Thursday, June 22, 2006

A Man Named Edward

Actually, he didn't really look like a man; rather, more like someone you would refer to as "a guy" because you don't want to insult him by calling him "boy" (unless you're a certain someone who has no qualms about using the term "the boy"). But hey, appearances are frequently misleading. Tuesday (yes, it's official: Tuesday is the official adventure day of Faye) I woke up early with the noble intent of going for a short morning jog. I've been trying to do one every morning ever since I went summer clothes shopping and was horrified to discover that I had increased a clothing size. As it turns out, I was just having a freak of nature day because the very next day when I retried putting on my purchases they were suddenly all 1 size too big: go figure. That is irrelevant, however, because my short jogs leave me panting- a good indication that I really am out of shape. The point is, at 7 am when I heard a voice say, "It's ok. Rest today." I was delighted to obey and happily fell back asleep for another hour. When I woke up, I leisurely went about my morning routine in a very rushed mood and as I brushed my teeth I told God I was sorry, but I would have to just spend time with him on the c-train because I needed to be downtown early in order to purchase my digital camera and assessories before my shift at the DC. "No, Faye, REST today." God, I can't. I don't have time. And then I saw my alarm clock. 9:00 am. I don't have to be at my shift until 12:45. It takes 45 minutes- 1 hour to get there. Add an extra 30 minutes to walk to the Camera Shoppe and buy my camera first, that gives me...hours. Righty-o. I'm feeling a little sheepish. So I stayed for an hour and read my bible. I don't really remember what I read. Mostly I just read it because I felt like I should stop talking all the time. Eventually I got distracted and decided to simply go for blunt honest truth. Ok, God. So you've been speaking to me through the Graham Cooke c-ds Nolan loaned me to listen to at work. Last time when Graham spoke about being in the presence of God I was struck particularly deeply by the idea that all nature longs to respond to Adam, to the image of God filled with God's Spirit. Ever since Nolan told me about some history book on ancient Celtic Christianity a year ago, I've developed an unspoke's longing to be like the old Celtic missionaries who all nature's creatures followed in adoration and trust as a sign to the peoples that God was present with these people. Come to think of it, maybe the desire to be united with nature has been longer than that. When I was a child, it was my favourite game to imagine myself as some sort of being who could either transform into an animal, control or manipulate natural elements, or at least have a super-natural ability to communicate meaningfully with animals. Um, Faye, you're still a child by that definition. Shhh. Stop giving away my secrets, dang it. I didn't even know I had any until you started interrupting. Anyways, last Friday at work I decided to set a spiritual goal. I want birds to come and sit in my hand without bribery from seeds one day. That is my superficial goal of God-connectedness. This begs the question, what must be done before that day can come? Part of it will come from Israel, I believe. Yet, I'm sure God does not require pilgrimages to the "Holy Land" in order to transform people. So what should I be focusing on at home? Oh, that hurts. Riiiight. Listening to You the first time you tell me to do something even when it seems inconvenient...like this morning when you asked me to stay and sit with you, to delay my rushing off. Or like every single bloody time I'm down-town and fail to stop and ask to pray with the street people who ask me for money everywhere (Mac and Louise challenged me on that one the last time they visited from Kelowna). Sigh. Time for the Job lament again.
I have heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now I see you. Therefore I despise myself and I repent in dust and ashes *.
*My thanks and gratitude go to Big Papa, who distributed a brilliant list of 50 verses to memorize at my second last year of Senior high camp at RECM. You were right. Memorizing scripture is a very good way to meditate on, rest in, take strength from, and communicate with God. At 10 am I am finished my revelations for the day and decide to head out. Upon disembarking from the train at 8th and 7th, I notice that in the place of my favourite Street Talk vendor outside the Moxie's/Sandman, there is a guy who looks to be 17-23 years old in a spiked green hoodie sitting with a cardboard sign that reads, "Travelling and Hungry. Anything will help." I feel drawn to go and talk to him, to offer him money. God, I don't have any cash. All my money's in debit and I need it for my camera. In a moment of brightness, I remember that I at least have a nature valley honey oat bar. Stopping a few feet away, I crouch down and retrieve the thing from my Mary Poppins black backpack. He was very gracious and thanked me for it after I offered my flimsy excuse about not having any cash and asked if the bar would be ok. I guiltily headed on my way towards the camera store and promised God that if he was still there when I came back and I had time before my shift I would go talk to him and pray for him. What do you know, I had more than 45 minutes to spare. And while paying for my camera I discovered $5 in my wallet that I'd forgetten I owned. And... what the deuce?! There's another nature valley bar in here?! And where the heck did all this change come from? Figures. God, you have a funny sense of humour. So I head back towards 8th and 7th. As I pass Century park, I consider stopping at Subway and getting him a meal instead of the $5, but God said, "No. Just give him the money. He needs to be shown trust, you need to honour his dignity." Ok. Across the street, I can't see him but I suppose the police van might be blocking my view (Side rant: I am INFURIATED that our city counsel opted to increase police funding by $26 million to disperse alledgedly "intimidating" homeless persons from the down-town c-train line viscinity instead of putting the money towards something more useful and preventative like subsidized housing so people won't have to be homeless and hang around the c-train line. Run to your phone! Run, RUN, RUN to your phone... and petition the provincial government to give