the saga continues

last nights drop-in was a busy one. They've been realy busy lately, and not only is it the end ofthe month but it was also raining last night - tensions were running high. There werent too many scuffles but one guy after dinner started yelling and pounding his chest and looking for a fight - then proceeded to push over tables couches etc. He got taken out and just continued to cause a ruckus in the parking lot.Anwyays, woudlnt you know asIdragmyself onto the subway around midnight, who is getting on the same car - and alot more drunk. oh dear.

The situation with S. cleared up entirely last night. I though he was avoiding me so i followed suit and didnt tryto make eye contact or anything. At a certain point he came over adn was like oh drop it! yeah you pushed buttons but i dont want to lose our friendship over this. I appologised for crossing boundaries and we hugged. hoorah! And myself and his girlfriend are on good terms as well. I dont want to speculate about how the two of them are doing (i know theyre broken up but that is always changing).

Today during arts drop-in G. smashed a brick through the front windshiled of a van of one of the staff members here. That was a great time.

mistake?

Before I continue Louie's story, I need to write about some stuff thats been going on recently, or else I'll never catch up!!

I really messed up yesterday... big time! I have a good good friend on the street, I'll call him S. I love him like a brother.. he's always been great to me. Oh man I'm going to have to get into a lot to expalin this story. Believe me or not, a lot of the policing downtown is corrupt (shock!). I've seen the imprint of bootmarks on the friends chest... but usually theyll just strap a phonebook to someones chest and beat them with a bat to break their ribs but leave no marks. I had a friend, G. who was handcuffed then pushed face first downa flight of stairs. It happens, some of the cops are FANTASTIC, but it happens. Anyways... the cops know a lot of the guys out there real well, like know their records and stuff. My buddy S. has a record.. he's been involved in OC since he was a kid, and has collected and stuff for the hells angels for decades. His major charges have been assault. He and his sisters were raped for years by a family member and when S. turned 18 he found the guy beat him with a crowbar and left him for dead. The rest of S's major assault charges were all agaisnt pedophiles as well. The cops know this. The cops also have their hands tied... or pretend to atleast.

A guy whose been hanging out ont he streets recently allegedly raped a 6 year old girl last week. The cops were out looking for the guy and apparently wanted to hurt the guy but didnt want to get their hands dirty. They know S.' record though, so of course... who do they take the picture to, to ask if he's seen him and oh-so-subtly slip in what the guy is being charged with. Needless to say, although S knew he would just be the cops pawn, he wanted to beat the shit out of the guy. It's called street justice, and apparently I'm too naive to understand. The cops also offered s protection if he would 'take care of it'. It's not uncommon for cops to ask the guys on thes treet who is going to take care of certain thigns, cops or skids. It's either the cops will arrest someone and who knows the process it will all be, or the cops can turn a blind eye and be sure street justice will occour - and they don't have to get their hands dirty.

So myself and L come walking by S jsut after the cops leave him and he's FUMING - like ready to go kill this guy. I havent really developed an opinion or philosophy of harm reduction, but hte buddy I was with took him to a park north of downtown, bought him a bunch of beer and a bottle of wine, got him drunk and put him to bed. He claims that if L. hadn't done it there would have been a homicide on our hands. That's a scary thought. I get street justice, I really do. I get that thigns are different out there and if you mess up you get punched out. But just because I don't agree with it doesnt mean I don't get it.

S and I have had a few great God talks. He even came to L.'s baptism to support him. His opinion is, however that he cant believe in a God that would forgive pedophiles and people who would hurt women and children. legitimate. and he feels condemned by God. S beats his street girlfriend up.... I think only when he's drunk.. but it's pretty bad. She didnt have to tell me, it's quite obvious, I just didn't want to believe it. Anyways, after having sat with her on a number of occasions as she's bawled about the abuse she's suffering I have gotten pretty stirred about it, so yesterday more in a moment of desperation I just asked s straight out if he beats her up. bad mooooove. I thought we were close enough that I could go there, but I've realised that just becuase someone will let you in really far in one area of their life... there might be another area that youre jsut not allowed to touch. this was it for S. He flipped on me, and figured it was her that told me (though id heard dit on the street long before she told me) and stormed off. Oh man... did I ever worry and regret myself silly yesterday.

oh if i could write forever... but bed calls :)

To explain my ridiculously long absence:
1) I have been spending sooooooo much (perhaps foolish amounts) of time on the street, which has left little time for anything or anyone else
2) My computer has died! ressurection postponned indefinately.

The fact that I have been spending so much time on the streets though, has given me a lot of material. I'm convinced I'll enver be able to write on here all of the stories and reflections that I wish to write about, but I will reflect on the most profound. And the most major thing that has happened in the last few weeks is just that - major!

It all started about a month ago now - after work on a monday night I felt an intense urge to instead of hop on the subway take another walk around through yorkville. It was already late by now.. around ten I think but I stopped upon a drunk guy I knew just barely, named Louie. He was a little drunk and panning so I sat down with him. Now is when I wish I were more disciplines in keeping this up, becuase I really forget the topic of our conversation that night. I think he shared with me some of his stories.. affirming how tough a guy he was.

