Our Hands Have Touched God

That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched—this we proclaim concerning the Word of life. —1 John 1:1

On this day,
my prayer takes me
to the cross.

I hear
God’s laboured breath
and final words.

I see
God’s arms outstretched and aching,
hands pierced,
head crowned,
face in agony.

I touch
God’s bleeding feet.
My fingers tell Emmanuel,
“I’m here.”

My mind wants to
run and hide
in theology or memories,
but my gut is curt:
Stay here.

I kiss
God’s feet and bless
my lips and fingers.

 

 

Credits and References:
“Christ on the Cross” by Sonnenstrahl on Pixabay. Creative Commons.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2018.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows:
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2018.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
Posted in Easter, Holy Week, Poetry, Reflections | Tagged , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Jesus Shows the Full Extent of His Love

It was just before the Passover Feast. Jesus knew that the time had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he now showed them the full extent of his love. . . so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him. –John 13:1, 4,5 (NIV)

Jesus got up, took a basin of water and washed the disciples’ feet. The Son of God expressed the full extent of his love by caring for their bodies. He loved them entirely heart, soul, and body.

What might Jesus feel as he washed his beloved friends’ feet?

Perhaps a shudder of fear as he touched the place where his own feet would be pierced. Perhaps a wave of gratefulness that, for now anyway, their feet would be spared. Perhaps an ache of loss, knowing they’ve reached their destination. Perhaps a rising of hope as he imagines walking with them again.

What do I feel as Jesus washes my feet?

Embarrassed that he would care more for my feet than I do. A little overwhelmed at the intimacy of his touch. I struggle to stay present and be loved in this wordless way. I want it to be done and for him to never stop all at the same time. I fear I will be forgotten when he goes on to the others, yet I see them and want them to enjoy his extravagant love too.

What does my body feel?

Jesus’ holds my foot with one hand and pours warm water over it with the other. Then lowers my foot into the basin and washes between my toes. My skin feels the gentle touch of his hands, the warmth of the water, the coolness of the air as each foot is lifted and dried. I feel the tingle of clean, the invitation to rest, and the desire to keep following my Saviour.

* * *

Reflection questions for Maundy Thursday:

  • Imagine Jesus washing your feet. What goes on for you?
  • What feelings arise?
  • What conversation is sparked?
Credits and References:
Jesus washes the disciples’ feet by Harold Copping (1863-1932) from Waiting For The Word
 © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2018.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows:
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2018.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
Posted in Easter, Holy Week, Praying with the Imagination, Reflections | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Your King Is Coming

Do not be afraid, Daughter Zion;
    see, your king is coming,
    seated on a donkey’s colt. 
–John 12:15

Savour these words with me.

Do not be afraid, Daughter Zion; see, your king is coming. . .

Ever since I was young, waiting for someone to arrive makes me anxious. Fear asks, What if they don’t come? What if you don’t really matter? But in these words of John, reality tugs at my sleeve. “Look. See for yourself. Your king is coming. There he is, seated on a donkey.”

Daughter Zion. . .

Ever since I was young, I’ve had trouble believing I’m lovable. I was rarely anyone’s first choice. If I was, I assumed there must be something wrong with the person who would choose me. Whenever I started to believe I was good enough to be loved, something would happen to prove that I wasn’t. But the Christ who rides into Jerusalem every Palm Sunday comes and shows me the people in my life who know me and love me the way God does–just as I am. I am invited to lay down my palm branch and believe I am a beloved daughter and friend.

Your king is coming, seated on a donkey’s colt.

Ever since I was young and got in trouble for being bad, I was afraid of God. I knew Jesus loved me because the Bible told me so, but God, who knows all and sees all, I wasn’t so sure about. But Jesus shows us that God is like him: gentle, benevolent, and more loving than the most loving person you know.

“Recall a time when you felt loved or felt love for another,” Matthew Linn, SJ said when he came to Vancouver recently. “God loves you even more than that. Rest in this image as you go to sleep at night. Recall it again when you wake up in the morning.” This is our king. This is our God.

