Proverb:

today I made up a proverb. maybe it has been stated before:

A man is as rich as his friends are generous.

what do you think?

Over the weekend I went to Jasper with my parents, both of my sister's and their husbands. It was a last minute family trip. We went on 3 hikes, all of which I had done as a kid with my dad. I am thankful for those father daughter camping trips I went on with my dad where we would hike, camp, and when I got older, backpack. Those are some of the times when I really bonded with my dad. We hike up the mountain Cavity, which was far more of a scramble than a walk in the park. I thought my dad was a little crazy for taking me up there when I was 6, but I still have a scar on my knee from that first trip. The hike up Cavity yesterday was dangerous. It was windy, and rainy, so the rocks were slippery. Looking from above, I watched my dad try to navigate an alternate route which only left him stranded on a rock wall. I hoped he would not fall.
My dad and I did a lot of scrambling, For a couple years we hiked into a campground called waterfall where two waterfalls met. One year we scrambled up beside the one waterfall, and the next year up climbed up the other waterfall. I think it was the first year when my dad and I had climbed different routes up a cliff. From the top I got out the camera and took a picture of him. "Good thing you took that picture" he had told me later "The rock I was holding was loose. That might have been the last picture you ever got of me." I shuddered, not liking my dad to talk like that.
The next year we climbed up the other waterfall. we came across some large rock piles let by glaciers. (I think they have a fancy name, but I don't know what it is now). We walked a couple of Kms to the far side of one, and on that end it was gently sloped. we walked up it with no problem and started heading back along the top. The problem came when we had to get off of the pile. The sides around us were a steep collection of large and small rocks. Everything was loose. My brave dad started down on his feet, but it wasn't long before he lost his balance and tumbled down the mountain. I thought he might die, but he was okay. I sat atop of the rock for a long time, terrified of going down. I thought about the song that said "your love is a mountain, firm beneath my feet", and wished that this mountain was at all firm. Eventually I made my way down.
We took a lot of pictures this weekend. And I thought about the time my dad had said that it was good I had taken the picture because it might have been the last. We found out a week before our trip to Jasper that my dad's cancer has come back, and with a vengeance. He seems healthy, but the tumors are beyond operable, and treatment can only delay the inevitable. He's made a bucket list, and on there was a trip to Jasper. Jasper is an important place for him. Take a Picture of dad on the mountain, this might be the last mountain he climbs. Take a picture of all of us together, who knows if we will all be together again. Take a picture of dad skipping rocks. Who knows if he will be out at a lake again. Take a picture of dad and his daughters because soon they won't have a father. Take a picture, it might be the last chance.

So, now I am feeling pretty hopeless and kinda depressed. I don't feel like doing anything, but I think the more I do, the better it is for me. I am feeling rather busy with school and work amongst many other things, and I can't do everything. Hopefully someday I will learn how to balance it all, but first I feel like I might crash.

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.

to whom will you listen?

The Voice of Justice from The Justice Conference on Vimeo.

If we are the body of Christ, then I am not sure how to trust him.

What do you think?

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.