Two days later, I again found myself with a strong urge to walk around the city some more after work. I found my dear friend G. rocking back and forth on the ground ionfront of the bay street subway entrance. I sat down with him and for the next hour or so sat teary eyed, being informed over and over again of the gruesome details of his childhood sexual abuse. Then Louie came strolling along, also pretty intoxicated and he sat down and him and the three of us just chilled for a bit, then i decided it was probably time to head home. Louie offered to walk me to the subway so off we went. We ended up stopping in an alcove at yonge and wellesley and talking there until about 4 in the morning. He kept asking me why I was there and what I was doing on the street and why I talk to a piece of shit like him. I continued to try to tell him he wasn;t a piece of shit, that he was beautifully and wonderfully made. He wouldn't let up on asking me why I spent so much time on the street with the boys until finally I said something along the lines of "I think God has asked me to be here" and he was... astonished. We talked for a while about how God loves him, and he kept telling me things like "I'm a bad guy... you don't know.." and to make a looooooong conversation short, he had a conversion of sorts out on the street that night. At some point I brought up Jesus and he just went quiet.. and I told him a bit of my story, and at a certain point he just began saying " I believe you... I really believe what you're saying is true..." I should mention that this is hours later, and he had sobered up alot by this point. He then began pointing to the street lamp and talking about how he wanted to shine brighter than the light. I was really nervous throughout a lot of the conversation only because of his desperation. "This Jesus guy better be able to help me out because im f-ing sick of this", or he would look up with a growl-esque (is that a word?) look on his face as if to challenge God to a fight, and say something like "you think you can help me out? well, lets see... bring it on big guy"... So I just prayed and prayed that God would show up in power and glory and overwhelm his spirit. It was a very long and beautiful and difficult conversation to try to write out and sum up. But it was absolutely astonishing to me. The spirit was moving in remarkable ways. He prayed a simple and beautiful prayer, asking Jesus to help him out... that he was sick of the life he was leading and wanted a way out.

The story continues... but it is close to midnight and I have to be in the park early tomorrow morning. stay tuned... dun dun dun

Last night was a hard night, and to explain I'll have to start from back a few weeks ago, and tell the story of L. L. is the reason I was MIA for a few weeks, as he was consuming much of my time and I wasn't making it off the streets till the wee hours of the morning for a while.

I guess this all starts back at the OCAP rally. I went to this campout thinking it was just a barbeque and a night in the park for folks who have been affected by the recent closures of more shelter beds and more detox beds, and the crazy lack of affordable housing in the city.

If there was more time

Oh the things I wish I could record on here, and oh the things I wish I would write about if I had the time or emotional capacity. I'd write about how street ministry has totally messed up my theology - how I find it nearly impossible to fathom someone beyond redemption. I want to write about how I think that the street community is more like the early church than we are. How I know I'm safe on the streets, why I don't believe in bad guys, and why I keep letting my heart get broken again and again because I refuse to not get my hopes up...

There is a reason I haven't updated this in so long, but I finally have a morning off, so buckle up, theres a lot to catch up on. Firstly, I'm exhausted... I haven't had a morning off like I do today in a few weeks now... I'm going to try to get home as early as possible tonight so I can rest then as well.

It seems that a new wind has blown in onto the streets recently, and a bunch of people are making incredible steps towards health. The Inuit man who does the beautiful soap stone carvings is 2 weeks sober, selling artwork to shops in yorkville, and looking ten years younger than I've ever seen him. My buddy W got picked up and is in jail, and although it always sucks when someone gets picked up, he needs this opportunity to get clean. The man G. that I've mentioned often is up north at treatment, though it was many a fiasco to get him there. He's there, sober, and doing well. I've heard more talk from people about straightening out in the last 2 weeks then I have in months, and not just talk - there is action.

Part of the ordeal that was getting G on the bus to treatment was the using and drinking he did in the days leading up to his starting day. Last thursday ... no the thursday before, drop-in had just ended and the staff were debriefing when we heard frantic frantic ringing of the doorbell, which is not an uncommon thing at Sanctuary. The door was opened and Steve ran in "G. is having a seizure outside." Doug walked over and phoned 911. Seizure's are a strange phenomenon at Sanctuary. There are many both real and fake, and of the fake there are both conscious and unconscious. I ran outside to the park beside Sanctuary where G was, and had no idea which this was. Earlier in the night he had been sprawled on the ground in front of Sanctuary yelling at anyone who would listen about his childhood abuse, and accusing people of making fun of him for it when they tried to help. He has a strange capacity to call us at Sanctuary sisters and brothers one minute, then all sorts of obscenities the next, insisting that we think of him as 'a project' when the furthest is true. Anyways, he was rocking back and froth and shaking, and he'd snap out of it every few seconds and try to get up or walk a few steps only to fall down again, repeating 'I need a toke, I need a toke', a toke being a hit of crack. The park beside Sanctuary gets a lot of traffic from street folk, so withing the few minutes before the ambulance was there, G. had attracted a small crowd, including a young native guy, F. When the ambulance came and were trying to get him to come with them and to put him on the cart, F. broke down and insisted that they needed to take him to detox. 'I just can't get sober' he repeated between sorrowful pleas. Of course, the ambulance had to decline. I tried calling to get him a bed, but the city has closed so many detoxes I knew it would be a long shot - there of course, were no beds. G. got taken away in the ambulance and F. started lamenting about how he was going to kill himself. Immediately a couple of street brothers circled him, repeating statements like "pull the fuck up". The pressure to toughen up in these situations is so intense. I went over to talk to him about his desire to kill himself and they got mad at me, saying that F. just needed to pull up and shut up.