Gaylon Keeling Contemplation...Keeping Watch by Hafiz

In the morning
When I began to wake,
It happened again–

That feeling
That You, Beloved,
Had stood over me all night
Keeping watch,

That feeling
That as soon as I began to stir
You put Your lips on my forehead
And lit a Holy Lamp
Inside my Heart.

 * * *

For reflection and prayer:

  • What else do you hear in this verse?
  • What fear in you is being allayed?
  • Imagine laying down a palm branch and welcoming all the love you long for.
  • Steve Bell’s song “Lenten Lands” (lyrics by Malcolm Guite) echoes today’s theme. You may want to have a listen.
Credits and References:
“Entry into Jerusalem” by Giotto di Bondone (c. 1267 – January 8, 1337). Creative Commons.
“Contemplation” by Gaylon Keeling. Used with permission.
“Keeping Watch” is in I Heard God Laughing: Poems of Hope and Joy by Hafiz (Author), Daniel Ladinsky (Translator). Used with permission.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2018.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows:
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2018.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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Return and Rest

“Keep noticing,” says Father James Martin, SJ at the end of his Daily Examen podcast. It’s an invitation to notice God’s demonstrative love in the events of our lives. It’s also an invitation to notice what we’re feeling physically and emotionally and allow those feelings to be heard. Ignatius of Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits, said he learned far more from his feelings than he did from his thoughts. These inner movements helped him discern when he was moving toward God and when he was moving away from God.

It’s not so easy to listen to what I feel. If I listen to my body, it might ask for more rest when I have so much to do. If I listen to the knot of anxiety behind my sternum, will I be chastised by the voices in my head or by God?

Sometimes I’d rather not hear what my feelings have to say. Often I wish they’d just go away.

But another invitation comes from God: Keep returning. Keep returning to me with what you notice.

Yesterday that invitation came in these verses from Isaiah.

This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says:

“In repentance and rest is your salvation,
    in quietness and trust is your strength,
    but you would have none of it.
 You said, ‘No, we will flee on horses.’
    Therefore you will flee!
You said, ‘We will ride off on swift horses.’
    Therefore your pursuers will be swift!
A thousand will flee
    at the threat of one;
at the threat of five
    you will all flee away,
till you are left
    like a flagstaff on a mountaintop,
    like a banner on a hill.”

Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you;
    therefore he will rise up to show you compassion.
For the Lord is a God of justice.
    Blessed are all who wait for him!
–Isaiah 30:15-18

Three things stand out for me in this passage. First, that the Sovereign Lord calls us to return to God with our noticings (that’s what it means to repent) and sit quietly with the Holy One who desires only to love us more and more. Second, God knows we will “have none of it” and run from this love which is offered and that this will leave us feeling abandoned and alone. Third, God will rise up and bring us home.

I remember being told that when we walk away from God, God just waits until we return. But the Holy One does more than wait for us; God rises up and shows us compassion. God finds the lost sheep, the rejected Hagar, the despised Zacchaeus, you and me.

That knot in my chest returns me to God. It won’t go away–pursuing me on its “swift horse,” and I don’t want to listen to it alone.

I take a deep breath and settle into quietness and trust. Back here with God, I notice that I’m not so afraid to hear my soul speak.

Let me not run from the love which you offer. . .
Keep calling to me
until that day comes when with your saints,
I may praise you forever.
Soul of Christ Prayer

* * *

Reflection questions for your Lenten pilgrimage:

  • What have you noticed that has unsettled you?
  • How are you tempted to run from the love God offers?
  • How has God risen up to show you compassion?
Credits and References:
“Rest” by Aftab Uzzaman. Used with permission.
Luke 15:1-7, Genesis 16, Luke 19:1-10
Photo of child’s hand picking up leaf by Jennifer at Pixabay. Creative Commons.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2018.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows:
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2018.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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God’s Demonstrative Love

Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus’ feet and wiped his feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.–John 12:3 (NIV)

In Meeting Jesus in John, Brother Jonathan invited us to consider the demonstrative love of Jesus. Like Mary of Bethany who poured perfume on Jesus’s feet, God pours out love to us. Brother Jonathan says, “There’ve been many times where I felt completely unworthy of the love which brought me into being, saved me, and promises me, even now, eternal life. And yet, that is what the befriending of God in Jesus is about. It is about that extravagant love.”

