Spring. The mother of all metaphors. Last night as I was getting in the car to head over to Dinner, the sun was coming through the maple tree, suffusing the world with that green, that fresh incomparable green that you only get for a couple of weeks in late May. Not yet dusty or dry or bug bitten or tired. Just alive.
I drove over there with no food in my car. Just an empty pan to return to J. from the last Breakfast. We've been planning our schedule for the summer and, much thanks to J., we've got every week covered from here to the end of September. (Except for Canada Day, which is a Wednesday. That's TBA.) The Dinners will be provided by an assortment of 7 churches. A most auspicious number. Catholic, Presbyterian, Pentecostal, Baptist, Anglican, Evangelical Missionary, Catholic again.
Our regulars only have to cook one Dinner in all this, and put together Breakfasts. Sigh. Lovely.
B. dropped by last night for the first time in quite a while, paying her way with a butterscotch pudding dessert which is part of the reason we love her so much.
Had a good chat with E. She's very happy about the future right now. Since her disability pension came through, she's been able to pay off some debts, plan a weekend away visiting her grandkids and start looking for an apartment. She also made a couple of donations. One to us, for Dinners, and one to the Legal Help Centre.
That's a very cool thing. A registered charity. Don't know where all their funding comes from, but some is donations. They have a few lawyers on staff who "further and promote social justice, equity, and the right to self-determination through our services and programs in income security, housing security and health security." As opposed to Legal Aid, which helps when you've been charged with something and will be facing a judge. Legal Help fills a great gap for a lot of people who don't understand their rights, the processes involved, the jargon in which they're defined and what the hell do I do now? Good people.
When E. started her appeal process, she signed a contract of retainer, and the bill she paid in the end was simply for expenses incurred. So she wanted to give something back. Everybody wins.
On my way out, I walked past K., sitting on the steps having a smoke, and stopped to talk to A. He's in a really good place right now. This is the guy who told me a month ago, "I'm stuck between everything but what I want to be between." And now, a bunch of things have come together over the last week or so, and he's moved out of the Motel and into new digs at the Hilltop Apartments.
Really nice heritage building downtown. It has a truly majestic lobby (seriously). The apartments have high ceilings and cast iron radiators and windows that you could actually walk out through. (And land in traffic. Not recommended. But they look fantastic.) He says it's clean and quiet and wonderful. A really good shower. I wasn't sure he might not cry, telling me about it.
He said, "You know, it's like I say, one good thing about living here is it's as low as you can go. There's nowhere to go but up."
I said, "And now you have."
He grinned.
I congratulated him and walked to my car where I saw the pan I was supposed to give back to J.
Grabbed it and headed back up the steps past K.
Who said to me, "I used to live at the Hilltop Apartments, ya know." He took a drag and said, "I really miss my apartment."
I said, "Yeah, I know." 'Cause that's all I had. What do you say?
He'd heard my chat with A. About how wonderful it was to be going in that direction. All the while K. is going in the opposite direction. I hoped I hadn't said anything to A. that would hurt K. but you can't play that game for too long at the Motel.
Everybody's story is different, but they're heading in one of only two directions and you have to rejoice with those who rejoice. If they're grinning, you have to grin back. And try not to feel guilty about it.
But you love them both the same, the upbound and the downbound, and you dig into their stories in spite of the mental confusion.
Because you can't not love. You can't not embrace. You can't not care.
My husband gave me a wonderful book yesterday. It's called "Flawed Dogs - The Year End Leftovers at the Piddleton 'Last Chance' Dog Pound", by Berkeley Breathed. The last page reads:
"So in this world
Of the simple and odd
The bent and the plain,
The unbalanced bod,
The imperfect people
And differently pawed,
Some live without love...
That's how they're flawed."
r
I drove over there with no food in my car. Just an empty pan to return to J. from the last Breakfast. We've been planning our schedule for the summer and, much thanks to J., we've got every week covered from here to the end of September. (Except for Canada Day, which is a Wednesday. That's TBA.) The Dinners will be provided by an assortment of 7 churches. A most auspicious number. Catholic, Presbyterian, Pentecostal, Baptist, Anglican, Evangelical Missionary, Catholic again.
Our regulars only have to cook one Dinner in all this, and put together Breakfasts. Sigh. Lovely.
B. dropped by last night for the first time in quite a while, paying her way with a butterscotch pudding dessert which is part of the reason we love her so much.
Had a good chat with E. She's very happy about the future right now. Since her disability pension came through, she's been able to pay off some debts, plan a weekend away visiting her grandkids and start looking for an apartment. She also made a couple of donations. One to us, for Dinners, and one to the Legal Help Centre.
That's a very cool thing. A registered charity. Don't know where all their funding comes from, but some is donations. They have a few lawyers on staff who "further and promote social justice, equity, and the right to self-determination through our services and programs in income security, housing security and health security." As opposed to Legal Aid, which helps when you've been charged with something and will be facing a judge. Legal Help fills a great gap for a lot of people who don't understand their rights, the processes involved, the jargon in which they're defined and what the hell do I do now? Good people.
When E. started her appeal process, she signed a contract of retainer, and the bill she paid in the end was simply for expenses incurred. So she wanted to give something back. Everybody wins.
On my way out, I walked past K., sitting on the steps having a smoke, and stopped to talk to A. He's in a really good place right now. This is the guy who told me a month ago, "I'm stuck between everything but what I want to be between." And now, a bunch of things have come together over the last week or so, and he's moved out of the Motel and into new digs at the Hilltop Apartments.
Really nice heritage building downtown. It has a truly majestic lobby (seriously). The apartments have high ceilings and cast iron radiators and windows that you could actually walk out through. (And land in traffic. Not recommended. But they look fantastic.) He says it's clean and quiet and wonderful. A really good shower. I wasn't sure he might not cry, telling me about it.
He said, "You know, it's like I say, one good thing about living here is it's as low as you can go. There's nowhere to go but up."
I said, "And now you have."
He grinned.
I congratulated him and walked to my car where I saw the pan I was supposed to give back to J.
Grabbed it and headed back up the steps past K.
Who said to me, "I used to live at the Hilltop Apartments, ya know." He took a drag and said, "I really miss my apartment."
I said, "Yeah, I know." 'Cause that's all I had. What do you say?
He'd heard my chat with A. About how wonderful it was to be going in that direction. All the while K. is going in the opposite direction. I hoped I hadn't said anything to A. that would hurt K. but you can't play that game for too long at the Motel.
Everybody's story is different, but they're heading in one of only two directions and you have to rejoice with those who rejoice. If they're grinning, you have to grin back. And try not to feel guilty about it.
But you love them both the same, the upbound and the downbound, and you dig into their stories in spite of the mental confusion.
Because you can't not love. You can't not embrace. You can't not care.
My husband gave me a wonderful book yesterday. It's called "Flawed Dogs - The Year End Leftovers at the Piddleton 'Last Chance' Dog Pound", by Berkeley Breathed. The last page reads:
"So in this world
Of the simple and odd
The bent and the plain,
The unbalanced bod,
The imperfect people
And differently pawed,
Some live without love...
That's how they're flawed."
r
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