How do people feel good about themselves when they feed the poor during the day and then go home at night to a comfy bed while the poor they've fed sleep out in the cold or in a crowded shelter?

I don't ask this question in judgment.  I don't even feed the poor, but if I did, if I saw their faces and knew their names.  If they told me their stories as we shared a meal.  How could I leave them?  How could I but invite them home with me?

Denying Power Pie but Taking Responsibility

April 24^th, 2013.  It seemed to shock the western world a bit that day when a factory collapsed, killing hundreds of workers.  Do you remember how you felt?

I guess that news wasn’t all that shocking to me.  I’ve known for a long time that workers across the world are treated poorly.  What happened in Bangladesh was just one incident, but one that caught the attention of the west.  It is not very often that we think about the people on the other side of our clothing.  It is not very often that was ask who grew the cotton, or who made the textiles, but we shouldn’t forget them.

Remember.
Remember the victims.
Remember their families.
Remember that there are many other factories still operating in oppressive or unsafe ways.

So, what do we do?
There seems to me to be four options.
1-forget
2-do something to appease our guilt
3-seek to do no harm
4-seek to do good

The easiest option is to forget.  Tell yourself that clothes grow in the store and that there is no one on the other side of them.  Please don't forget.

When we do something to appease our guilt we would maybe give money to a helpful organisation or stop buying things made in Bangladesh.  While those things are probably good and helpful, they allow us to feel like we are "doing our part," and then continue to live the rest of our lives unconcerned with the needs of others.  We might sponsor a child, and then support the company who underpays the child's parents working in a factory.  When we just seek to appease our guilt, we enable the system to keep functioning as it does.  We feel good because we are no longer buying clothing made in Bangladesh, but the clothes we buy are still made in oppressive factories in other countries.  We feel good, because we are "doing our part," but the reality is that we are doing just enough to allow oppressive systems to continue without feeling bad about ourselves.  “Our part” isn’t enough to make change.  Most people feel like they are doing their part, but there is still unfathomable suffering in this world.

Seek to do no harm.  This is my general approach, and yet, how often I fall short.  This approach has me saying that I don't want to participate in suffering perpetuating systems.  When I buy something I want to know that the production of it did not entail the suffering of others.  I have so much.  Right now I think the only thing i need to buy is food.  Most people in this world have two or three outfits, I don't need more clothes.  I have enough.  When I buy food I have to make choices and I try to make choices that cause no harm to others.  Doing that is fine, but it isn't doing good.  It is just a refusal to participate in evil.  It should be an obvious choice.  No one deserves praise for refusing to participate in evil systems.  The real question should be, how could we do otherwise?

Seek to do good.  Seek to make radical change.  Seek to create working conditions where the poor are given opportunities and their children can go to school.  Stand up for workers’ rights.  Investigate factories, make the conditions known to the public and create social pressure for the companies to change.  There is a problem with seeking to do good.  It is not easy.  It requires of us time, effort, energy and money.   If we really want to seek change, it will require our life.  Here is the other problem, we can't change everything.  But our inability must not be an excuse for changing nothing.  It has been suggested to me that I choose one problem and fight against it.

Here's my conclusion.  We mustn't be content "doing our part."  If we really care about those suffering, the least we can do it step out of systems that perpetuate the suffering, but if we really care, even that won't be enough.  Seeking to do no harm isn't a solution.  If we really care we will pour our lives into changing the systems.  Is it worth it?

Though sometimes it is easiest to be ignorant, information is available.  Check out these websites:

www.free2work.org

www.corpwatch.org

Tired of Eating More Than My Share of Power Pie. Can I Give My Oversized Peice Away?

I’m sick of power pie.  I’ve had more than my share.  Though my income is pretty small compared to those in Canada, in 2012 I made more money than 85% of the world’s population (now see here).  In our world systems, money is very closely connected to power, so is education.  I have a high school diploma.  I am almost done my undergrad.  I also have power just from being white and speaking English. 

I wonder if I’ve created God in my image.  I want him to be the sort that gives up his power because I want to give up mine.  I wanna be free from responsibility.  Every time I buy something I make a choice that is connected to the well-being of others.  With our economic systems that function efficiently with underpaid labourer, my purchasing power all too often buys into their games.  I don’t like it.  Power seems like a dirty thing to me and I don’t want any of it.  Thoughts like these make me want to leave Canada, sell all I have and move to Liberia and work as a casual labourer on a farm.  It’s tempting because it would take away my choices and leave me with very few remaining options.  It is tempting because I would no longer be an oppressor.