municipal governments the right to legislate mandatory subsidized or low cost housing for every new community being developed. Then you must call the city of Calgary and let them know you want them to mandate this. The effect of this action will be to level the playing field of development companies who may otherwise feel tempted to only produce buildings affordable to the highest bidders. It would also be helpful to reccomend a legislated cap on rent in Calgary to reduce the occurrance of people on fixed incomes being evicted from their homes because their greedy land lords decided to increase rent above a feasible level in accordance with supply and demand. A renter's board to protect the rights of renters is also advisable...more on that later. Rant over.) Aha! He is still there. Reminding myself that God will go with me and give me answers that I don't have, I approach. "Hello again. I discovered I had more money than I thought, so I thought I'd come back and be honest." He looks at me blankly. I hand him the bill. His facial expression transforms to glee. "Sweet. Thanks!" Ok, gird your loins, Faye. What the...? Gird your loins?! Who says that to themself? I'll gird you, ya loin. Just ask a logical question like they taught you at SEMP! "So where are you headed?" Thus began a very interesting conversation. The traveller's name was Edward. I really did not expect that. I guess I just always had this stereotypical assumption that all street people have nick-names and/or use shortened forms of their real names. Edward is such an elegant, sophisticated, formal name. When I commented as much, Edward told me that both his younger sisters have similarly elegant names: Lauren and Heather. In an odd moment, after I wrote down the name of some Japanese food Edward highly reccomended I try when next I visited a sushi bar in my journal, Edward told me that I reminded him of Lauren, the middle child in his family. Such an odd moment of recognised universality. Lauren and Edward were very close, with growing-up experiences very similar to those I had with my siblings (ex. older brother being obnoxious and reading his younger sister's diary to make her mad). Edward is a 27 year old street person by choice. He had been hitch-hiking across Canada for the last 7 days and was on his way to Victoria to stay with some street friends there. They had previously hitch-hiked across Canada to visit him on the East coast and to check out some punk-rock shows. Edward's world travelling began in his mid-teens, when his father took him on a business trip to Japan. Since then he has been to most of the European countries, the States, a few South American countries, and...Israel. I told him that I was going to Israel in about a week and asked what his biggest impression of the place was. After reflecting on it a moment, he replied, "The prayer. The whole place is just saturated in prayer. It's not a bad thing, it's just different and very noticeable. You can feel it, see it, hear it everywhere." Interestingly, although Edward was not a strict follower of any religion himself, the one he most associated himself with was Christianity. He had travelled to Isreal with 2 Christian friends. When at last it was time for me to go, I asked Edward if there was anything I could pray for him. He considered a few seconds, then said, "Long life." I asked God for that plus eternal life with you. I think God will grant it. Not many people can say that they just woke up one morning and decided they didn't feel like doing hard or soft drugs anymore and are able to just quit, apart from divine intervention. But that was the experience for Edward. And he was deeply grateful that he had never become entangled with Crystal Meth while living on the streets in Edmonton- another protection by God, I believe. God has great plans for him. I hope he runs into Brenden at Freedom Camp while he's in BC, just for fun. To wrap things up, I promised (threatened?) to say more about a rent board. This idea came from a friend I met in DC training. She just happened to pop up at the DC in the middle of my shift when I wasn't busy with a call. Our quick little catch-up chat blew me away. An apartment her family rented turned out to be so insanitary (we're talking blood, feces, fur, and urine on the floor and walls) that she and her son ended up in the hospital. When the family demanded a return of their first month's rent and damage deposit to move elsewhere, the landlord refused and the police told them there is no legal responsibility for landlords to provide a sanitary apartment. Consequently, they were left apartmentless and several hundred dollars poorer. She, her husband, and their 3 kids ended up living on the streets for a while. They are in another apartment now, paying a ridiculous amount of rent for a very small space in a not-so-great area. Both my friend and her husband are university students so they have very small incomes. There is no social support for them here since all her family is east and his family has rejected them due to the marriage being bi-racial. Her husband had a nervous breakdown and had been missing since Monday. Oh, and the calls I dealt with at the DC for 5 hours? Almost 50 % were regarding finding accomodations because the caller had either just been evicted, was going to be evicted, or were living in completely unacceptable housing. The shelters are all at full capacity right now. I don't know what else to tell people besides, "That sucks." And then I pray against greed and injustice. And I think about Edward's challenge, "You want a different perspective on life? Try living on the street for a while." And then Matthew 6:25-35 comes to trouble me again.
Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and is tommorow thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, "What shall we eat?" or "What shall we drink?" or "What shall we wear?" For the pagans run after these things and your heavenly father knows that you need them. But seek first his Kindgdom and his rightiousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore, do not worry about tommorow, for tommorow will worry about itself. Each day has trouble enough of its own.
If God called me to live on the streets, would I trust him to either cure me of diabetis or to provide me with all the medications I need? I don't think I'm brave enough to try yet. So, does this one beat the others for length? We'll find out today!

