Prayer Walk

As we crunched up the alley way, we talked about the new booze store going up on the corner of Maryland and Notre Dame.  It's been a notorious corner with a sleezy hotel and booze joint there and a problem for years for the families living nearby.  Well, they've decided to make a seperate place to use booze, VLT's and "chicken to go" to draw in business.  The few of us decided to stop and pray, to ask God to have mercy.  Mercy on those flocking to places like that, mercy for the neighbors and mercy on those pouring money into it.  It's not worth the price of addiction, broken families and violence that it nurtures (the chicken may be a good idea but still.....).   So standing there, our kids whirling around on scooters in the parking lot, some neighbors walking by stopping for a chat, and Cyclone chomping on a dirty bone she found....we prayed....to the God of the Universe who hears those standing on cracked sidewalks.

We moved on down Maryland to the 7-11, passing by two police cars stopped to arrest a thin "out of it" looking lady.  One man leaned against the tree talking to the cops, "yah, she is causing no end of problems in our house!".  One of our group greet the policewomen heartily and on we walk.  We meet a couple more people we know at the 7-11.  The kids run in to buy some candy and we stop to talk.  Our friend there held a coffee, talking about a kids club she's started at the local school. Only one child was attending, she said, somehow the principle seems to make things difficult for a Christian group to start anything there.  As we stand there chatting, my hands full with the dogs leash, a basket ball, scooters and frisbee, three police cars come roaring up the parking lot, lights blazing.  We looked on interested, wondering if we were missing something.....it seemed pretty peaceful here a minute ago!  I saw them run into the store, then I looked at all the things I was holding, if I needed to run from some crime scene, I'd be in trouble ( and what about the kids inside??)!  It was actually funny because others standing around talking didn't miss a beat as if it was no big deal, kept on talking and slowly drifting away to other concerns.  The police came out and mumbled to each other "They said the 7-11 on Ellice!".  Getting into the cars, they turned on the lights again and zoomed to the "other 7-11" on Ellice (5 blocks down).

So that concluded our prayer walk, our hearts joyfully turning God-ward in the midst of a mess-ward West End that we are growing to know and love!

Blast from the past

The phone rang as I was just getting the shake and bake chicken ready for the oven.  "Hello?" I answered, busily wondering who it could be.  "Hi" said a soft voice, "this is Carla".  I knew right away who it was, but haven't heard her voice for at least 10 years.  This girl is distinctive, she and her sister were one of the many kids enjoying a kids club we ran out of our inner-city church  all those years ago.  Carla had found refuge for a night at our house, when her grandmother had too much to drink and threatened to punch her lights out.  She was different, soft heart and perseptive, honest and helpful.  Her sister too, though more tougher exterior but bright smile and "go get it" attitude.  We stayed in contact for awhile...they left up north, back to the reservation and to potential abuse, suicide, depression, lack of schooling.  They'd pop in once in a while to say hi and play with the boys (toddlers then).  We left for Burma and that was it, out of sight, out of mind for years.  Until today.

She came over.  I watched her as she shared with me about those years inbetween.   Her smile the same, soft ways, soft voice  but 23 now and still persevering.  She finished highschool, only 7 of them out of a starting class full.  She created a kids club up north, of 96 kids and 24 staff.  She has a loving and devoted boyfriend, and has plans to get married.  She has strived to keep clear of alcohol and drugs.  Her sister is a reservation policewomen getting respect but also scorned as part of the "law" that people fear up there.  They are survivors and thrivers...I knew they were different, we connected and saw something that would set them apart from the rest.  Many of their friends died back then pre-teens snuffing out their lives without a hope.  Carla and her sister determined not to be one of those statistics, and not only to avoid that trap, but to make a difference.  Not without pain and struggle but to stand against the tide and hurdles.  I am sooooo proud of them, I told her that and I want to see them continue to press through.  Thank God, Carla called today.

Loose screws

I know, I know...those following my blog have waited almost a month for the next entry, well here it is.  I want to thank the anonymous commenter (of April 6) that made me laugh heartely!!  I need a laugh.  And I will smooch my husband's gorgeous lips and know that my pain is His Pain, and that's why He went through such crap and died and rose again on the third day to blast His Spirit power into this garbagey, crappy world (at least my back alley is garbagey...the beautiful areas of our world need to be protected so we still know how it feels and looks like!).  The bed bugs have been dealt with, the hot drier on, I had a great dream of putting pedal to the metal in a race car and making flyng leaps over huge ramps, all over the world.  From one extreme to another it seems....