When Simba’s dad died, he asked uncle Scar what he should do.  “Run” Scar replied, “Run far away and never return.”  Simba ran.  He ran until he was exhausted, made new friends and began a new life of fun times and little responsibility.  He had no worries.  However, in his absence the Pride Land was oppressed by Scar and the hyenas.  There was poverty and mass starvation.  Somehow Nala found Simba and begged him to come back to the Pride Land and take up the responsibility he once had.  She is convinced he can make a difference, and he can.

Well, Lion King is far from perfect, but it challenges the way I think about running from power.  It does so happen that I have power, and perhaps I should us it for good.  But that sounds wrong.  I don’t want to justify a means for any end.  But maybe power isn’t as dirty as I make it sound.  It is quite possible that there are two (if not more) ways one can use their power.  Power can be used to control (and I want to stay far away from that), or it can be used to influence.  Rather than talking about the power I have, perhaps I should recognise and embrace my ability to influence others.  Anyhow, I am not sure yet.

I have power.  Is it wrong to use power for good?

I don't get it:

                                           *Photo by Kevin Carter

R.I.P Occuplaza, long live OCCUPY!

Every now and then I would hear about Occupy, but never really enough to fully understand it. My favourite way to learn about people is from the people themselves, so I had the desire to go down and talk with the people who were camping out. But, I kept putting it off. Then I read that the court had ordered them out by Friday at 2pm. I did not get down to the Occupy Camp until Thursday night. I took my tent and headed down. I thought that would be the best way to understand what was going on. I wasn’t sure what they stood for, but I believed that they had a right to say it, and that was enough to get me to go a support them.
I had no idea what would happen once I got there. I turned out that they had a plan in mind; plan of creative resistance, a plan to leave the plaza, but not without pointing out the injustice of their silencing. I met people I will never forget; people who have chosen community over comfort.
It was an honour to be a part of their last night at the Plaza, but counter to the media portrayal, this was not their last stand. Occupy lives on. There was such a community created at the camp that ridding the plaza of tents far from disbands the group. “The occupation was in-tents”, but it will continue even when the tents are gone. I believe that is party why the Occupiers could leave peacefully, and even before their eviction. They knew that it was far from the end, as one of the signs read: “ideas can’t be evicted”.
I had conversations with occupiers that I will never forget. One guy felt like history was just repeated itself, but it would not give us any better results this time around. He spoke about how things were rather similar in the Roman Empire. The Roman Empire got me thinking about Jesus. Would he be part of an Occupy Revolution?
Jesus brought his own kingdom, so he didn’t need to transform the one that existed. Rather he invited people to join his movement. But it was a movement that contains many of the values of the Occupy movement; the values of community, sharing, equality, and justice over the “Justice System”.
There were a couple of Jesus stories that came to mind over the night:
I was reminded of the creative resistance of which Jesus spoke in Matthew 5: “You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles. Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.” (to understand how this is creative resistance, it helps to understand the culture a bit better. This could help http://dustinfjames.wordpress.com/category/nonviolent-resistance/ I didn't fully read what was said on this site, but I think he's got the idea)
A conversation with a business man who couldn’t grasp the concept of Occupy made me think of the parable from Luke 12: “A man in a crowd said to Jesus, "Teacher, tell my brother to give me my share of what our father left us when he died."
Jesus answered, "Who gave me the right to settle arguments between you and your brother?"
Then he said to the crowd, "Don't be greedy! Owning a lot of things won't make your life safe."
So Jesus told them this story:
A rich man's farm produced a big crop, and he said to himself, "What can I do? I don't have a place large enough to store everything."
Later, he said, "Now I know what I'll do. I'll tear down my barns and build bigger ones, where I can store all my grain and other goods. Then I'll say to myself, `You have stored up enough good things to last for years to come. Live it up! Eat, drink, and enjoy yourself.' "
But God said to him, "You fool! Tonight you will die. Then who will get what you have stored up?"
"This is what happens to people who store up everything for themselves, but are poor in the sight of God."
And I thought about the teachings of John the Baptist “And he would answer and say to them, "The man who has two tunics is to share with him who has none; and he who has food is to do likewise."” And the other John “If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him?”
I am happy with what Occupy did. Their signs and the art left on the plaza speak their message loudly (though I would say it is being distorted by the media), and they are far from disappearing.

