sometimes, you just have to take the first step.

i've been sitting on a dream of mine for nearly half of a decade now [that sounds more dramatic than 'for five years'] and have recently decided that now is as good of a time as any to get crackin on making it happen.

my dream job? to bridge the gap between two overlooked people groups [youth and the poor] through eye opening experiences, practical teaching, and personal reflection.

i remember the exact conversation that opened my eyes to see that my dream was not only possible, but meaningful.

i may have shared this before, but i was hanging out with some of my friends in a soup kitchen one day when i noticed that one of my street friends had a tattoo on his neck. curious about it, i asked him what it signified.

"this is the date my wife was born, and this one" he said as he choked up, "is the date she passed away".

he then began to tell me and one of the youth i was with about the day his whole life changed forever.

he, like many others, found comfort in a bottle. and another. and another. until his very life consisted of making trips to the local beer store in attempt to numb his unimaginable pain. before he knew it, he lost his job, his kids, and lastly, his house, causing him to become 'just another' invisible fixture on the city's cold and lonely sidewalk.

i obviously felt his pain [who wouldn't?], but having my dad still around at the time, i didn't understand grief the way i do now. but ashlea did. and i sat there in awe as i watched a 15 year old girl from wichita, kansas connect with a 40 some odd year old toronto man over the loss of a loved one.

that was a defining moment for me; a moment where my dream of bridging the gap between what would appear to be two unlikely people groups became realistic for me; realistic because i just watched a connection happen right before my very eyes.

so here i am, 'half a decade later' taking a step towards creating my dream job, and putting my gifts, passions, and experience, to use.

mark my word. one day, i will have a place downtown toronto where youth [and whoever wants to, really] can come and stay the week or weekend, learn about homelessness and other social issues in the city, hear real-life stories that break down the pre-conceived ideas they [we] have about those on the margins of society, challenge the barriers of judgement that we have so easily built around our hearts, and have the opportunity to actually serve at local soup kitchens and homeless shelters and the like.

but for now, i will hand out water.

after all, every dream begins with a single step.

will you join me?

operation hydration. this saturday. downtown toronto. 1-3ish. get at me for deets.

1) some days, i wonder if my friends realize how fortunate they are to have me in their life [or why it's so hard for them to express that at times], and other times, i convince myself that no one would notice if i disappeared tomorrow.

your mind [and emotions] can play tricks on you. do your utmost to guard both.

2) i wish that people could empathize with me, or at the very least, sympathize with my pain sometimes instead of writing it off and spewing nonsense [not directed at anyone specific]. at the end of the day, if you always respond to my heart [pain] with your head [logic], i'm most likely going to stop sharing it with you. [again, not directed at anyone specific].

logic has its place, but empathy trumps all.

then again, maybe it's time that i stop expecting people to respond to me the way i need them to, and start finding comfort from the One who understands exactly what i go through each day, and can actually do something about it.

in 1 Samuel chapter one we are introduced to a man named elkanah [didn't they have baby name books back then?], who the bible says had two wives: peninnah [clearly they didn't], who had children, and hannah, who did not.

it goes on to tell us in verses 6 and 7 that miss 'i have a really ugly name' provoked hannah [and kept provoking her] for years in order to irritate her. so not only was hannah dealing with an unmet desire of being a mom [something i can empathize with at age 35], she had this mean spirited and jealous sister-wife making things more unbearable for her.

her response? "in her deep anguish hannah prayed to the Lord, weeping bitterly" [vs 10]. so much in fact, that eli the priest thought she was drunk:

VS13: "hannah was praying in her heart, and her lips were moving but her voice was not heard. eli thought she was drunk and said to her, “how long are you going to stay drunk? put away your wine.”

VS15: “not so, my lord,” hannah replied, “i am a woman who is deeply troubled. i have not been drinking wine or beer; i was pouring out my soul to the Lord. do not take your servant for a wicked woman; i have been praying here out of my great anguish and grief."

i have read and meditated on this passage of scripture for over a month now, and can acknowledge that hannah's 'coping mechanism' was indeed healthy and most beneficial, yet i find it exceptionally hard to put it into practice myself.

instead of 'pouring out my soul to the Lord', i drown myself in episode after episode of the next best thing on netflix, devour a bag of chips [the only time i'm glad the bag is half full of air], or try and spill my heart to a friend who isn't going to respond the way i want them to any ways, because, well, they're different, and their perspective is different.

the world will tell you that alcohol, drugs, food, netflix, relationships and the like will bring you the most comfort in life, and while i can attest to the fact that these things [or whatever your personal coping mechanism is] will indeed bring you comfort for a period of time, i'm starting to believe that hannah was on to something.

thoughts?

apartment hunting can teach you a lot about life.