I had breakfast with a dear friend this week.  She is loosing wieght (not necessarily a good thing), has stained and stinky clothes on and mostly a vacant stare.  Her hand was shaking so much that she could barely chase her food across the plate to put in her mouth.  She finally asked a question after 45 minutes of chasing the eggs, "Do you know what I hope?".  "What do you hope?" I asked.  "I hope you'll get pregnant and have a daughter", she said with a barely visible twinkle in her eye.   She knows I have all boys, I know she came from a family of 7, 3 brothers and 3 sisters and that she misses the action, noise, fighting that happened when she was small.  More kids?  Not for me!  When it was time to leave, I asked her what I could pray for her about, she said the most cryptic words..."pray that I would be a good girl".  At 60+ she still yearns to be a good girl?  What is that about?  I'm still wondering. 

Bed Bug Blues

There is nothing I like better then squishing a fully loaded bed bug.  It happened this morning, just before taking the kids out to school, I saw a bug crawling ponderously over the kitchen floor.  I took a piece of paper and bent down to scrape it up.  Low and behold, its abdomen fully extended (blood I assumed), it was the creepiest crawly that I love to hate.  So with my husband shouting "NOOOOO!!!!!" in the background, I took one of his business cards (it was the handiest thing around) and squished it dead.  He wanted it captured live to show our exterminator friend.  Oh well, dead as a door nail, it's still a bed bug.  I slipped it into an envelope and into the freezer just in case it wanted to supernaturally rise from its splatted-ness.  At least it's in the vault, I thought.

Yes, the bed bug challenge has come around again.  Many months ago, and in an rented house we were so infested that every night we laid down, we knew we were to become a "living sacrifice" for these things.  We were itching to get out (no pun intended), buy a home and land in it safely and undisturbed.  Thank our God, it came to be.  We still thank God, but ask for His grace again.  We think perhaps one was brought home from the inner-city school our kids go to.  But then big posh hotels have the problem too, no one is exempt.  Is this a new wave of future torment, along with the recent devestating earthquakes and cyclones?  World-wide bed bugs, a plague worth thinking about.  Or not.  I'd rather not.

Hear the Silence

Pain has a way of making sure we hear it all the time.  Whether its physical or mental, it's voice is the first thing we hear in the morning (or let's make it all night!) and the last thing we hear at night.  Some people manage to stuff it and get on with their day, others are immobilized, literally.  Others cope by various chemical addictions, medical treatments or staying in bed,with the covers over their heads.  Pain has a way of paralyzing or pushing the button that's marked "rage", or "hide" or "help me".  Being through agonizing times is one thing, but with no hope of rescue, a light at the end of the proverbial tunnel is another.  My Spirit Blast this weekend and healing from some of these wounds came in the form of hearing some silence, letting that silence settle deep and responding to it with trust.  Christ the healer, I realize has not come to rip us apart with laws and legalize of how to live life or how to better manage our pain, but how to respond to His gentle love and presence.  For me, this came in the form of skillfully threaded words, soft music
and a Christian community that acknowledges pain too.  The broken came to worship and went away filled.  We worshiped with wounds, not expecting instant answers but opening our pain vault to his divine presence...whatever that would mean.

Society and so often the church today has tried to tell us not to feel pain, something is wrong if we are broken and confused.  In the cast room in the hospital a week ago, the doctor pointed out to my son, a vast array of colors and patterns he could pick for his cast cover  (he has a  broken wrist).  Would that make it heal faster?  Does it cut out the pain he feels when he bumps it or twists it the wrong way?  A young mom in the waiting room, carrying her little son on her hip, pointed out a glowing orange leg cast one guy was sporting.  "Maybe you'll get a pretty orange one like that!!" That didn't seem to make him smile and forget about his broken limb...in fact, his frown worsened.  Why do we put frosting on our wounds, as if it will sweeten it up a bit or make it more palatable?  I'm learning that it doesn't make a difference, what does is allowing ourselves to finally feel what we do, and realizing that Christ the healer invites us to worship him with it, cleanse ourselves in his light of love and concern and accept humbly the journey he has for us.  Hearing the pain is one thing, hearing the silence that it brings us too may be the first step towards the healing we crave.