UGM - youth drop in

Solemnly they walked through the line. Some smiled, other wouldn’t make eye contact, but most said thanks. I offered them mixed peas and corn, but most rejected them, so there were many left when I went and found someone I knew with whom I could sit. The lighting was dim, and the atmosphere was mellow. Earlier they had told us that there were black lights in the bathroom so people could not find their veins and inject drugs, I could not get the image out of my mind. I found myself in a conversation with a youth I didn’t know, and as was best, she did most of the talking. She was homeless. She had been kicked out of one shelter, not allowed in another, and the rest were forbidden to her for she was only fifteen; only fifteen yet homeless. Something from deep within me burned against this injustice. I felt utterly useless, and angry that there was nothing I could do to help this girl, this child. I wanted to storm up to the gates of those agencies and beg that they let her in. She had been kicked out of the one place because her skirt was too short. Her skirt was too short; had they even thought to offer her anything else to wear. I knew I was only hearing her side of the story, but that didn’t matter. There was no reason which I could comprehend that justified having a fifteen year old sleep on the streets. On the filthy perilous streets of East Hastings. I wished I could have offered her a home, a family, and some love, but I was there only to leave again. She couldn’t escape her situation but in a few days I would get in the 15 passenger van and drive home. I offered her all I could; I listened, and in doing so I received more than I could have given. I received a passion, a passion that ten years later continues to fuel what I do. Black lights in the bathroom. Unwanted peas and corn. Dim lights where they ate their food. Rejected teen. I was only 13.

Do you know Joe?

The other day I was talking with my friend. She knows Joe, and so do I. I know about Joe’s love for animals, the hardships he faced as a child, and in losing his wife, and his distrust of people, because he has been let down. Joe lives in the inner-city, eats at the Mustard Seed Soup Kitchen and lives without a job.
When I was at the Farmers’ Market this week, the musician asked me if I knew Joe. Of course I do, and I was about to tell him so until I realised he might not be talking about the same Joe. The Joe he knows has his own story, his own definition of success and hopefully someone to trust.

