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 trailthat will not failto inevitably be
our course of action...a waythat 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.
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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.