Brother Jonathan invited us to ask for a renewed awareness of how God has demonstrated that extravagant love for us and “to turn in gratitude to the One who loved us first.”

I wrote down what came into my awareness.

I had planned to make a spinach, beet and goat cheese salad for a potluck then discovered someone else was bringing a similar salad. At first, I was disappointed that I had to change my plan, but as I was gathering salad ingredients at Costco I found one I enjoy that had all the fixings in it. It would take no time at all to prepare.

I went to Bible study on Day Two of my plan not to eat after supper, and someone brought really good chocolate. Wanting to get to Day Three gave me the courage to resist. Then a friend who works at a high-end pie shop brought in a pecan pie. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings and I wanted a piece of pie, but I also wanted to say no. The man who brought the chocolate looked at the woman cutting the pie and said, “I’ll pass.” And there was my opportunity. I added, “Me too.”

One guest at the Wednesday Lunch Club regularly takes food to another who has been too sick to come. I like this fellow but find it difficult when he liberally shares his thoughts and jokes without considering whom he might offend. It really bothered me this week, and I mentioned it in an email to my colleague who oversees the ministry. Speaking up about this stuff can become a big deal and I felt discouraged thinking about it. In her email back, my colleague told me she’d already had a gentle word with this man, and he agreed to “rein it in.”

In the Daily Examen, James Martin SJ invites us to begin the prayer by recalling two or three things that happened that day for which we are grateful. “They don’t have to be big things. Just notice them and give thanks,” he says.

So here are my three things. They’re not big, but they do mean a lot to me because they demonstrate how intimately God knows and cares for me.

Having loved his own who were in the world, he now showed them the full extent of his love. –John 13:2

* * *

Reflection questions for your Lenten pilgrimage:

  • Ask the Holy Spirit for a renewed awareness of God’s love for you.
  • How has God demonstrated that love?
  • Express your gratitude to God.
  • Ask for the grace to see opportunities to show God’s love to another.
Credits and References:
Painting of Mary washing Jesus’s feet by 125ed-magdalena2bunge2bpies2bde2bjesus [CC BY-SA 4.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons
“Washing of Feet” by Giotto di Bondone [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2018.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows:
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2018.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
Posted in Lent, Prayer, Reflections, Wednesday Lunch Club | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Loosening My Grip

I’ve been walking with the image of the dead leaf dancing in the wind.  With each step I hear, Peace before me. Peace behind me. Peace under my feet. 

I see a missed a call on my cell phone and feel a wave of panic. This could be bad news. But I have a directee coming soon and decide not to return the call. If I did, I could get embroiled in politics and then I’d find it difficult to stay present to my directee.

I sit in the chair where I offer spiritual direction and breathe as scenarios play out in my mind.

Peace before me. Peace behind me. Peace under my feet. 

God invites me to let go and trust.

After my directee leaves, I go online to send a quick email and see one from the person who called. Without opening the email, I see why they called: they want my advice on what to give someone for a gift. Whew!

Later, as I reflect on what happened, I realize how attached I am to a certain thing going a certain way and how helpless I am to ensure that it does. I didn’t lose what I feared I might, but that’s no guarantee I won’t in the future.

Can I hold what I love a little more loosely? Can I trust that even if the worst case scenario plays out, it will not be the end of the story?

Again I imagine the worst case scenario, but I don’t stop there. I also imagine how life might rise from the ashes. I feel my body relax, my grip loosen.

Christ before me. Christ behind me. Christ under my feet.

