Winter has come early this year. Sudden snow and icy cold kind of jars you into another
reality. Suddenly, even though it is
November, it felt like January and I got into January sorts of things like
big coats, scarves, hats, mitts, warm boots, warming up the car, and driving in
bad weather. And in this space of
altered reality last week, I had a series of encounters.
The first was at a strip mall in Orillia. My partner and I had stopped to buy some food
at Food Basics and were walking to Subway to get some lunch on our way to another
event. On the sidewalk between Food Basics and Subway sat a large man with his Malamute dog and a sign that read “Homeless”. We passed by him and I heard him talking to the dog like she was his best friend. We had a nice warm lunch and as we left the restaurant, I decided to go
and put some money in the dog dish of coins beside the man and his dog. As I got near them, I pulled out my wallet
and took out a twenty dollar bill. When
the man saw it, he said, “Bless your heart.”
I handed it to him so it wouldn’t blow out of the bowl in the wind.
We began talking
and he told me that he and his dog Mukwah were on a cross-Canada walk to bring
awareness to the fact that pets can’t stay in homeless shelters. He told me of his plan to walk to British
Columbia and the route he was choosing so that the dog didn’t have to walk
farther than twenty or thirty km per day.
He pulls a kind of trailer with their gear when they walk. When we finished our conversation I shook his
hand and he gave me a business card with his facebook and email address. I checked out his facebook page later in the week
and it was full of news of Mukwah’s health and their plans.
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| James and Muckwah in Orillia from their facebook page |
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| Black-capped Chickadee |
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| White Breasted Nuthatch |
Three days later, I was working in Toronto and I had had a
number of cancellations due to the ill health of some clients. On one of these breaks I stepped out to buy a
cup of tea. At the bottom of the front
steps was my neighbour. This woman works
from home and we occasionally chat on the front porch when I am tending my
morning glories and she is having a smoke break. She told me earlier this year that her
husband had died and she is working her way through grief. I always pet her large golden retriever who
barks at me and then comes over for a pat.
This morning, she was
standing on the sidewalk with her usual dog as well as a new one. She waited for me to come down the
stairs. “This is my new therapy dog Eva,”
she explained. “She’s helping me with
losing my husband,” she continued. “I’ve
named her Eva after my husband. He was called Jean Yves.” We talked about the breeds that were evident
in this dog (Corgi, Golden Retreiver) that she has adopted from the Humane Society. She proudly talked about her disposition and breed
traits. In opening her heart to this new
dog, she is daring to love again, to share her love for her husband with a dog
who needs a home. “There’s nothing
better than a dog to help with grief,” I said.
I know that when you live alone, these
small conversations in the day can be like lifelines and so I took as long as
she needed to acknowledge her courage and her new love. “Well, we have to get to the park so Eva can
run,” she eventually said and we parted ways.
Later in that same day, I had another break and headed out
to get a gift card for my partner’s son and his family who just had a new baby
on the weekend. I got to the busy corner
of Spadina and Dupont and there, precariously balanced on the edge of the sidewalk
was an old woman with a walker. It was
very cold and she was bundled in a coat that seemed too big for her. I watched her closely, concerned for her
safety. “Ooooh,” she called out. “Do you have any coins? I am trying to get twenty dollars together
for my groceries.” I pulled out my
wallet and gave her the twenty dollars she needed. “Ooooh, you’re an angel,” she exclaimed. She was so tiny, I leaned over and gave her a
gentle hug. “It’s yours now,” I said, as
I smiled and walked on.
The next evening, I was in Barrie, doing the deposit for my
business. I took out extra cash since I attend
local artisan shows at this time of year to buy Christmas gifts for my family. I like to support local people and get
beautiful things for my loved ones. I
came out of the bank into the dark parking lot (even though it was only 5:30
pm) and a man approached me. For some
reason I was not afraid. He said, “Could
you help someone who has had the worst luck today?” “I can,” I responded. Reaching for a twenty dollar bill was
becoming second nature suddenly. I
passed him the money. “What happened?” I
asked. He told me that he had slept in
the shelter downtown last night and someone took his pack with his insulin in
it. “I’m trying to get to Timmins,” he
said, “but now I have to get some insulin.”
He thanked me for the money and I wished him good luck. Then I got into my car and drove away.
I spend a fair amount of time with my ninety-one year old
father in his senior’s home. I help him
with paying bills, going for walks, cutting his fingernails, getting him to
medical appointments, buying him cookies and candy and the list goes on. He gets a lot of help. Some he pays for and some is provided by the Ministry
of Health. I was doing his dishes this
week when I heard a voice calling in the hall.
The calling went on for a while and I finally opened my dad’s door and stepped
out into the hall. The woman who lives
across the hall from my father was the one who was calling. She couldn’t find the key for her room. She was searching madly through her
purse.. "Do you think they're in your room?" I asked. "I don't know," she cried. So, I went into her unit and looked
on the counter top and then on her dresser. There were the keys. I brought
them out and she was so relieved. Since
she is in a wheelchair, she asked me to lock the door and give her the
keys. I did so, touched her lightly on
the shoulder and went back to my father.
My father has a chronically dry mouth because of all the medications
that he is on. He likes to suck hard candies
to remedy this but now lacks the dexterity to get the plastic wrappers
off. I search stores for hard candies
with no wrappers which are surprisingly hard to find. I have shared this story with some of my clients. This week two clients brought me huge jars of
hard candies that go on sale at Christmas time for my father. He will love them. How kind of them to join me in my search and bring him something that I was unable to find.
These encounters kept playing through my mind as a montage,
as if they were connected. I sensed
there might be a message in there somewhere.
I help people for a living, so me helping them wasn’t out of
character. No, it wasn’t about
that. I live in one of the wealthiest
provinces in one of the wealthiest countries in the world. Yet our politicians tell a story of scarcity,
that we can’t afford to help those who need help. This feels untrue to me. It's like seeing the giant chickadee. It wasn't a chickadee at all! In the face of
government cuts, I can still act out of what feels true for me. I can see the nuthatch for the nuthatch that it is.
Another thing I learned from these encounters, these teachers, is that if you need
help, ask for it. You are more likely to
get it than if you never ask, even if it is hard candy (with no wrappers). We are all
connected and resources can move from one of us to another like atoms sharing moving
electrons that create electricity. When
we share what we have, we are in that flow and what we need has the momentum to
arrive. Also, I learned that although I
am no angel, I have the capacity to bring help when it is needed just like we
believe angels do. I always remember
that quote from Hebrews that says strangers may be angels we don't recognize. Perhaps the people I shared with were
angels in disguise. Who knows?
What I do know is that I am not going to let politicians dictate
that my story is one of scarcity. I can
tell and live a story of abundance.
There seems to be no shortage of ways to help people have a better day,
to be the help that arrives just when it is needed. There is enough to go around, there just isn’t
enough for greed. Well that is my story.
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