Friday, June 09, 2006

A Series of Error in Judgement

So basically, this is my week: Error 1. On Tuesday I am still writing a paper that was due last Friday. At 4:40pm I dash out of the house to get to my 6:30 Driver's Ed class in Bonavista. (No, it doesn't take 2 hours to get there on city transit...it takes 1 1/2 hours.) I was supposed to meet my new friend (awe, new friends) a half hour before class so we could study for the written final. Thanks to rush hour c-train availability and some quick walking, I manage to make it there by 6:00. I am quite proud of my accomplishment, despite the fact that the instructor has not yet opened the door to let people in. A couple students are waiting around outside; however, Julie (new friend) is not among them. I don't really recognise the others, but then, I'm not the most observant of girls so maybe they've been in the class the whole time and I've just always ignored them. I shrug and sit down outside to read I am a Palestinian Christian while I wait for Patricia the instructor to show up. More students arrive. I glance up at them. Hmmm, they don't look very familiar either. I might be having a low blood sugar- that always makes everything seem strange. I check my blood sugar. It looks ok. Hey! It's 6:22! Where the deuce is Patricia? Where's Julie, for that matter? Is the test not until next week? I check my day timer. Nope, it's written right there: "Tuesday- Driver's Ed, meet Julie @ 6 to study" I go back to my reading. Who are those people? Wait a second...I was freaking out this morning b/c I was supposed to get my paper in today so it would only be counted as 1 day late instead of 2...it's not Tuesday! It's Monday! I pretend to read my book some more as still more Driver's Ed students come to wait outside the door and stare at the strange girl who doesn't know what day it is, then flee for the train station. That would be error 2. Although I work on the paper until midnight, I do not finish it. Error 3: Rather than go to bed, I decide to stay up an hour more and do still more unreliable online psychological quizzes until 1 am. I will not tell you the dubious results of my IQ test. Rather fried, but knowing my propensity to forget about things I am supposed to be doing first thing in the morning, I wisely check the calandar before I go to bed. Dr.'s appointment at 9:15 am. Let's see, that will take me about 2 hours by city transit; therefore, I should leave by 7 and get up by 6. I even leave myself a note about bringing the appropriate supplies for paper writing at school so that I will not have to come all the way home in between the appointment and the real Driver's ed. Error 4: On Tuesday I am still writing a paper that was due last Friday. Hooray, I make out of the house by 7 as planned! I get on the c-train and realize that I forgot to call city transit and ask how to get from the station to my dr's office. Oh well. I have pretty good photographic memory- I remember where the bus stop is. I do remember where the bus stop is. I walk over to it. There are 4 bus numbers posted there. Dang, don't remember that part. Stupid fuzzy visual memories. Is it the 20 or the 80? 20 sounds right- I'll just go with that. The 20 comes soon after and I confidently step on and start reading. After a while I look up to where we are. Aha, Heritage Park is just ahead. Oh good, then this is definitely the right bus. Right? Why are we turning right? I have to go left, darn it. Blast it all, now I'm stuck on a bus going the wrong way down a highway in ridiculously thick rush hour traffick to an unknown destination. I pull the stop cord and wait anxiously to see where the next stop is: Rocky view hospital. Well, I suppose that's not so bad. No time to wait for another mystery bus though- I'll hike it over. Options? Wander through that residential area and possibly get lost; cross the pedestrian overpass and risk getting lost in another residential area; or jump over that low metal barrier and walk beside the high way. I choose the latter. So fascinated am I by how rocky the ground is here that I fail to notice the dense shrubbery lining the cement wall which suddenly pops up, blocking my path beside the highway. I don't remember this from the busride. I try to look through the thick growth to see how long it lasts. The plants are just too thick. I glance back the way I have come. Well, it can't be that far. With the frozen traffic watching in fascination, I climb up on the barricade and start pushing my way through the shrubberies. It is quite dusty in here, but not so bad over all. I have to bend the trunks a little to get between the shrubs and the wall, but my progress isn't too bad. Wow, this is actually quite long and I still can't see the end ahead. All well, I must be at least half-way through now. It would probably take me just as long to go back as it would to go forward. I ignore the niggling worry that I might run into another cement wall on the other end. I am surprised to find that I am rather enjoying myself, even though it is quite obvious that I will never make it to my appointment on time now. But hey, at least I made the mistake of believing it was going to be wet and rainy today: I'm wearing my indescructible pleather coat and a pair of jeans, which are taking the worst of the brunt of my bushwacking for my limbs' skin. Dang, I am so stuck. This tree-like thing is not moving and I can't breath between it and the wall. What are you talking about? You can't get stuck in here. No one would find you for days. Who's going to think, "Hey, I'll bet Faye is stuck between a shrub and a cement wall along the highway that passes the Rockyview hospital"? And if you can't see the cars on the