1) things are not always as they seem or appear.

you'd be surprised at how many pictures and ads don't actually match what is actually being offered. take the one house i looked at this past week, for example. the ad said that a fully furnished bedroom was available in a huge house. fact: the house was small, really small, and the room was indeed furnished if they consider a desk and a bar fridge suitable for sleeping on.

i don't get it? why pretend that you have something to offer other than what you, well, have to offer?

let me take this a step further and ask why it is we feel we need to pretend we're someone we're not, or pretend we're okay when we're dying on the inside? [things just got deep, y'all]. whether you're looking at an apartment, at the people in your life, or even in the mirror, the truth eventually comes out. be real. be honest.

2) life has a funny way of working itself out.

i felt an incredible amount of pressure the past week when it came to finding the 'right' place to live. so much in fact, that i think i chose the wrong one.

i accepted a basement apartment out of my price range [i mean, it was doable, but i would have had to sacrifice my McDonald's coffee every morning, among other things] because i needed a place to live and felt i have to make a quick decision. i started to feel unsettled about it half-way through packing, only to feel even more unsettled about my decision after my new landlord called me five times that day, changing his mind about things we previously talked about and things he had promised me. after the sixth call, which happened to be at 9:30p.m., i opted out, and the minute i hung up, i felt the peace i was looking for.

but now what?, i wondered.

today, i found my ' now what'; a perfectly located, and much cheaper, attic apartment in a peaceful cottage-like home.

now, i may be jumping the gun here, as my hopefully new landlord still needs to call my references, but i have much confidence in my ability to choose only the best references, and am just as confident that i convinced them that i would be a great tenant in the few minutes that i had to do so, but you never know.

3) we are not meant to do life alone.

i'm extremely thankful for my friend who brought me boxes and packing tape, for another who offered her home, and another, her couch. i'm grateful for all of the 'check-in' texts and e-mails, and the friends who picked up the phone when i was feeling overwhelmed on the other end. i'm not sure what i would do without the friends who came with me to check out my potential new home, and gave me insight as to whether or not it was a good fit, and whether or not they saw any red flags [since i only see white and gold ones ;)]. and i'm most certainly thankful for a God who continuously guides me along the BEST pathway for my life. [psalm 32:8 NLT].

we're not meant to do this thing alone; we're better together.

on Christ the solid rock i stand, all other ground is sinking sand.

i've sung that hymn on more than one occasion, but every once in a while, its meaning rings even truer in my heart, and echoes even more loudly in my life.

due do a recent death in my roommate's family, i've been asked to move out to make way for one of his family members to move in. now, never in a million years would i even compare the two losses; one being the tragic loss of his nephew, and the other being the place i've called home for the past two years, but both losses got me thinking about one profound truth:

nothing, absolutely nothing, is certain in life except Christ.

no job or position is guaranteed, people come and go, and material things - even apple products - can let us down. but God? God is constant. sure. unfailing.

i was feeling overwhelmed [and a tad bit lost] about my upcoming transition when i woke up this morning [and all day yesterday, too, if i'm being honest] and found myself filling my journal with relevant scripture today before work.

scripture like isaiah 26:3, which promises me perfect peace when i keep my mind focussed on God [the giver of peace], and continue to trust in Him.

or one of my more recent favourites, psalm 32:8, which reminds me that God will guide me along the BEST pathway for my life, which includes, but isn't limited to, the 'best' place to live.

when doubt comes crashing in, i can cling to Christ and His word.

when change surrounds me, and things feel uncertain, i can keep my eyes on 'hymn'.

1) sometimes, the best way to overcome something is to be proactive.

confession: i get really upset and/or irritated when people cancel on me or change plans, in fact, my perspective is quite black and white when it comes to this: if you cancel, especially more than once, i consider you unreliable, and can't help but take it personally.

sure, i have an imaginary box full of acceptable excuses [you or your children are sick, you have to work, something tragic happened etc], but outside of that is ... well, i'll call it like it is, unacceptable, and even inconsiderate at times.

lucky for you, i have since 'chilled out', as two of my closest friends have suggested at one time or another, and have worked hard at not taking such things personally. the reality is, things happen, other things come up, and plans change.

there have been many things that have aided my new way of responding to cancellations, but my biggest tool in overcoming this has been to always have a plan 'B', that way i'm not 'losing' anything, or wasting time wondering why plan 'A' fell through.

for example, say i have plans on tuesday night after work and some time between then and now, my friend cancels. as dramatic as this may sound, the old me would be so disappointed that i would sit at home all night and sulk, but the new and improved and proactive paula would have already made secondary plans [go to the gym, read, blog, catch up on sleep or suits - hello, harvey specter], and will spend the night following through with those instead.

sometimes, conquering something is as 'simple' as recognizing a pattern in our lives, and being proactive with it.