I had a great day today

I had a great day today, and I thought you all should know about it. It started off with a great run with my roommate (oh boy, training for a triathlon). At that point I decided that I needed to take some me time to prepare for the day. I spent some time reading the Bible and in prayer. Then I headed off to my old Bible College. I debated whether it would really be a worthwhile trip. I didn’t have too much time to spend there, but it is a place I like to go where I can spend time with God without thinking that I should really be washing the dishes, or doing laundry, or sweeping, or checking my email one more time. So I headed up to the college. My theology prof was there, and I thought it would be good to have a chat with him. I stopped in his office and we had a great conversation about the Eucharist and about being the body of Christ. He confirmed a lot of thought I have recently had, and sent me on my way with a book. It was a really good and encouraging talk. Then I made my way to the LDS institute. In the last institute class I attended I really felt like I wanted to talk with the teacher, so I emailed him and we set up a time (which happened to be this morning). I wasn’t sure how our conversation would go, but in the email I had mentioned that I wanted to hear his story. I got to the institute building, and the doors were locked, which meant I had to ring the door bell, and that really scared me. A very large part of me wanted to turn and walk away, but I didn’t. I rang it, and I waited. I could see the Brother walk from the far end of the hall towards me. I think a million things went through my mind. I didn’t know what I was going to say to him. I had nothing planned. I sat down in his office as he finished off an email. I made some observations –Rugby picture –lobster trap –family photos; and said some silent prayers. “So, what do you want to know” he said breaking the silence. “Everything” I replied. And I felt like that statement was pretty true, I do want to know everything. He started from his birth and told me about his childhood, his grandparents, his experiences as a Catholic, as a born again Christian and then about how he became an LDS. He told me about how he came out west, and how he got a job with the LDS Church teaching seminary and then institute. He told me about his wife and his 6 children. And then his story concluded. He looked at me and asked about my story. “Did you grow up in the Church?” I was a little shocked by his question, but answered “I grew up going to Church, but not the LDS Church.” He was intrigued, but then I realised that more was needed to be said. I added “I am not a member.” He was shocked. He had no idea. I don’t try to trick people into thinking that I am LDS; I don’t know any Mormons with dreadlocks, but I guess it is mainly the LDS who attend institute, so it was understandable for him to think that I was a member. Then I shared parts of my story with him. I shared it much like I would share my story with kids at camp. I talked about my dad’s cancer and my parents love for Guatemala. I shared about my struggle with pride and about finding my worth in Christ. I shared about inner city mission trips and the way they have changed the direction of my life. I shared about Bible School and I shared about my decision to go to a different Church when I was in grade 11. I shared about why I moved and what I might take in school. There are a lot of things which have happened in my life. Then we started talking about the way he teaches. I admire his way of teaching so much, and he said that we should sit down and talk about it more some time. I’d like that. I didn’t think that we would talk for more than an hour, but we chatted for an hour and a half and we could have kept talking if he did not have a class to teach. He asked me where I attend church now, and when I told him that I went to a Mennonite Church he was rather surprised. As we walked down the hall to leave we talked about finding the value in different denominations even if we don’t agree with everything they believe.
I had told the girl I mentor that I would be at her house at one, but I did not leave the institute building until one and she lives far across the city. I also stopped at a gas station on the way to her house because I had to pee so bad, and while I was there I decided to buy gas and wash some of my windows. I then made a stop at Safeway, I more frequently shop at superstore, but Safeway was on the way and I have a gift card for there. I stopped to buy some fruits and veggies for the girl I mentor and her family. They lost electricity and thus lost all of the food in their fridge. I know that she will often tell me that there is no food it the fridge, but I know by that she often just means that there is nothing which she desires to eat, but when she asked for fruits and veggies, and her mom was well aware of her doing so, I know that they really did need some food. I got to the till and then remembered that I left my wallet it the car. I asked the cashier if I could run and grab it and she said that would be no problem, When I got back there was a different cashier and I was a little confused. Anyhow, I paid for my food, and completely forgot to use the gift card (good thing I will need more groceries again) and then got to her house at 1:51 Her nine year old sister greeted me and helped me put away the groceries. The girl I mentor was sleeping as she had felt kinda sick, but we woke her up to make cookies. And she came to life. After the cookie making I hung out with her little sister while she went and showered and then we went downtown to volunteer at a Centre which provides community, meals, food hampers and clothing to single moms and low income families. The girl I mentor and her mom and sister and a neighbour all came with us down there. It is great that they can volunteer and receive what they need at the same time, I think it gives dignity which is what that place is all about. They went home with food and new clothes. As I drove home (which give me a bit of time to think) I thought about how much I have come to love that family. I haven't always, but I think God has given me his love for them, and allowed me to see him in their love for eachother. That family is far from perfect. They hurt eachother, fight and yell at eachother, but in the end the love eachother, and care deeply for eachother and would do so much for eachother.
I also started thinking how it was pretty great that the place we volunteered at was able to give, and help out so much. I wondered if anyone practical would say that they should of had food storage so that when they were in need they had extra stored away, but I thought about the sharing that had taken place that night and then I got it. I couldn’t contain it. I laughed because I needed to release my heart. “That’s Christianity” I said out loud and I said it again, and again. I got it. Christianity isn’t having enough to care for one’s self, but about sharing when we have more than enough. It is about having a community to support those in need. It is about love. That is Christianity.
I think that Shane Claiborne echos the voice of the early Christians when he says that those with two coats ought to give one away, and to not give one away is like stealing from those who have none. I think if we have an extra can of food, and there are others going without, we have taken what rightfully belongs to them.

Population me?

I really like how she drives.

"Opinions are good"

That is what my roommate told me the other night as we were chatting, “opinions are good, but society tells us to be so open minded that we lose the ability to form opinions”
I don’t know how I feel about that. I think when she said opinions, she largely meant religious convictions. I have an opinion about what is true. I have an opinion about whether or not that shirt looks good on you. I have an opinion about the meat industry and I have an opinion about God. Is that okay? My opinions might be wrong. If I say your shirt is ugly, I might be wrong, but if I say that I don’t like your shirt, you cannot argue with that. Opinions hurt people, and I don’t like hurting people. I also think that we can be far too set in our opinion that we fail to see where others are coming from, and fail to see the good in their opinion. Their opinion might be wrong, but I can still learn fron it and accept it as their opinion. And I shall try to learn to share my opinion without hurting other. These are just my baby thoughts ont this, I still have much to learn. What are your thoughts?