Speaking of fake seizures, one was had this past Thursday. We endearingly (well, sometimes) call a group of people who come to Sanctuary "The Family". They are a group of people who are in housing, and all weaved into strange and ever-changing familial relationships. A couple on the fringes of the family was arrested as they walked through the park on Thursday and a great big man, G. fell to his knees and started shaking. Its a strange thing to deal with when you know someone is 'faking' a seizure. I knew his anger and feelings of lack of control were legitimate, but I didn't want to legitimize and affirm his contrived physical response. I tried talking to him telling him to take deep breaths, and his girlfriend asked me to help move him to the lawn. Well he wouldn't let us budge him... a sure sign that he wasn't actually physically seizure-ing. Finally a nurse came out and got him to stand up and walk inside with her.

Anyways - back to positive steps. Sanctuary owns a house called "Lucas House" where 4 men who've previously lived on the streets learn to live indoors and in community. We've recently gained possession of another house, and though it doesn't have a name, it already has 2 people who are confirmed to move in on Friday. One of them is a good friend, Steve. He is... ACK this post is to be continued.,.... gotta get to work

Back at it

So after a great week of relaxation, I'm back at Sanctuary, and back on the streets.

A beloved woman from our community, and the mother of a great great friend of mine died last week. Her name was Patty Wink and we had a memorial for her at Sanctuary on Wednesday. Many people both from the streets and not had only wonderful things to say about her... she will be missed.

Last night was a stressful drop-in. I found out from two women who I'm fairly close with who are both on the street that they are pregnant - within a few minutes of each other. I think that it is so important to celebrate all life so of course I congratulated them and tried to get excited with them - though I am well aware that pregnancy on the street is rarely intentional and seldom welcomed. For one of the women it's her 9th child, and for one it's her fourth. It's so tough. I cannot imagine the stress of pregnancy when you're addicted and in a ridiculously codependent relationship, never mind the fact that you're sleeping on the sidewalks of Toronto at night. I know that the kids will be taken by CAS and that breaks my heart as well, not that I would support a mother keeping her child when she is in the midst of an addiction and life on the street. What is hopeful however, is that pregnancy is one of the only and most common way that women on the street get and stay straight and clean. It still doesn't happen much or often at all, but pregnancy can be a huge motivating factor for a woman to reexamine her life and ask for help. I hope and pray that these women might consider their babies as big enough motivators to take some healthy positive steps. Hopefully their violent and abusive boyfriends won't sabotage them if they do - there are so many obstacles.

There is a man, R. who i've known for a few years who is known for panning outside of the Tims north of yonge and bloor. R. is a great old guy with a heck of a lot of character. He got a visitor tag somewhere and has been wearing it on a lanyard around his neck for months - which is hilarious. Whenever I ask him why he's a visitor or where he's visiting he just chuckles and says somehting like "oh you know..." He's from the older generation on the street who drink and drink and drink, but aren't into crack or heroin or any of the other dangerous drugs that a lot of the younger people (i mean in their 30s and 40s) are more generally into. Some of the older guys, and many native people I know take a sort of pride in the fact that they're just drinkers. But oh, do they drink. Yesterday R. was sitting on the bench in the park drinking a bottle of listerine. It is not uncommon AT ALL for alcoholics on the street to drink mouthwash, amongst other things. They drink 'rub' which is rubbing alcohol, I've seem a friend drinking cologne, even heard of a group of guys who were drinking watered down hairspray. They get so sick... poisoned. Listerine is the most common though, people drink bottles of it day after day after day. So R. was drinking Listerine and was in worse shape then I've ever seen him - he'd wet himself and was falling all over the place - it is so hard to see friends killing themselves. If anyone doubts the power or existence of addiction they need only spend some time in the park outside of Sanctuary. No one grows up dreaming of spending their days on the sidewalk drinking mouthwash everyday until they collapse. Sometimes it's hard to keep hoping for something better for these guys - when it has been their routine day in and day out for year and years - decades even. Hope is exhausting sometimes... because I know that it takes work.. and nothing short of a miracle for some of these guys before they know even a tiny tiny bit that they are loved, precious, fearfully and wonderfully made. I think of people who walk by my friends and spit on them or throw garbage at them, and how it might be difficult to convince one of these passers-by that the 'thing' they are spitting on is really something - no someone - to be absolutely treasured, adored, delighted in, loved, valued, prized. That is the truth though, and the way God feels about them. It would probably take work to convince a stranger of that... times that by about a hundred for how difficult it is to help someone see it in themselves. It is easy to believe you're garbage because then you can go on treating yourself and acting like garbage, but to let yourself believe that you are a temple in which God resides... that's hard.