road right beside you, how are they going to see you to call EMS to come rescue you from a bush? God? Is that you being facetious and sardonic? Yes, now hurry up and wiggle before I start laughing so hard some poor African hunter magically appears on top of the empire state building. I grunt like Angelina Joli in Tomb Raider and I am free to breath again. Not free in the more general sense, though. My back pack is stuck. Whose idea was it to pack that thing with 5 text books, 2 meals, a pencil case, a phone directory, an agenda, snacks, a driver's manual and handbook, and various medical supplies, anyway?! Um, that would be me. So anyways, apparently if I brace one shoulder against a cement pillar and the other arm against the tree trunk, I can bend the tree long enough to get my back pack out. That was fun. Two shrub/tree things later, I find yet another impasse. There is a tree/bush thing too thick and wide to go through anywhere...except maybe right along the ground beside the wall. Stuck again. Bloody backpack. I take it off and shove it through the opening first, then follow after, wriggling on my belly. Just 5 shrubberies later, I am out on the other side and happily walking along the smooth grass beside the orchards close to heritage park. Amazingly, I actually make it to my appointment only a minute late. The nice receptionist leads me into a room right away and tells me the dr. will be with me in a few minutes. Oh good, I have a few moments to clean up. Where to start? Error 5: Most logical people would probably start by pulling the many sticks, yellow flowers, pieces of grass and leaves out of their hair, but I'm too smart for that. I wouldn't want to get my hair dirty with my very dusty/sweaty hands, so I wash my hands first; then, when mud starts trickling down my forearms, I expand my energies to encompass my arms up the elbows as well. Working quickly, I begin plucking foliage samples out of my hair. Tap, tap, tap. Who the deuce is that? Ooooooh. That would be Dr. Wilmot, my real Dr.'s associate, who I knew would be giving me my booster hepatitus shot, but whom I've always foolishly assumed to be a male (error 6). And that would be when I suddenly notice the large pile of dust, leaves, flowers, and twigs that had accumulated on the seat of the chair I was supposed to sit down in to recieve said shot. Suavely waiting until the nice. crisply dressed Dr. glances down to consult her clipboard, I smoothly brush off the pile of organic matter onto the marble tiled floor and kick it under the chair. She kindly smiles at me and avoids staring at my mud encrusted jeans or the dirt smudged jacket and backpack on the floor beside me as she loads up the harpoon, which, as it turns out, I didn't really need anyway because once you take the miserable things (all 3 of them) once you're set for life and I distinctly recall going through this torture before in elementary...so basically I've just spent $280 on potential murder weapons that could have gone instead to the digital camera I want to buy prior to leaving for my Israel trip (error 7). All well, I'm committed now. I go home and shower and work on my paper some more. Driver's Ed is fun. Not only do I pass the test, but Julie and I get to play hacky-sack with Julie's stollen bracelet out in the road during breaks. Out of nowhere, we end up talking about faith, Christ, the afterlife, and forgiveness. Julie invites me to come out for her 3 day birthday party at a round of bars and a bbq at her house on the 3rd day. Alas, I am working during the bbq so that leaves me only the bars to choose from. I'm not quite sure how I feel about my acceptance of her invitation. On the one hand, I really hate bars. I hate the smoke associated with them, I hate the smell of alcohol and sweaty bodies, I hate being packed into a small space with many, many people I do not know who are studiously comparing my body to others, I hate a lot of the drunken sexual crap that goes on in bars. On the other hand, I really hate being a good stereotypical white Christian bubble girl who only accepts people on her terms in her space and therefore has only other Christians for friends. Christ said, "GO and preach the gospel to the nations", he did not say, "WAIT for the nations to come ask if you know the meaning of life". Maybe I'll convince one of my more adventurous friends to come along with me. Anyways, back to a series of error in judgement...I do manage to finish and email my paper by midnight. I was feeling quite relieved and proud until the next morning when I go to work and my conscientios boss asks, "So you have, what 2, 2 1/2 weeks left until you leave now?" CRAP. Is it really that short? I have another paper due before I leave that's supposed to be double the length of this one that I haven't even started yet! I haven't bought any of the supplies I'm supposed to be taking with me! I haven't started regularly spending time with God yet in preparation for any spiritual or physical attacks headed my way. I can't find the passport photos I was told I would need in addition to my passport! I haven't completed even half the required reading! I haven't lost any weight to fit into my swimsuit again! (errors 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, and possibly 15, but not necessarily in that respective order). AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Sunday: Caroline gives me a shake (actually it was a hug and a prayer for peace). You're right, God. I was wrong to despair (error x). I know you're coming with me. And you're right: it is a fun game (see Graham Cooke, Being With God- The Language of God). Oh yeah, and my indestructible pleather jacket? Not quite so indestructible.