gone is the light

Into the darkness we must go
Gone, gone is the light
Into the darkness we must go
Gone, gone is the light

Jesus remember me
When you enter your kingdom
Jesus remember me
When your kingdom comes

Father forgive them
They know not what they do
Father forgive them
They know not what they do

"Gone is the Light" by Gord Johnson

I remember meeting Gord, through our then friend Steve Bell.  Gord's guitar style was skilled and soothing, like Steve's but with a decidely different feel.  He came to play at our coffee houses, we saw in him the struggle of an artist trying to make it but having to go back to his day job.  Now years later, a compliation of worship music has been done by friend, Steve Bell...written by Gord.  Simple and beautifully constructed and written it has been a highlight for me to learn, play and root these songs in my heart and mind.  I remember a coffehouse I went to when I was pregnant with my first boy, I was sick, depressed, unreachable.  Gord was playing that night and he was able to reach into that darkness, guided by God's Spirit, to the place I roiled with pain.  He sat down with us at the break and he spoke into my darkness with grace, saying that his wife had been through years of depression and darkness.  He knew because he had walked through it with his wife.  This morning I walked through a similiar valley, it's been years of wavering between this darkness and light, depression and a clear blasting joy....and I'm tired, weary and ready to give up any sort of understanding of this heart-aching process.  I know deep down the reality of Christ in me, the surrender I must give and the wait for His rescue.  Gord's song is mine today..."into the darkness we must go",  "Jesus remember me!", "Father forgive them".  Then I wait, wait.  Wait for my heart to settle, wait for His rescue.  I wait.

far from blah

the sun is actually shining today!  my walk today was not a chore, with birdsong guiding my way down McGee St and then down Furby this morning.  saying good bye to my youngest at school, i settled into the nice feeling of a walk before me...musing over the past couple of days and weeks. i see Rachel walking towards me, haven't seen her for a couple of weeks.  we say hi, but she seems a little distant...that's ok, perhaps when the weather changes we can make plans to meet again. meanwhile, i mull over the fact that i've had this headcold for over a week now and have tried to 'lay low' in my stuffed up suffering.  with three boys, and a hyper pooch its hard to 'lay low' for any length of time.  dental visits, groceries, music lessons, seem to fill up the schedule as it usually does.  i crossed Sargent and thought about the movie my hubby and i watched last nite about Amelia Earhart's story, the first women  pilot to fly across the Atlantic.  the ending brought me up short, attempting a last leg of her round the world stint, she ran out of fuel over the Pacific and was lost to history without a trace.  funny how that affected me...by now I'm at a cross walk and an Asian lady stops about 7 feet from me and looks terrified at Cyclone looking at her.  "is he friendly dog? I scared".  she keeps her distance even though I say she's  ok, but Cylone denies her comfort by sensing her fear and barking a couple of times at her...'better to keep going' I think.  i get onto Furby and enjoy the sun, the birds and the thoughts...she should've waited for a clear day (who? Amelia...oh yah), a day like today, she'd see the island she needed to refuel at and she would've been back in her husbands arms the next day and a hero along with it.  All the world was watching her with bated breath, would she, could she do it?  So much struggle, love, so much risk involved to even get her and her silver plane up and into the clouds.  why do i relate to that?  i meet up with a elderly lady who walks her elderly dog on our street regularly.  i ask her how she is, she asks me, then she says "you know, last week the police were at that house," she pointed to one 3 doors down, "there were drugs and guns there, alot of them.  You know, this is good neighborhood but," she shrugs, "what can you do? drugs, guns..." she shakes her head and then smiles, "Bye-bye now, have a good day!"  i answer, "ok, you too!".  i had seen the 6 police cars and two investigative vans outside last week.  i thought perhaps a stabbing or something, but I guess it was a cache of guns and drugs the police had found.  the other nite i had reflected to some friends that lately i've been too blah to write in this blog.  nothing going on, sick, normal Winnipeg winter.  my walk today has taught me otherwise, life here is far from blah.