Speaking of hope - there is a GREAT book everyone MUST read called "Bent Hope" by Tim Huff. Go read it riiiiight now.

And usually when I'm at the point where I'm ready to throw in the towel because there is so little tangible 'success' in street ministry, something happens that keeps me hoping. Last night a man who I've gotten to love and adore over the last 8 or 9 months came to drop in pretty messed up, as usual. We've talked alotttt about his addictions to crack and alcohol... how he equates them to an abusive lover that he just cant get enough of and can't get away from. He was talking to me yesterday about all the money he's wasted and I made some dumb offhand comment about how many kids he could have fed in africa by now - I don't know why, it just sort of slipped out, then I reliazed that it was probably a pretty dumb thing to say, but he just sort of sat there. He had been talking about all of the things HE could have had - a car, a place, nice clothes, etc. and I mentioned the thing about the kids and he just paused... and it was cool because he sort of explained how getting a car, place, etc. would never motivate him to stop using because those were things for him, and he didn't think he deserved them anyways, but that if he could do a 'god thing' with the money then it might be worth it. I'm glad my comment slipped out when it did. Anyways, he spent some time talking to other staff during the drop-in and at some point decided that eh wanted to go to Ottawa to get straight and sober. He has some family out there. So he talked with some of the staff about having a plan and stuff and they got him into a detox in Ottawa. When someone commits to taking a positivev step its a pretty big deal and we take it seriously. So last night after drop in at about 11pm myself and Steve drove him to detox in Ottawa. It was great having those hours with him in the car where he felt safe to share more of his story and his fears. Whether he really absorbed any of what we were telling him or not, he will remember that we were willing to drive him there in the middle of the night - and he realized that it was because we genuinely love and care for him, and it was really cool to see him actually let himself believe that. Oh I pray pray pray pray pray that this will work out for him.

Beauty and Pain

So a beautiful thing happened on Tuesday. A woman I have gotten to know and love over the years, L. has been on the street for a while. Her and her boyfriend always stay outside, she's loved by many at Sanctuary and knows she can come in and stash her stuff wherever, have a shower, grab a nap on the couches, etc... she just feels really at home. She's a major tomboy, well theres not really a choice when you're on the street, and she doesn't want to be mistaken for 'that' kind of girl. Apparently her and her boyfriend know the property manager for the 2nd cup plaza down the street from Sanctuary. I saw her and some guy unloading trays of flowers from his van on Tuesday... I went back in a few minutes to see what was going on. He's decided to give her a chance - he's put her on payroll for the summer and it's her job to plant and maintain the flowers in the big garden pots in the front and in the back of the plaza. It was really really beautiful to see her being creative, gentle, and feeling then purposeful and accomplished. I visited her throughout the afternoon as she made her way through the different pots she was arranging. She would ferociously dig out all the weeds, then very carefully and gently arrange and plant the new young flowers. She commented that people often call her a crackhead... and look what she was doing now. It's so true... even 'crackheads' are capable of creating restoration and beauty... the whole experience really opened her up as she shared about her family and her life in ways I'd never heard her talk about. I thank God the property manager had the heart to give her a chance like that - what a wonderful opportunity for her. And oh is she proud of all her work... Greg was doing announcements on Wednesday before lunch at the drop-in and was like "oh yeah and L. got a job planting flowers outside the 2nd cup and everyone needs to go admire them". She blushed and just kind of stared at him... as if to wonder how he could think her work was really worth admiring. It was really beautiful... she was out watering them and planting more today when I went by. It's perfect. If you go by the 2nd cup on Yonge and Charles remember to admire them.

Yesterday at drop-in I had one of those I-am-so-incapable moments. I was sitting playing crazy eights with a a wonderful old couple when a man who doesn't speak much english but welcomes me warmly with a "hey nice to see you how are you" every week passed me a business card. I've tried talking to this man before but it just kind of turned into me guessing when i should nod or sign or mmhm because he is realy so difficult to understand. The card had on it something like "Canadian Support for Torture Victims".. I just sort of looked at him inquisitively and he stared at me and his eyes started to water... and he made a sign like someone slicing his throat and said his wife and sister were murdered. He said that in his country they were all tortured for a long time and then he was let go. And then he went silent and cried. No amount of training can really benefit you in those moments, because there is absolutely nothing I could have said that would make his pain any more bearable. So I just put my hand on his back. That was it. I couldn't even say that I was sorry... that seemed so insufficient. I just sat there with my hand on his shoulder while her cried... this man has got to be in his late 40's. When these moments happen I wonder why, or rather, HOW it is that I seem to be the one that people can confide in. And I don;'t mean to say that to boast, I mention it becuase it breaks my heart... that there isn't someone else who they can tell but the 20 year old girl who works at the drop-in center. This man has been through more pain and loss than I can even fathom... he's a hero for enduring it and continuing to smile. Yet he's gotten lost somewhere... I don't know. Eventually the couple was yelling at me that it was my turn at crazy eights and they were sick of waiting... so the man told me to go play. And that was that.