Those who try to make their life secure will lose it,
but those who lose their life will keep it.
–Luke 17:33 (NRSV)

* * *

Reflection questions for your Lenten pilgrimage:

  • What phone call would disturb your peace?
  • What would it be like to let go of life as you’d like it to be and trust God in life as it is?
  • What image, word or experience is God offering you today that helps you loosen your grip on life?
Credits and References:
“Walking in leaves” photo from Pixabay in Creative Commons.
“‘Just right!’ she sighed.” by Steve Corey. Used with permission.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2018.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows:
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2018.  http://www.estherhizsa.com

 

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Peace under Our Feet

During a silent retreat, I walked along the Pitt River. It was a blustery day and a zephyr of wind swept a few dead leaves into the air. They danced there for so long–swirling, dipping, and cresting–that I began to wonder if they were moths. I followed them until each one rested on the ground. I stopped and picked up a dead leaf, half expecting it to fly away.

The leaf was dry and fragile. It had not had life in its veins for some time and yet a minute ago, it was flying.

I held the leaf and pondered its invitation to let the wind carry me.

As I walked and even as we shared at the end of our retreat, this invitation offered no specifics. But in the days that followed, I felt carried by peace.

I awoke at night, disappointed with myself for not having had more compassion in a certain situation. I felt repentant and was about to let it go when another thought rose to my defence. Now I really didn’t know what to do. But as I was held there, I felt reassured that it was all right not to know.

It’s been snowy and really cold. No one likes to drive when it’s like this, so our weekly Bible study was cancelled. I enjoyed a spacious evening at home.

At the Wednesday Lunch Club, “Bill,” who’s been sleeping outside in these freezing temperatures, told us he’s been unable to repair his camp stove. When my colleague and I went to the attic to get the spare we didn’t need, we found the fur coat “Kim” had asked us to hold on to for her a year or two ago. Kim happened to be there that day. The delight on their faces when Bill opened the stove and when Kim put on her coat made my heart sing.

And I know what it’s singing: the song we sang on Sunday night at the Lenten mission.

Peace before us,
peace behind us,
peace under our feet.

Peace within us,
peace over us,
let all around us be peace.

Peace is joy resting; joy is peace dancing.
Charles Spurgeon

Reflection questions for your Lenten pilgrimage:

  • How does it feel to be carried on the Wind of God?
  • Take a moment to listen to or sing along with the song below.
  • Imagine the God of Peace before you, behind you and under your feet.
  • Sink into the reality that within us, above us and all around us is peace, love, light, and Christ.

* * *

At the Lenten Mission at St. Monica’s Parish in Richmond, Father Matthew Linn, co-author of Sleeping with Bread,  taught us this song by David Haas. “Peace before us” reminds us that the God of Peace will be with us in the days ahead. “Peace behind us” reminds us that God was with us in the past. “Peace under our feet” tells us that God is with us right now, right where we are in our current circumstance.

Credits and References:
Photo of fall leaves in public domain.
“Lovely Feet”  by Amancay Maahs. Used with permission.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2018.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows:
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2018.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
Posted in Lent, Reflections, Wednesday Lunch Club | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

All of Me

“You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope,” I read in The Message and was comforted because that’s exactly where I was.

But the beatitude didn’t end there. It went on to say, “With less of you, there is more of God and his rule.” Suddenly I was a kid put in her place, poked in the chest: You think you’re so good.

I’m sure Jesus didn’t intend for me to hear his words that way, nor did Eugene Peterson who translated Matthew 5:3. But the verse made me angry whenever I thought about it, so I didn’t.

Soon afterwards, I read in Gerald May’s The Awakened Heart: Living Beyond Addiction that God is hoping for “unexpurgated prayer. . . our being with God consciously just as we are with no censorship, no cleaning up our act, no posturing or posing–just be real.”

This means showing up in prayer with my anger at feeling shamed into humility.

For Lent this year, I’m praying with  Meeting Jesus in John, daily meditations by the Society of St. John the Evangelist. In Week 1 Day 2, Brother Mark reflects on John 3:16, explaining that “the world” God so loved is both the created world and the fallen world. Then he adds, “So if I were praying with this passage, I think I would personalize it and reflect on how God loves all of me, not only whatever I might be in my heavenly perfection eventually, but all of me, even now–the good, the bad and the ugly, all things together.”

