Learning from the Less Fortunate

I’m surprisingly content at the moment. I’ve had a rather busy week, barely finished my poster project that was due today, and I’m exhausted after a long day. But God is good, and I feel blessed to know Him tonight. I tagged along with a group of C&Cers tonight as we served at the Mustard Seed, and while it was anything but an organized affair, it’s such a pleasure to sit down and talk with a group of people who come from such brutal situations, but are so thankful and honest. Some of my most treasured conversations in life have been with homeless people. I once talked with a man on the LRT the entire train line about his alcoholism and blindness, and was struck simultaneously by his heartbreaking life, and his strong sense of curiousity and awe at everything around him. My very favourite Our Voice vendor on Whyte Ave dressed up as Santa Claus one year and handed out Hershey’s kisses to the passersby who had so much more than he. It was such a beautiful image, one that echoed of Jesus’ selfless love; this man gave when it was us who should have been giving to him. One of my best customers at the café is Mike, a wonderful fellow without a home who barely scrapes by. Most days, Mike brings the change that he has begged for into the café and we happily exchange his coins for five-dollar bills. But instead of keeping the leftover change, Mike always contributes it to our tip jar. Here is a man who barely has enough to get a hot dog from 7-11 for lunch, and wears completely destroyed shoes, and yet he loves us girls and cares as much about us as we do for him. Mike has given me so much more than his extra change; he’s given me a picture of true selflessness and immaterialism.


There is so much to learn from the impoverished men and women in our city, and any opportunity to interact with this oft-misunderstood group of people should be cherished. Yes, a lot of people in poverty have issues with drugs. Yes, many homeless people rifle through garbage cans and pester people for money. Yes, many of the poor are in that position because they struggle to hold down jobs or find work. But God never asked us to love people who were drug-free, kept to themselves, and were motivated members of society, and Jesus didn’t qualify his instructions to the rich man to sell all he had and give it away. God just wants us to love, and Jesus just instructed the man to give his belongings away. In a certain way, that’s incredibly empowering. Not to say that giving the boisterous man on the corner of 109th is the solution to poverty, but listening to these people’s stories, sharing the cookie you just got at Subway, or offering some bit of encouragement goes a long way. It’s late, and Jess is away for the weekend, and I’m feeling delirious, but those are the thoughts I felt like getting out at 2:30 AM. On a completely unrelated tangent, I've burned the Christmas CDs and they're now free for the taking. If I've already given you yours, I hope it's getting you into a wintry mood! In conclusion, this makes me happy.

Music I'm Loving

• Nouvelle Vague
• Kings of Convenience
• Mogwai
• Ray LaMontagne
• As Tall as Lions
• Andrew Bird
• Jon Brion
  
• anything Christmas-y

Places I'm Loving

• Steeps (preferably with friends)
• the snow path in Corbett Field
• my ABC Head Start classroom (the kids are sooo great)
  
• Mustard Seed
• my bed, under the covers
• the Psychology entrance to Bio Sci
• the rocking chair in the living room by the window

People I'm Missing this Weekend

• Jess (having a blast at Camp Caroline)
• C&Cers who I'll miss on Saturday
  
• Colleen and Kristin from work
• Bethany

P.S. You'd all better be watching the Grey Cup on Sunday. It's a wonderful excuse to eat loads of food, mock Don Matthews, scream loudly, and hang out with friends and family. I'd really wanted to have friends over for a party this year, but choir is practicing at 4:00 this Sunday due to the youth retreat, so the girls of the family will be catching the second half at my auntie and uncle's party. I'm super duper thrilled, especially because I know that the Als are going down. If you think that I scream loudly, you should hear my mom when the team we're cheering for scores a TD; her shrieking is renowned for both its amusing sound and remarkable loudness.

P.P.S. I nearly referred to Don Matthews as Dave Matthews. That's how out of it I am.

P.P.P.S. Exactly one month. Until my birthday.