Aboriginal descent these days. Yesterday at the Inner City Pastoral Ministry, Garry* told me that he was a Kamloops survivor. I'm so glad he is! His smile is a reflection of the sun even as his community carries so much pain... pain that no one should ever have to carry.

Today I'm marking National Indigenous Peoples' Day quietly, thinking of him, and of the childhood friend who taught me about indigeneity through her friendship. We were friends for just a few years in my childhood, as my family moved away from our shared small town in Saskatchewan when I was nine years old. Noreen was a child of the Sixties Scoop and a wonderful friend, but wasn't a letter writer, so we lost touch. She paid my family a visit in Edmonton when I was in High School and it was so great to see her again, but again, we lost touch. For many years. And I never stopped missing her.

When the internet became a place to find people, I googled her and found a picture of her riding a camel in Madagascar, but the website that displayed it offered no way to reach her. Then in 2015, Facebook came to the rescue. I found someone with her name, sent a tentative message, and our friendship as adults (in the same city!) began. 

Then three years ago, Noreen returned to her First Nations community in Saskatchewan, and lost her connection with Facebook when her phone died. I tried everything I could think of to reconnect, but was at a complete loss. I wrote a poem for her and sent it to her last email address, not knowing what else to do. That didn't work either.

But with the announcement of the 215 children lost because of the Kamloops Residential School just recently, I dreamed of my friend, and redoubled my effort to find her. Fortunately, I discovered her daughter on social media and asked to connect with her mom once again. And in no time at all, Noreen and I were texting like no time had passed, talking about our families and gardens and friendship. She has made a huge difference in my life in ways I can't even begin to express, but mostly in giving me an unending desire to connect with many other Indigenous sisters and brothers. Her friendship is an incredible gift, one I've done nothing to deserve, and I am grateful for her, so today I sent her the poem that got lost in cyberspace, and tomorrow we might video call each other, I hope!

I'm very grateful for her, and for the wisdom and goodness of Turtle Island's Original peoples, who have forgiven us so much already, and who are willing to work with us toward reconciliation of the many wrongs Canada's settler population have ignored for too long. There's so much I learned in the Indigenous Canada course two months ago that all Canadians should know -- so that we can begin to heal the hurts.

I pray that in the years to come, we will become aware of all the festering issues that need to be healed and attend to them with speed and compassion. We have so much work to do to apologize and fix things, and it all starts with reaching out to each other. Yesterday at the Inner City Pastoral Ministry, a group of dancers came to do a demonstration and educate us a little bit. I leave you with a few beautiful images from a very touching morning with such kind, and talented dancers, all! Their strength and goodness were more than inspiring. 

May we all be inspired to build relationships of peace and justice!

*Not his real name.

I'm F.I.N.E., how are you?

I could almost wear this as a t-shirt...

When Canadian murder-mystery novelist Louise Penny began her Chief Inspector Gamache series of 16 books in 2007 (excellent novels listed if you click here), I'm sure she had no inkling of this pandemic we are moving through. But the character of her mad poet, Ruth Zardo, wrote a slim book of poetry called "I'm F.I.N.E." Which, the reader learns, stands for F**ked up, Insecure, Neurotic and Egotistical.

And who among us hasn't felt all of those things in the 390-some days that we have been living under pandemic restrictions of one kind or another? 

As someone with Type I diabetes, my turn for a vaccine came up on Tuesday, and I was online with Alberta Health Services at the crack of 8 a.m., lucky to secure my first immunization against covid for that afternoon. I stood in a socially-distanced line with hundreds of other Albertans (some from out of town, I learned) and thanked heaven for getting me there, keeping me safe from the virus for well over a year, when my own nephew was stuck in a covid hotel. (Thankfully, he has recovered and was released from his quarantine just yesterday.)

In my F.I.N.E. state over the past 13 months, I've managed to mostly keep my equilibrium, but the feelings of being messed with, insecure, neurotic and egotistical made regular appearances -- as I felt spring and fall allergies in my throat, watched anti-mask rallies held by people who have little regard for the common good, second-guessed whether the health officials were doing enough or not enough, experienced the churning mind and high anxiety of 2 a.m. insomnia that never did allow for sleep, and when I think of all those people who can't protect themselves very easily because they are deemed essential workers while I am safe at home...