Todayy

I've realized that if I don't update this obnoxiously often I will miss telling heaps of stories of what is going on on the streets. I'll try to retell the most touching stories of the last weeks as I go.
Today I helped move a guy from one room in his building to another. He's an inuit man who grew up wayyyy up north. When he gets really drunk he cracks out the native throat-singing he learned from his grandparents as a kid... its hauntingly beautiful, though always a little strange because of his timing when he is drunk. Months ago he spent the better part of a Thursday night drop-in sitting at a table whooting humming and howling songs he'd learned way back when in his native tongue. Last thursday he had been drinking and i went over to say hey and he started crying and crying and let me glimpse into some of the pain hes suffered in his life... including two ex-wives, one who was murdered and one who died of breast cancer a little over a year ago. Its moments like that that are so difficult, because as much as it has become a sort of cliche catch phrase among street outreach workers, all that you can really offer in that moment is your prescence.. to "just be" with someone. So I looked into his eyes longingly, knowing that anything I tried to do or say to offer comfort would be completely insufficient, and to think otherwise would be to not affirm his overwhelming pain. So i just looked into his wet eyes and couldnt help but shed a few tears myself... my mind trying to figure out how it was that I am the person he can confide in...and then he began to hum deep in his throat and started slowly to murmur and asked me to sing along with him... i was unbelievably embarassed because i knew people could see and were listening... but I as well as i could tried to copy his whoots and deep murmurs.... it was all that I had to offer in that moment and for some reason it was exactly what I knew he wanted from me... just someone to mourn with him... to sing a dirge of sorts... this man can make incredibly artwork. He's been working at the shop recently making figures out of soap stone... he's a rare talent.. the stuff he is producing is magnificent.
Anyways, he often has G. at his place, and apparently the building has gotten alot of complains about them so they made him move out of his room down two floors to the basement. So today we went and moved him, it was fun... though I'm constantly reminded of how housing is not the answer to the "problem of homelessness". Homes are the answer... and the shitholes that people who can't make it the way society says they should are put in... they arent close to homes. I can't imagine what living in one of those buildings would do to my psyche or self-esteem... I wonder how much my creativity and drive would be stifled, and if I would grow to believe that I was the type of person who deserved to be living in filth. I looked out the window in his new room, and the window hits street level of an alleyway... and it was littered with garbage, needles, glass, a used tampon applicator, condoms, etc. Imagine looking out your window everyday to that... what that would do to your view of your own worth.

After moving S. Doug and I did outreach for a few hours... did groceries for a man in a wheelchair who can't make it to the store. We tried to help a frantic lost, disheveled looking woman find her husband...though we never did... she just sort of lost hope and wandered away after a while. We ran into a few old friends along the streets, but the majority of todays and tonights outreach was uneventful. When we got back to the church there were some people chilling int he park who told us that G, the man from friday night, and numerous other things I've posted about on here, was arrested for threatening someone with an exacto knife. We knew it might happen soon, since his drunken rages ave become more and more aggressive. However, at the end of the night as I was walking towards the subway I saw him panning outside the McDonalds... he was pretty pissed off but we had a good conversations.. he told me I was his little sister, and that sometimes he just wanted to be held when he was hurting... among other things. Don't we all...

Ignorance

I have a sticky note on my computer... listing off a number of people and stories from last week that I feel the need to write about. I also have thoughts from things that have gone on this past week that I want to write about. I get home at the end of the day emotionally exhausted though, and re-living some of the situations isn't much appealing. So there are a lot of things I need to write about from over the past week and a bit, but something happened today that I need to vent about first, because it absolutely infuriated me.