2) don't worry, be happy.

i was on my way to work the other day and found myself stressing about all i had to get done the next day. a few friends needed my help, and though i committed to helping one of them first, i wanted nothing less than to be able to help them both. in my mind though, none of it was coming together timing wise, and i felt torn, and stressed.

all of a sudden, i 'hear' a still small voice inside me saying,

"don't let tomorrow's worries steal today's peace"

and with that, i took a deep breath, prayed a quick prayer, and went about my day; perhaps some of you need to do the same thing today.

[in case you were wondering, the next day worked out just fine].

no i.d. no family and friends in sight. no eulogy or even a funeral. just a simple tweet that read: 'a man, believed to be homeless, has died after being found without vital signs at a yonge and dundas streetcar shelter'.

a day prior to this, another nameless man was found dead inside of a delivery truck on a cold winter's night.

and a few days after that, according to CP24, another man lost his life when his makeshift shelter caught on fire by the very flame he lit to keep himself warm.

sure, the latter man has been identified, but far too many haven't. want proof? go and read the 'homeless tribute' board located right outside of the infamous eaton centre; there you will find nothing but a list of john and jane does, along with their estimated death date. [example: jane doe - august 2013].

sad, isn't it?

i mean, can you, the reader, actually fathom what it would be like to disappear without a trace? to live your life only to be regarded as a random death, and even worse, a nameless human being? i sure can't.

but the truth is, identifiable to us or not, like you, every single one of 'them' has a story.

take my friend 'joe' for example.

i met joe when i was serving in one of the soup kitchens downtown. within a few minutes of talking, i had noticed that he had a tattoo of a couple dates on his neck. curious, and interested in tattoos, i asked him what its significance was.

"that one is when my wife was born", he said, "and this one is when she passed away". i gulped.

next thing you know, he began to share his life with me and one of the youth i was working with, and before we knew it, he was telling us how losing his wife was so traumatic that he didn't know how to cope. next thing he knew, he was drinking. a lot. so much in fact that he quickly lost his job, and his house, and then his kids ... all because he didn't know how to grieve. [who does, really?]

he wasn't - and isn't lazy. he didn't choose to live on the streets, nor did he choose for his wife to die. but it happened. all of it happened. and he hasn't been able to get back on his feet since.

if his story isn't eye opening enough, let me introduce you to my friend 'kyle'.

working in the financial district with over 300 employees underneath him, kyle was more than successful. that is, until the day his company decided to downgrade, and being one of the highest paid employees, and also one of the oldest, kyle was the first to go.

to his bewilderment, his severance package ran out before another company could take his resume [and his age] into consideration. next thing you know, kyle no longer had a job, or a home. kyle was homeless; a hard working and successful business man was homeless, and yet countless people walk by him every day and judge him as if he's a low-life who chose to be there.

these stories make you think, don't they? and they should. because they represent a vast majority of those who struggle with homelessness, and contrary to previous belief, every single person you walk by on the street has a story...and it's probably not what you think it is.

what's YOUR story?

like a permanent fixture in the building i work in, i walk by him and his tattered paper cup every day after work. i should know, i dropped a twonie in it once. just once. but i make a point of making eye contact and acknowledging him every other time.

i found myself looking for him yesterday, though, because as odd as this may sound, he was the first person i thought about when i woke up that morning. soon after waking up, my eyes were drawn to the money i have sitting on my dresser in a jar labeled 'giving', and seconds later, i felt a very specific amount impressed on my heart, and just as quickly tucked that amount into my coat pocket.

truth be told, i felt nervous about giving it to him all day. i knew i had to, but how? do i just non-chalantly walk up to him and put the money in his cup without saying anything? or do i say something spiritual like "God bless you", seeing as how He was the one that laid this man on my heart in the first place?

here goes nothing, i thought. i walk up to him after work, put the money in his cup, and before i know it, i'm telling him that he was the first thing i thought of when i woke up in the morning. [somehow it didn't seem as awkward or creepy as it does now lol]. we talked long enough to exchange names, long enough for me to find out that he has a brother named paul, and long enough for me to notice that his cup, with the exception of two measly dimes, was completely empty. like empty. a cup that gets passed by 72 floors worth of people each day had two - two! - dimes in it. as in twenty cents. as in not enough to buy a stinkin gumball.

now, before you get your panties all up in a knot, i am not here to judge the passerbys; if you remember correctly, i started this blog off by emphasizing the fact that prior to this morning, i had only given this man money on one occasion. one. so i understand why some people just walk on by.

what baffles me, though, if i'm being honest, is the fact that a lot of people think that this man, this human being, is only worth the twenty cents that sat at the bottom of his cup. having worked in three different inner-cities [vancouver, edmonton and toronto], i'm aware of [most of] the preconceived ideas that are floating around about people who struggle with homelessness, and about poverty, period, and want nothing more than to 'destroy' those ideas, or at the very least, challenge your - our - thinking.

that being said, i plan on blogging about such topics over the next little while, so stay tuned for ... well, my two cents.