Now that I have been vaccinated, it's a bit better. I'm fine -- better than fine because I don't feel like my diabetes combined with covid will be my death sentence -- but still F.I.N.E. by Louise Penny's standards... worried for everyone who hasn't been vaccinated (especially those in countries that aren't receiving vaccine while we are so fortunate!) and those anti-maskers and anti-vaxxers who refuse to accept the science for the sake of world health. How do we convince them?

Of course, there is a way around being F.I.N.E. -- and that is, to forget myself and step out to do things for others... which is something I have been somewhat hesitant to do because our health officials keep telling us to stay home so that our hospitals don't overflow. 

So for the next two weeks at the very least, I am still sheltering in place. I expect that our presently cresting third wave will keep us all from being out and about much until we bend the curve down again. After that, as more and more of us are vaccinated, I'm hopeful that we can be more fine than F.I.N.E.

How are you?

Mental health practices in a pandemic

What have you done for your mental health lately?

Bell Canada, one of our communications providers, is marking its eleventh annual "Let's Talk" day, focusing on mental health. They post a video (that I'll share below) and donate five cents toward these mental health initiatives each time it's viewed. They'll add another five cents when we use their "Let's Talk" promotional images on social media platforms (for example, a Facebook or Instagram photo frame).

Besides supporting Bell's efforts to assist mental health, I'm giving some thought to my own mental health, and I invite you to do the same. What are you doing to lift your own spirits in these strange days of pandemic? Here's my list, some of which I manage to do daily:

- physio exercises (to repair a sore shoulder) 

- a pot of tea (to keep myself hydrated) 

- morning meditation (trying to let go, let be, be inspired to make a difference)

- Tai chi (to keep my body in shape)

- a walk with Shadow-dog (to keep him from driving us all crazy)

- some cheerful tunes or an amazing symphony (with or without dancing)

- creativity (these moodlings, or maybe some other writing)

- a word puzzle or sudoku (to keep the neurons firing)

- one piece of fair trade chocolate (antioxidants!)

- a video or phone call with people I love (beyond my home)

- a bit of effort to encourage others in some way (my life is not just about me!)

In honour of "Let's Talk" day, I phoned three friends this morning, people who, like me, are hunkered down at home, and struggling with the strangeness of these days. I realize that not everyone is able to live as physically distanced as I do, or able to give much thought and effort toward their mental health on a regular basis. 

But maybe it helps to be aware that our bodies, minds and spirits are so connected that even if we can't invest a lot of time or energy into defined mental health practices, anytime we get up and move, eat something healthy, breathe deeply, hear inspiring music, appreciate beauty, see the face of someone we love, or stroke the fur of a beloved pet, that we are contributing to our overall wellness, which adds to mental health.

And if that's not enough and you are feeling lower than you've ever felt, please, please, talk to someone. Share your struggle. We all need help now and then, and we all need to talk things out with people we trust. I do that at least once a month for my sanity's sake, and daily with my partner. Whatever works for people is what I want to support.

Here's Michael Buble in that lovely little "Let's Talk" video I mentioned earlier.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VUY-rizctHA

 

And if that didn't cheer you, here he is again, this time singing a tune that never fails to get me up and dancing, with a big smile on my face... wanna dance with me? Appreciation to Bell Canada for its "Let's Talk" initiative. Be good to yourself and everyone else today!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xdRIDS6UmYU

Sunday Reflection: On Being Beloved

Photo by Jude Beck on Unsplash

Today's reflection is brought to you by 

Acts 10:34-38.

You love us all,
O God.

Each one of us 

is your favourite child,

and so is all of creation.

Clearly, 

my heart is not so big as yours.

I only want to love 

the people who do good things,

who care for the oppressed,

who love their neighbours and pray for their enemies,

who love their enemies and pray for their neighbours.

But we are all 

your Beloved,

neighbours and enemies alike.

You are present 

in every single one of us,

and ask us to see 

your presence 

in each other

no matter who we are 

or how we behave.

Clearly, 

my heart is not so big as yours.

Loving our enemies... 

doesn't come easily.

Thank you for loving me, 

Beloved.

Enlarge my heart to love as you love.

+Amen.

Supporting our Healthcare Workers

I don't generally moodle about real-time events, but this is worth posting here. Our healthcare workers need our help and support against a government that is more interested in the financial bottom line than the human one. If you are able, consider helping in one of the ways mentioned below. If you can't give support in person, consider writing letters, using social media, and contacting your MLA directly.

