Literal engagement...

Sensitivity is hard to come by. Sensibility is harder still. Sense is hardest of all.

Since I visited that mission I have for days on end have been unable to shake this feeling of bereftness, of not fully being here, of not being satisfied.

A friend of mine says that you have to find your passion, not your calling, not your path, not your wants or needs but an accumulation of all of that, find your passion.

What makes you want to do something. Anything. To make a difference in this world.

I stood there and thought to myself, this isn't something to be afraid of this is something to not want to end up in. But that being human, and being part of society we all have the ability to find ourselves in similar circumstances, is being literally engaged.

What is poverty really? What is it in this time and place? We are surrounded by multi-millionaires who are born out of a record, out of a book, a TV show...we are surrounded by people who seek education for the re numeration behind their degrees, with everyone striving to buy bigger houses, bigger cars, bigger lives.

Poverty is not welfare, it is not getting a monthly cheque, it is not receiving benefits, these are routes put in place so that you do not find yourself poverty stricken. We live in a country where there are ways to put food on the table, to place a roof over your head, to fund your education, but when all else fails sometimes you may find yourself in a line up waiting for a meal...

That is a place that any of us can find ourselves in, when people are losing millions what makes us immune to this cirucmstance? To be afraid of this is to deny ourselves the sense to live in this time and age.

This feeling of engagement made the whole season a time of reflection for me, as I toasted to well wishes for this year and next with those closest to me I realized that to truly live you must imagine your life in context, there are as many ways to lose as to win. To lose someone or to gain someone is of no consequence if you do not walk away from the experience with a firm respect for those who are still here.

I find and loose my passion for things very easily, but I have come to realize these past few days that maybe this is because I haven't found something that I truly feel blessed to be doing.

What I know now is that maybe walking into that mission brought me something that I never knew I wanted to be apart of ...

Stark Reality...

They say that Christmas is a time of birth, a time of giving not receiving, a time of cheer and merriment, a time for thankfulness. But how many of us centre this time around those things? How many of us truly cherish what we have?

I know that for alot of people this time is about putting social graces first, about doing things for the sake of doing rather than giving, for nothing more than the possessions that we seek to exchange on Boxing Day.

A few weeks ago I was faced with the part of Christmas that I most hated, the lines in the stores, the bah humbug attitude of shoppers and to my surprise a few discriminatory words in a parking lot. It made me seethe, so much that I called everyone in my life to tell them of my woe but what I didn't understand at that point was how blessed I was to have that encounter.

You see because I stand here in this nation at this time in history to feel the remark thrown at me, and I am now grateful because I have the ability to walk away, to ensure that I do not think like that. That I do not force that stark reality on anyone else.

Then last week I went out to do something that I haven't done in years and that was volunteer at Christmas, to serve food at a soup kitchen. As I walked in those doors my eyes swam with the realization that to many this was homecoming, this was shelter, this was a place of safety. Somewhere that for many of us coming to volunteer that day was a place that we wouldn't visit while we stopped Downtown, somewhere that we professed to "know" about but somewhere we refused to live.

I felt all these emotions rush through me but none of it was as sincere as the look that I faced when I looked up and saw the sincerity of a young man who was taking a bowl of soup and turkey with eyes filled with something that I couldn't place. Was it shame? sadness? Was this the face of poverty? No, it was sincerity, grate fullness and a genuine smile that transcended the place we were in.

One look as a thousand looks made me see that I was part of this crazy world but while I was moaning and groaning about life, about bills, about being underpaid, about all the things I did not have. I was looking across at a smile that came from his eyes, his lips and his soul. He was a person truly grateful for where God had placed him and he was not letting it crush him, while I was finding ways to put one foot in front of another.

The stark reality of it all is that you cannot stop being grateful of who, what, where and why you are here. There are so many things that you can change, but many circumstances that you cannot. You and your life deserve the ability to not be afraid, to carry yourself through your life.

No one else can take your place.