Unrelated quote for the day:
“Whenever you are in doubt, apply the following test. Recall the face of the poorest and weakest person you may have seen and ask yourself if the step you contemplate is going to be of any use to them.” - Gandhi

I want to look the poor in the face, and see the face of God

"I wasn't exactly sure what a fully devoted Christian looked like, or if the world had even seen one in the last few centuries. From my desk at college, it looked like some time back we had stopped living Christianity and just started studying it." -Shane Claiborne

“He pled the cause of the afflicted and needy;
Then it was well.
Is not that what it means to know Me?”
Declares the LORD."
-Jeremiah 22:16

"God is in the slums, in the cardboard boxes where the poor play house. God is in the silence of a mother who has infected her child with a virus that will end both their lives. God is in the cries heard under the rubble of war. God is in the debris of wasted opportunity and lives, and God is with us if we are with them." -Bono

"Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world." -James 1:27

Remand Centre

I was sitting on the city train and listening to the conversation of two men behind me.
“Did you just get out of the Remand Centre?” the one asked.
“Yep. You too?”
“Yep.”
I looked up and out of my window I could see the Remand. Its tiny windows are like keys, but they seem to be hopeless keys that will never fit the lock. Hearing them speak about the Centre, and seeing it up ahead I was filled with emotions which I cannot quite understand, but I felt them in my gut. The Remand Centre which was built to house 340 prisoners now holds upwards of 800. I have heard that the human right activists have spoken harshly against the conditions inside. It is understaffed and as I gazed up at it I felt sick. This isn’t right, I thought. The train headed underground and the Remand was no longer in my sight, but it was still in my heart as I thought about the horrible treatment which is experienced there. The say that once people are finally sentenced they get two or even three days taken off of their jail term for every day they were in the Remand Centre because the conditions are so horrible. I heard the one man mention that he had gotten off “Scot Free”. I don’t know what he did, but it made me hurt for those who end up at the Remand even though they are innocent.
The train stopped and the Transit Police got on. “Tickets, transfers and passes” they demanded. I searched through my bag until I found my transfer to show to the Policewoman. She continued down the aisle. When she got to the men who had just gotten out of the Remand one was up front confessing “I don’t got one”. The other man searched in vain through his bag hoping to make it appear as if he had lost his ticket. They were both escorted off of the bus at the next stop.
I think it is just a fine if you fail to pay for the train, but I have come to realise that some people have no money, they cannot pay off a fine. If the fines don’t get paid I can only imagine that these men will end up back at the Remand.
The thought made me angry. I wished I could do something about it. I considered giving them my transfer; I didn’t know what else could be done. I wanted to offer them grace, but I wasn’t sure what it would have cost me.
The simple fact is that the train costs money. They didn’t pay, so they deserve the consequences. That is what is fair. That is justice... right?
I don’t know. It doesn’t sit right with me. The problem is far greater than the surface. It goes back further than I’ll ever know. Sending them back to the Remand seemingly with just perpetuate hopelessness. I am not convinced that incarceration is beneficial or even just, but I fear that I don’t have the better option. I just wanted to offer them grace, but maybe it wasn’t mine to give.

Beautiful Beyond description

The bus came promptly so I got on, and there in the very back of the bus was a guy and a girl (let's say late 30's) and well, I sat in the furthest back forward facing seat that is not the very back and kinda listened as she slurred her words, and asked "for a swig of that."
She was definitely drunk, and while I questioned his soberness, he was definitely better off than she was.
As the bus rode down the road she asked someone for a light, no one responded to her question, and the man told her that she couldn't ask for a light on the bus.
A while later she asked "What time is it” I turned around to face her and answered "7:49” she slurred back angrily "I wasn't talking to you." But at this time I had a short chance to observe. Definitely, wrapped in a paper bag, was a bottle of beer.
The main thing that kept entering my mine was that I shouldn't fear; not only that, but I was concerned to do anything that would make me look afraid. I just sat where I was, never turning around, but listening.
The bus stopped and a number of people got off. At this point, the driver took the opportunity to confront the couple. I could not hear what he said, and I do not know if he asked them to leave, or just to get rid of the alcohol. Either way, they seemed surprisingly willing to get up and leave.
I watched then as they stood outside the bus; the man supporting the woman. Again, she put the bottle to her lips, but he had had enough. He ripped the bottle from her hand, and though she tried to forbid him, she was unsuccessful. She stomped off in defeat while he poured the drink onto the thirsty ground, threw the bottle in the waste bin, and then ran off after her.
He loved
He cared
He pursued
I don't know if he caught up to her, nor how their story ends, for the bus drove away. A song contemplating God's greatness came into my mind, and I started to sing it, as if to comfort myself. That situation, and God's goodness clashed so severely, that I wasn't sure how to handle that. I changed the words to the song