I've written a bit about a man who is on the edge.. on the verge of either disaster or incredible growth... but is trapped in a cycle of addiction, self-pity, co-dependency, etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. I have on my little sticky note from last week that I wanted to write about a certain situation with him... honestly, so much goes on that I can't remember the exact conversation or context I was referring to. Oh wait! perhaps I do. Last Thursday... oh theres way to much to explain. Tomorrow I have the day off and will write about a bunch of things that have happened. This guy is dearly dearly beloved by all of the staff at Sanctuary, and I've been witnessing their ups and downs reflecting his, as he again and again gets drunk and angry and does and says extremily hurtful things, then wallows in pity, frustrated and angry at himself for hurting people he loves. He was horrifically abused as a child, and believes he is shit. He believes he's worth nothing at all... that he doesn't deserve love, and frankly, he finds being loved by people at Sanctuary uncomfortable and doesn't really know how to handle the way he feels. He is precious. I went outside tonight cause a woman, L, has said she wanted to talk to me and as I went to find her in the park, this man asked if I'd come talk to him after. When I went over I sat down he began just by saying he had missed me and whatnot. A cop car pulled up and asked if he'd been causing trouble, apparently someone had called the cops. Whether or not he had, he was subdued at this point, so they left after a while.
What happened next just made me want to punch someone out, which is a rare thing for an adamant pacifist.
A woman came out of the church, someone I hadn't seen before aside from a brief hello earlier in the evening. She came over to the bench we were sitting at and asked if I worked at the church. I responded with my usual 'I hang out there' and she went into a passionate monologue about how I need to teach "people like him" respect, and keep him "under control". I was kind of taken aback at first, and kept very calm throughout our entire interaction. I guess she had seen him earlier yelling at someone on the other end of the pay phone in the park, and just generally being aggressive. G. wasn't totally smashed, but he certainly wasn't sober. I don't deny that he was probably being quite disruptive, but this woman was being incredibly rude. She did not address G. until about 20mins into the conversation when I was bawling and incapable of responding. She was asking me things like 'how can you sit with this thing?' and so on. Sitting beside a lot of other people, it would have stung and I would have been angry, but because it was this person in particular, I lost it. The fact is, we are working so so so so so so hard trying to help G. understand that he is precious. For this woman to come along and dehumanize him and call him evil, and imply that eh was unworthy of being loved just shattered me. All that he ever has been told is that he is a piece of shit, and he can be told a million times that he is a child of God, infinately valuable to him, and he will still have trouble believing it. She has no idea that he has recently talked of being beyond suicidal. She has no idea the abuse he has suffered in his life. All that she could focus on was that he was "disrespectful" and needed to be scolded, reprimanded, and trained to behave. "If you can train a dog - If you can train a monkey - to BEHAVE, then certainly you can train this THING."... you can imagine how utterly frustrated I was with this woman - I was constantly interjecting reminding her that she was speaking about my friend - a child of God - as a thing - as sub-human. She went on about how she was studying law... something about all of the great schools she'd been to and how much she knew. I tried very hard to affirm her understanding of his behavior as wrong, while trying to explain that his behavior was not grounds to reject him... that Jesus loved him enough to die for him, and that that was why I loved him enough to sit with him even in light of his sin. She continued on - and on - and on - on a number of occasions I asked her to leave, because nothing was being resolved and she was not wanting to hear anything I had to say, she just wanted to make G know that he was evil. At certain points G. was getting really mad at her - more so for making me so upset, not as much as what she was saying about him. At one point I even pulled her aside away from G. who was just spewing out insults at her, and told her that I knew as well as she did that some of the things G. does are wrong, and that he knows that as well, but that the way she was going about trying to "correct" him wasn't working and that maybe she should try respecting him if she was going to demand it from him. She wouldn't have any of it. She went on about how if we were in a spiritual war she would win because she's been a Christian for 20 years and was a pastor... and I sighed heavily and exhaustedly responded "were on the same side!" She went on about how much shes studied theology and I told her that it was great... honestly... i tried SO hard to affirm her. But i told her that I just could not agree with her that my beautiful precious and incredibly broken friend needed to be treated like an animal, judged, and rejected by her because of his behavior. Other folks from the street were around, listening in and out throughout portions of our conversation that I think lasted close to an hour... also parts of it got kind of loud. She scolded me for crying... saying some very mean things about what do I ever expect to do for God if all I can do is cry. After more similar arguments I responded that G. is exactly the kind of guy Jesus hung out with, and she yelled that he was evil... and that I was evil for sitting there and supporting him... and I asked back if forgiveness was a sin...
I was so mad... fuming after this all happened... and G. just pulled me in and gave me a big hug... I was obviously much more hurt by the situation then he was. Some other folks from the street came by and were like... aw people say stuff like that to us all the time. I know that that is true... but just... why this certain person, at this certain time, and from a Christian of all people. When he is just so close to perhaps allowing himself to be cracked open enough to experience a fraction of God's grace and love. I was so so so angry and sad....

A bunch more things happened today that I want to write about... but I am in need of sleep and will save them for my big catch up writing sesh tomorrow.

Pray for G, and pray for the woman.

People's pain

Tonight was tough. I found myself stop on my walk home and just realize that there are a whole lot of situations that I just cannot or will not let myself think about. The stories of some of the people in our community are unbelievably... horrific. Stories of unthinkable childhood abuse... stories of addictions, abandonment, violence... survival. I hear the facts when people tell me things about their lives... or when I see things going on... but rarely do I ever allow myself to hurt for them anymore. It is just way too painful. And I need to catch myself. I know that if I let every story of everyones abuse really sink in that I would be incapable of functioning, (and I wonder how God manages) but I also don't want to just be so hard that I can hear about D. being raped "again last night", and not hurt deeply for her. I know that I want to get really really really angry about it, but I know that won't help either. It won't help me or her. I don't even feel capable of praying for her... or anyone else who shared really difficult crap tonight, because then it becomes very real, and then I have to try to reconcile the things that are happening in the lives of my friends with my understanding of and relationship with a loving God.

Outreach Experiences

Well...
A few interesting things happened during outreach tonight. Saw G... drunk... he mooned Doug and I and then kicked a huge dent in a car that was turning at the intersection we were at... I forget what it was that he was trying to prove. We walked away from him because he was dishing out his usual insults that Sanctuary wants to control everyone on the street and that we see him as an f-ing project.. etc. etc. We went around the block cause we knew our friend C. was down the street. G. met us int he alley and continues to yell at Doug while I met with C. and a bunch of other street folks who congregated while I was there. I handed out socks and water and we chatted about what was goin on - Doug and G. eventually joined us and we went on our way. I found out later from a couple I ran into as I was heading to the subway that G. and a friend who had come up as I was chilling with C. got into a big fight. I think he was just looking for someone to punch... and for someone to punish him the way he believes he deserves to be.