Friday, June 02, 2006

I Am A Bernese Mountain Dog

"Your Unconscious Mind Is Most Driven by Curiosity" the ominous screen told me...

Curiosity

You are full of questions about life, people, and your own potential. You spend more time than others imagining the possibilities for your life – and you're open to things others are too afraid to consider. You have an almost physical need to know and do more. It's only through new experiences that you feel a greater understanding of yourself and the world. You also have a rebellious streak that shows up when you feel unable to truly influence the world or circumstances around you. Your appetite for novel experiences also shows an openness others don't have, but wish they did. Your psyche is very rich; the more you learn about it, the more you will understand who you really are...

So I took an online Inkblot personality test. They're rather intriguing, especially if you're into abstract art. No matter what the website says about being highly developed by psychologists, don't let them fool you: Ink blots used to determine personality type (otherwise known as Rorschach tests) have very little reliability or validity. Most psychologists today use them as an icebreaker on first visits with clients...which was why I was kind of surprised when their results sounded ridiculously accurate for me. Fortunately, the riddle was solved when I checked my sister Sam's results and discovered that she had something nearly identical (given the slightly different term of "Imaginative"), at which point I realized I'd just fallen for a longer version of the fortune cookie syndrome. For fun, I give it 7 points out of 10.

By the way, for an additional 8 points of fun, I reccomend the what dog are you? personality profile test. I laughed when my psychological profile matched me to one of my favourite breeds. Apparently, I am a Bernese Mountain Dog. No bones about it, you're a good-hearted, people-loving Bernese Mountain Dog. Down-to-earth and loyal, no one works or plays harder than you do. You put your nose to the grindstone when it really counts, but you never neglect your social calendar. Simultaneously strong and sweet, you're very tuned-in to the feelings and needs of the other dogs you run with. Without having to be asked, you always have a helping paw to lend and a sympathetic shoulder to lean on. "Communication" is your middle name, and when that's paired with your unswerving devotion, you get a breed that everyone respects and trusts. Woof!

Alas, there was only a photo of some ugly bull dog and none of my beloved mountain dog and I'm too lazy to go find one to post here. Anyways, I should probably start the Montessori school research I kicked Chasey off the computer to accomplish...