There is brokenness beyond description
Pain to deep for words
Too hopeless for comprehension
Like nothing I have seen or heard
Who can grasp the depth or her hurting?
Who can fathom the full of her guilt?
There is brokenness beyond description
Sickness and despair

You're still, You're still
In love with her
You're still, You're still
In love with her
Holy God to whom all praise is due
You're still in love with her

And then as I walked home from the bus, there was one more song I found fitting

You are the God of the Broken
Friend of the weak
You washed the feet of the weary
Embraced the ones in need
I want to be like you Jesus
To have your heart in me
You are the God of the Humble
You are the Humble King

To have that heart in me: Oh God I pray that I may have your heart in me; to love the Broken and be friends with the weak. Even if they are weak because they are drunk, oh God, you love them. Give me a love that overpowers my fears. God, so many are weary, so many are in need; give me your heart for all who I come across. Amen.

Is it I Lord?

He said he might
clock out soon
he was sick,
very sick he told me
but he didn’t want the bug

to kill him.
He tried to cough it out
he tried to sneeze it out.
There where a lot of

sick people there
And what he had

wouldn’t go away.
He had tried everything;
Cough medicines,
Cold medicines,
Syrups and pills,
but it didn’t work,
so he said he might clock out.

The clock there was dead.
Someone in anger must have ripped it off the wall.
They had scrunched the hands,
and left it on the table.
Left it to find someone who,
could feel the pain

that they felt inside.

Would something be done?
These were people here;
People.
Not Animals.
They were not to be picked up and squished in a van.
If they were dogs,
Animal Rights would have gotten mad,
but they are people.
Oppressed,
Dignity stolen.
Who will stand up for them?
Who will shout out?
Who will yell?
Someone has to talk for them.
They could talk for them selves,
but who would listen?
Who wants to hear from the ones they crushed?
We don’t want for those we stepped on,
to stand up.
We want them to be forgotten
Unheard
forgotten
Unheard
Unseen.
LONG ENOUGH

Its been long enough.
The time is now;
before the clock goes out,
before more clocks get broken.
Its been long enough.
The time is now.
Time for someone to stand up.
Time for someone to shout out.
Are we ready to listen?
Its time.
Ready or not.

Joy, the gift of God's presents(presence)

I got my drivers license today, but now i never wanna drive, the thought scares me... (so i can't drive to Lacombe or Belfast)... but on to more weighing matters.

Christmas:
I was talking to a friend today
a lonely friend
a hurting friend
mediocre, mellow, moderate, modest
But mostly, he was lonely
and when we talked about Christmas
it meant nothing to him
no family to see
no friends to gather
no money to buy gifts
and no one to buy gifts for
sure the shelters would have a special Christmas event
music
food
and gifts
but on Christmas they are silent
the volunteers at home
warm
with friends
enjoying their time of refreshment
Christmas day must hurt
it is a time,
A time of friendship, spend alone
Of feasting, spent hungry
of presents, spent giftless
I wanted to cry for him
his face was as though he didn't care
his words portrayed that he wished he had made better choices
and now,
it was too late

He was one of many
and not the only one i talked to today

Richard hadn't had Christmas in nine years
Nine years with no joy, no presents
nine frost biting years
nine years ago (or so) i got a toy seal,
and a pink folder with stickers
and many other things, i no longer remember
and then when the gifts where all opened
and i had my toys lined up behind me
They were so few
I though
I should get more
but nine years ago Richard didn't even have a Christmas
he had nothing to line up
nothing to show off
and no one to show it off to

Richard never seems that lonely to me.
always he is there with a friend
or two
and he is happy
smart
friendly
yet he has no one to have Christmas with
no where to gather together
so he is left alone
and is that really a holiday?
i look forward to Christmas
mostly to see my cousins
and aunts and uncles
and may Grandparents
But if i had no one to go see
no good food to eat
no presents for me
I would dread that day
a time of joy
but i would loathe every moment of it's approaching
I'd give up on every having a good Christmas
leave behind my Childhood memories
Forget that i ever liked it
but Richard has not given up
he says
He is finally going up in the world
he thought
maybe next year
maybe then he would have a house
and have a celebration
don't loose hope,
never loose hope Richard
Please.