This info was sent to me by Climate Justice Edmonton, some fine people with whom I've had some positive connections in the past. I am happy to share it here, though not happy with our government for causing this crisis for our front line workers in the middle of a pandemic!

Healthcare workers across Alberta started a wildcat strike today.

Workers are protesting privatization and layoffs. The general services and LPN workers who initiated the strike are some of the lowest paid and most vulnerable public sector workers. Their courage is absolutely inspiring.

Never forget: patient care conditions are working conditions! Standing up for these workers shows that patients (all of us!) deserve to receive high quality care within the universal public system. Privatization and layoffs threaten pay for already low-paid workers and the quality of care for patients.

Supporting this strike is essential for us in the environmental/climate justice movement. Climate justice is environmental justice. Climate justice is health justice. Climate justice is racial justice.

Here's how you can show up for healthcare workers right now:
The #1 thing you can do is go to a picket line! You can find out where strikes are happening in this thread. Bring a sign!

Don't have time to stick around? Bring coffee, snacks, and hand/foot warmers. It gets cold standing outside!

If you can't go to a picket line, share support and calls for the Province and AHS to halt the planned layoffs and privatization initiatives on social media.

Click here if you have questions! We're happy to connect folks with information and resources.

See you on the picket line!
CJE

Sunday Reflection: We are all bread and wine

Today's reflection is brought to you by

1 Corinthians 10: 16-17. 


O Christ,
you are the cup of blessing,
you are the bread broken for us,
by us.

One bread,
one cup,
shared with all of humanity
so that we might learn
to be broken
and to be blessing
in spite of our brokenness.

So that we might learn
that we are all one body,
in union with
black lives,
indigenous lives,
LGBTQ+ lives,
unborn lives,
"other" lives that barely touch our own
but who, 

with us, 

are part of
one body,
one Spirit in You.

Forgive our blindness,

heal our hypocrisy,

and help us to change ourselves 

and our world.

Make us into your cup of blessing,
your bread broken
that the world might live.

+Amen

* * * * * * * 

Moodling here hasn't happened lately simply because the murder of George Floyd left me speechless. What can a white, middle-class, middle-aged woman possibly say in the face of something like that? Not much except that Black Lives Matter to me, always have, and always will, though I am aware that I live in a state of white privilege that belies that statement. If Black Lives Matter, how does my life show it?

When Donald Trump was elected, I couldn't bear to spend the next day alone, so I went to have lunch with some of my friends at L'Arche. We were five or six different skin colours around the table, and we talked about the racism my friends face here in Edmonton, and how Trump's presidency might "normalize" racist behaviours for those already leaning that way. The murder of George Floyd and Trump's behaviour since show that it seems to have come true. But facing facts, these injustices have been happening for centuries, probably because too many of us have felt powerless to stop them, and because we have been too comfortable in our own lives, where these injustices don't touch us often enough.

Clearly, the president of the U.S. favours the white having the might. But God has no favourites -- she and he made every one of us favourite children, equal in God's sight. And contrary to the holy pictures I grew up with, Jesus and Mary were brown-skinned Middle-Easterners. It's an awfully messed-up Christianity that insists otherwise! And it's time to change that. 

As I mourn for George and so many others, including our missing and murdered indigenous men and women here in Canada, I can't help but think that we're past time for those of us who have lived in a bubble of white privilege to be broken, to have our comfort and complacency overturned in a way that allows us to feel the deep hurts of those who have lived with injustice for many hundreds of years. It's our turn to break, to enter into the pain. To sit with those who are hurting in ways that we don't understand -- until we finally understand. To see every single person as a family member. To stop shaking our heads about injustice, and to actually make justice, to insist on justice even if it means we have to lose our comfortable lives in order to relate more fully with those who are being treated unjustly. It's our turn to become blessing instead of guilty bystander as injustices rage around us, because of us.

There are many organizations that are working to combat racism that need our help. We are called to become like Christ, which means to become the bread broken for the world, the cup of blessing shared with all. We can contribute our time, talent or treasures to anti-racism organizations. And we can reach out with love to all those who are facing injustices on a regular basis, simply by befriending, listening, and doing what we can to make change.

We are all meant to be bread and wine for each other. No exceptions.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q77uRQxKDCY