We ran into a lot of people we know tonight... but nothing way out of the ordinary went down... just short conversations and updates on life over socks and water. We did get a free show from a kid who couldn't be more than 17-18 who walked on his hands on the road and sidewalk for us... then told us about the horrors of the last shelter he was at.. and how much he hates CAS because they wont help him out financially unless he gets a fixed address... right now he's living on the streets.

Last week we met a man on outreach who absolutely broke my heart. He was panning just north of Bloor on Yonge street and we asked him if he could go for a pair of socks or some water. He started telling us about how he used to own a house in Montreal but then his wife and two kids were killed in a car crash 6 months ago and he cant find a reason to live. He burst out into tears on the side of the busy street and I didn't know what else to do than just hug him and listen. He spoke of heartbreak and suicide attempts. His daughter was a lawyer, and engaged. He'd just come to Toronto from Montreal and had no where to go. Heartbreaking. I tried to encourage him that there really were reasons to keep living, though I was racking my brains trying to think of one that wold suffice. What can you tell a man who is pouring out his soul to a complete stranger? All I felt I could do was hold his arm and give him a hug. And then after a few moments we had to walk away. We told him about our services, offered our prayers.. but none of it really seemed like it could do anything for this man who was just.... in such anguish.

I saw A. a lot last week, an older native man confined to a wheelchair who, thanks to the dedication and friendship of folks at Sanctuary now has housing and a trustee to help him manage his ODSP check. We did groceries for him last week among other things. His sister just got out of jail and is back turning tricks and deals in his room... which is hard to see cause it makes his life less manageable and more chaotic for him... but she did clean the place up, and offers company... its a bittersweet situation.

I saw the woman who threatened me at the end of outreach today... I just saw her form across the street. She was panning in front of the strip club near the church. I really want to talk to her, but she was very obviously drunk, so Doug went to say hey and I headed back to the church... her boyfriend was on the bench in the park near Sanctuary asking for prayer.

Tomorrow is the monthly homeless memorial... always hard.

First day of internship~

Well... my first "official" day of interning at Sanctuary was quite intense. Last year my first official day was unbearably so, marked by the passing of California. This year, yesterday was intense for very different reasons.

Yesterday morning, Alan and I went to work on continuing to clean up our friend D's place. We started last week after finding out that he had apparently been hoarding a lot of stuff and was feeling really overwhelmed seeing the mess that had accumulated over the last few years, or however long it had been since his apartment had been cleaned out. Last Thursday there were 5 of us in his teeny weeny apartment for a few hours and the way we left it was how I had imagined it would look when we went to see it. I don't think he had thrown anything out in a long time.. and there was anything imaginable... just everywhere. I did dishes for three hours and didn't get through half of them. So yesterday we went back for a few hours and made a lot of progress which was great for D. Now you can actually see the floor and see the bed and see the table etc. whereas before you just kind of knew they were there. For D, someone with anxiety and social issues, I can only imagine what having such a disastrous and chaotic living space was doing to perpetuate his mental health issues. I am so glad we were able to go in and help him with sorting out his living space and getting rid of a lot of the junk he's been storing up. I feel like having a somewhat orderly place to live will help him in so many ways... I'm really glad to have been able to help him out in that way, because I can only imagine how incredibly overwhelming it must have been for him.

After cleaning I caught up with Patrick's school group and hung out for their debrief. It is interesting to note the types of questions high schoolers ask when faced with the realities of the streets.

Last night at drop-in an old friend came by for the first time in months and months. It was so great to see him and get caught up. He shared with me how he got a job and got a place and how things are going well for him. I am so excited he is doing well, he is a dearly beloved friend. He also shared, however, that he's fallen back into smoking crack and that he is worried about it. I hate crack. I hate it so much because I've seen the devastation it's caused in so many of my friends lives. I hope and pray that my friend doesn't continue using, because it won't be long before all the progress he's made is lost to the drug. This is someone I want to be at my wedding, and to be an uncle to my children. The friends I talk about at Sanctuary are real friends... I don't just call them that because it's conducive to the image of community we try to achieve.

The real intense part of my day yesterday, though, didn't happen until after drop-in was over. During staff debrief we talked about a number of issues including the various stories various people had been told by a particular community member. This person, it should be noted, has a history of violence. He did time for his part in the murder of his gay lovers father, a story he retells as if it were a badge; the murder being evidence of the deep and unquenchable love they had. He is now involved with another man and in the same sort of infatuated love where all rationality comes second to the deep bond the two share. This lover, however, has a wife. Yesterday S. spoke with many different people, telling them all different stories about his feelings, and a gun he has acquired, and what he intends to do. To no one did he outright say that he was intent on killing her, but in staff debrief last night we pieced together the trails he had left everyone and it became evident that this man might have been hinting at this. We discussed all sorts of questions: whether to involve the police, whether to go the psych route and get him taken, what to do with the gun if we did get it from him: turn it in and face questions, or destroy it and potentially destroy evidence... there was/is just so much that complicates the situation. We desired above everything to place the safety of S. and the woman above everything, and also did not want to fracture our relationships and trust with S. We ended up splitting into teams: A group to go confront him and try to talk to him, a group to wait in a car nearby, and my group: a group to stay at the church and pray. They ended up finding him and taking him out for coffee, and they apparently made a lot of progress with him, saying he was lucid, sober, and in a good head space. So last night ended well. I am incredibly blessed to work with the people that I do at Sanctuary and last night was evidence of that fact. In everything they try to work for the betterment of the community, and keep calm, rational, and loving in times of crisis. I continue to learn so much form them.