I try to picture God loving all of me . . . all the time. I can easily imagine God loving me when I’m helping a homeless man, but it takes longer to feel God loving me without an iota of judgment when I’ve chosen again and again to do what robs me of life, when I face my regret and am afraid to hope, and when I’m at the end of my rope.

I pick up my pen and, without stopping, write in my journal until the page is full. As I do, God listens to my anger, hears my disappointment, and feels the weight of my shame.

An image comes to mind. I see myself nailed to a cross of desires, stretched out by the tension between two worlds. I also see God’s hands supporting my aching arms.

Later in the day, long after my prayer time is over, I remember the poke in the chest that brought me down a notch when I was a kid. I wonder what God, who loves all of me, saw when that happened.

I don’t remember the incident which prompted the accusation, but I do remember my shock. I didn’t think I was good or bad. I was just happy to be me.

That’s it. That’s what God saw: the part of me that disappeared that day. God wants all of me back.

* * *

Reflection questions for your Lenten pilgrimage:

  • Be real with God in your prayers today. Let the real you meet the real God who is far more loving than we can hope for or imagine.
  • As you bring all of yourself to God, what do you notice? Do you feel settled or unsettled? Tell God about this.

* * *

Join Father James Martin, S.J. as he guides you through the Daily Examen. He writes,”I’m overjoyed to share with you something that many of you had asked for, and something that America has long hoped to provide for you: a Daily Examen Podcast. In this podcast, which is not only available on America’s website, but is also downloadable (and subscribeable) on Apple and Android devices, I’ll lead you through the “examen,” the traditional Jesuit prayer that helps you see where God has been in your day. And by the way, it’s FREE.”

Credits and References:
“Half a flower” by Daniel Novta Used with permission.
Photo of Salzburg crucifix by Martha Carlough. Used with permission.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2018.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows:
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2018.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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Ash Wednesday

pilgrim shell and boots

Pilgrimage

Ash Wednesday
He’s on the road
PUT waiting for me

today we begin
a forty day walk
to Jerusalem

I lace up my shoes
and follow
PUT from a safe distance

but it’s bound to happen
His eyes will catch mine
and I must summon the courage
PUTnot to look away

for in His loving gaze
questions arise
PUTmemories
PUT
hopes

PUTand fears

and we will
carry them all
PUT to Jerusalem

*

Brian Whelan

 Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem. – Luke 9:51

* * *

Reflection questions for your Lenten pilgrimage

  • Where have you seen Jesus on the road?
  • What are you carrying?

* * *


For Lent this year, Bishop Melissa Skelton encouraged Anglicans in our diocese to pray with the 6-week series Meeting Jesus in the Gospel of JohnThis offering has been designed and produced by the Society of Saint John the Evangelist, a religious order for men in the Episcopal Church, and by the Center for the Ministry of Teaching of the Virginia Theological Seminary in Alexandria, Virginia. There is a video for each day and a lovely journal you can order or download. I’ve already started it and am loving it so far.

Credits:
Photo of hiking boots and scallop shell on the Camino de Santiago de Compostela from Paulo Coehlo forum. Labelled for reuse.
“Pilgrimage of Sight” by Brian Whelan was featured in explore, a magazine from the Ignatian Centre of Jesuit Education in Santa Clara California. The painting is owned by the vicar of Blythburgh Church in Suffolk, UK. Used here with permission.
“Pilgrimage” by Esther Hizsa from Stories of an Everyday Pilgrim, 2015.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2018
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-18.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
Posted in Lent, Poetry, Stories of an Everyday Pilgrim | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

When the Son of Man Comes

Tuesday night I met a friend for coffee at Tim Horton’s. Just as I was leaving, a young man with a cardboard sign asked me for money.

“Want a pair of socks?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said and smiled.