Well, my official start date for my internship is tomorrow (May 1st), but I've been there everyday since I finished exams. Cheques came out on Monday so things have been quiet this past week. The streets were practically empty on Monday and Tuesday, and drop-in today was peaceful. Last Thursday was a different story. A good friend, GS. was really drunk and hurting, out in the park yelling about the abuse he experienced as a child, and trying to initiate fights people sidewalk passersby. There is a real battle going on inside of him, and as a friend commented, the outcome will either be miraculous or devastating. GS. is going to choose one path or the other, and I pray he chooses the narrow one. I had a chat over some fries with him on Tuesday, and he articulated his Jeckyl/Hyde predicament with immense clarity. He keeps fluctuating between being a wonderful beautiful man struggling with his faith and his past, and a wonderful beautiful man who is drunk and angry and wants to fight. Both sides of his personality are beautiful valuable people, but in my opinion, only one is his true self.

Among the few people that were out on the street on Tuesday was a woman on the corner of sherbourne and gerrard shivering wearing shorts and flip flops, crouched down and wrapped extensively in yellow caution tape. Her hair looked like it was glued to her head and face and she was crouched and mumbling. People with Psych issues are absolutely without a doubt the most difficult reality for me to face on the street. Doug leaned over and asked how she was and if she wanted some sock or water. She responded with an F- you and threw her cigarette in his face and spat on him. My heart hurts for her… honestly the only thing I think anyone can do for her is pray.

Drop-in Drama

So it feels like summer again! It is definitely very difficult to study when the weather is so nice. I have three more exams and then I am off for the summer. If there is one thing I regret from last summer it is that I didn't keep a very good journal, and there is so much I wish I had written about... so many things happened, so many lessons were learned. I intend on being much more diligent this summer with recording my thoughts and adventures.

I am back at Sanctuary this summer, and am itching to start. It seems that I haven't been able to escape having a rocky start to this year's summer. This past Thursday night a woman i love was very drunk and came into drop-in looking for me. When she found me she started yelling and threatening to beat me up telling me to stay away from her man. I am also good friends with her boyfriend, but she obviously suspected that there was more going on there. It was frightening having her up in my face with her fist in the air telling me she was going to f-ing kill me. Apparently she had been looking for me since before Tuesday, when she was asking where I was. I know that it was just the drugs and alcohol talking, but it kind of shook me up a bit. My heart hurts for her. Years of abuse and neglect have rendered her incapable of believing she is worth sticking around for. She gets absolutely possessive and jealous of anyone she is with, as if she refuses to believe anyone could just love her and want to be with her without her having to convince them to stay. Having to face the realities of abandonment issues comes hard on the streets, and unfortunately I have somehow ended up in the mix. The staff got her outside but about half an hour later she came back in looking for me. Some guys stood in front of me and I hid sheepishly on the ground behind the garbage can as she wailed about what I had done to her. The entire room went silent as she absolutely broke down. I can't help but feel guilty for what I haven't done... but she had it in her head that I was trying to steal her boyfriend from her and I can just imagine how betrayed that must have made her feel.

I had, until this point managed to entirely stay out of the mix when it comes to violence that goes on within the community. I have often been a witness to threats and violence, but never really thought that I would offend anyone to the point of being dragged in.... Greg took me aside later that night to see how I was and shared that he has received his fair share of threats. I guess it was inevitably going to happen at some point.

Once outside again the staff rotated throughout the night going out to bring her food and calm her down. At debrief they advised that for the next little while, until we resolve the issue that I shouldn't walk alone on the streets but rather call and get someone to walk with me to and from the subway to Sanctuary. I feel as thought I've lost my (perhaps) false sense of safety on the streets. A huge part of what I do downtown is walking around and hanging out in parks and stuff... just being with people. I hope that I can resolve things with this woman before the summer so that I don't have to worry about being out on the streets alone.

A beautiful thing happened the same night after drop-in. Another woman from the community, L, is turning 28 on Sunday so on Thursday nignt the staff decided to take her out for her birthday after drop-in. She decided she'd rather go buy cake from Rabba and sit and eat it in the park. It was wonderful. We set out some blankets and lit the cake on the park bench and sat around just hanging out and celebrating with L and her boyfriend. I am so glad that I could be a part of something so simple and yet so perfect. It was a wonderful witness to, amongst other things, how love, to be great, does not need to be extravagant. Sitting on the ground in the dimly lit park eating cake from Rabba, there was no where I would rather have been.

Later that night Simon and I helped some friends move who had been evicted. We drove to their place, loaded up the van and then brought it to a friends place they are staying at for now. I hope that the new place works out for them, they've been shifted around quite a bit lately and it's a stress that they don't need in their lives right now.

I need to study for exams!!! :)