I took a pair out of my bag and handed it to him. “There’s a Tim Horton’s card inside and a power bar. My name’s Esther.”

“Mine’s Matt.”

“Matt? As in Matt and Jessica?”

He stared at me in disbelief and began to cry. “Yes. But Jess went back home to live with her parents,” he mumbled. “I miss her so much.”

A few months ago, I was volunteering with the Progressive Outreach Van at St.Stephen’s. We were having a slow day, so I decided to tour the area on my bike and see if I could drum up business. The outreach worker asked me to keep an eye out for a couple named “Matt” and “Jessica” who were on the list for housing.

In a pedestrian underpass, I saw their shopping cart and the outline of two bodies in sleeping bags. Jessica stuck out her head and greeted me warmly when I said hello. I put muffins and cereal bars in their cart and let them know we’d be around until two. She thanked me and said they’d drop by, but they didn’t.

I saw Jessica again panhandling on Christmas Eve. I was driving home after the late service and had to circle back to talk to her. I rolled down my window to give her a pair of socks and was instantly chilled by the frigid air. I invited her and Matt to the Wednesday Lunch Club’s Christmas dinner. “The directions to the church are inside,” I said. She called me an angel and said they’d come, but they didn’t.

Now here was Matt with tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Let’s go inside and sit down,” I said. “Want a coffee or hot chocolate? Something to eat?”

It was the first meal he’d had all day. He reminisced about Jessica and how the people who ran the hostel loved them and would often give them a two-for-one deal. But today had been hard; people were unkind. He prayed that something good would happen. Now it had, and he was grateful.

I watched him enjoy his food. His hands were swollen and his lips chapped, but he had beautiful teeth. So many people I meet who are homeless have rotten and missing teeth. “I don’t do drugs,” he said and pushed up his sleeves. His strong unblemished forearms looked like my son’s.

“I want to call Jess but I can’t. I won’t or she’ll come back in a minute, and that wouldn’t be good. Not for her.” He teared up again. “I’m sorry.”

I asked him about his family. He told me his father had disowned him and his mother died of a heart attack at fifty-six. “She was my best friend.”

I gave him money for transit and the hostel. (Burnaby doesn’t have a homeless shelter.) “This is good. I’ll get work at Labour Ready tomorrow, then I’ll be set.” He looked me in the eyes, “I thank you. My mother thanks you,” he said. “I want to stay in touch and let you know how I do.”

“I’m at St. Stephen’s on Sundays. You don’t need to come to church. Come afterwards for coffee and cookies. I’ll be there.”

“I like coffee and cookies. And church, too.”

I hugged him goodbye–like a mother hugs a son.

Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name,
you are mine.
–Isaiah 43:1 (NRSV)

* * *

Love Mischief for the World

Since 1981, Progressive Housing Society, outreach workers like Nicole (left) have provided support services to adults living with mental health issues or facing homelessness. They are a registered non-profit charity, working with over 250 clients in the Burnaby area. “We believe in empowering people to live well. That’s why we help clients with their basic needs while also helping them to live as independently as possible in the community. Access to food, shelter, and healthcare is essential, but we also help clients to develop and maintain life-skills. All of our programs are designed to support clients with their individual needs and preferences in mind.” –Progressive Housing Society

Burnaby’s Society to End Homelessness, which includes organizations such as Progressive Housing Society, has been urging our city, provincial and federal leaders to work together to provide impoverished citizens of Burnaby more than an emergency shelter which is only available in extreme weather conditions.

What love mischief are you and God doing to care for the world?
Let me know and I will include it in an upcoming post.

Credits and References:
“When the Son of Man comes” are the opening words of Jesus in Matthew 25:31-46 in which he says. “I was hungry and you fed me.” That phrase is also found in Luke 18:8 in which Jesus says, “…when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?”
“Homeless Jesus on a Bench” by Ancho. In public domain.
“Homeless” by Mark O’Rourke. Used with permission.
Photo of Nicole and Progressive Housing Society‘s outreach van used with permission.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2018.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows:
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2018.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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