Kickin' it Old School

Erinn and I have had a fun couple of weeks. Our daughter has been away at 2 summer sleepover camps in a row and we've had opportunity to have a bunch of 'date nights'. We both love going to the movies, we did that a LOT when we were dating and first got married before Cate came along, so we've gone to see 3 films in the past 8 days. That feels like more than we've gone to in the past 10 years. (We were in a goofy mood the first night so went to see 'Tammy' for a few laughs. We did chuckle a little but it was a let down to be sure. Then we saw X-Men which was ok but afterwards I was left feeling uninspired and declared that I was done with those kinds of movies. We finally saw 'Begin Again' last nigh which was a hit for us. It was one of those movies I loved and didn't want to end. So great on so many levels. I'd highly recommend it)

Anyhoo, another thing Erinn and I did a lot of when we were dating (minds outta the gutter please) was street outreach. We'd make a bunch of sandwiches and pack bagged lunches and go downtown and hand them out either on our own or with a youth group that we'd be guiding. We called these nights 'sandwich runs'. We'd sometimes do this 3 times per week. We loved it. We'd stay out real late, hang out with our friends on the street, give spiels to youth groups as to why it's important as Christians to seek justice for the poor, and when we were done we'd often end up at Fran's on College Street eating lemon meringue pie or rice pudding until the wee hours of the morning. We fell in love with each other and the streets in those days. They were foundational times that prepared us for the work we've committed our whole lives to.
So last weekend Erinn, along with some folks from her ministry in Parkdale called 'The Dale', was taking a youth group out on a sandwich run and because Cate was away she asked if I'd like to go with her.
I said yes.
So on Friday night we got in the car, drove to Parkdale, had Roti's together for dinner, checked out their community garden, met 27 young people from Markham and handed out sandwiches with them, went for a snack afterwards, and went home.

It was awesome!
It was old school.

Of course lots has changed in the close to 20 years since we started doing this.
You couldn't have paid me to eat a roti back then whereas now it's one of my fave things to eat on the planet.
Community gardens were unheard of in the mid-90's.
I rode my mobility scooter this time around instead of walking. And when we were done we didn't go out for pie but went to 7-11 for a froster and were in bed by 10:15pm:)
And even though I'm quite ok with sandwich runs being a part of my past, it reminded me of why I fell in love with the streets.

And more importantly, I was reminded of how I fell in love with the beautiful Erinn Oxford.

I'm feeling quite thankful these days.
and blessed.

An Open Apology Letter to Winter

Feb. 15, 2004
Dear winter,
I have a confession and an apology to make.

I don’t hate you.

In fact, I think you’re beautiful. I’m sorry that I’ve been so angry at you for a few years now. I realized today that it’s not you that I’m mad at. It’s this awful disease of MS that I have that makes it so very difficult to get around in winter. I’m sorry for the misplaced anger. Please forgive me.

Today on this sunny, blue sky, tranquil Saturday morning I was reminded of how beautiful you are. As I sat on my bench at the skating rink and watched my girls skate, I took in your glorious wonder.
I looked at the perfectly white mounds of snow and had so many fond memories flooding back to me of the snow where I grew up in Newfoundland.
-I remember my love of snowmobiling virtually every afternoon of my life after school.
-I pictured the massively high snow banks on each side of our little town’s streets, and all of the fun we had has children playing on those.
-I recounted the countless hours spent with my friends tobogganing and skiing on the little slopes all throughout our neighbourhood.
-I fondly reminisced of the snowmobile trip my wife and I took while on our honeymoon in Vermont.

I so loved those days.

I then focused in on the ice itself and remembered how much I loved skating.
-As kids we grabbed our skates after school, jumped on our ski-doos and drove to the nearest frozen pond to play hockey.
-I loved the times when a group of friends would go to the local skating rink, go round and round, and take breaks in the stands of the rink with little cups of hot chocolate. Sometimes I’d even get to hold the hand of a pretty girl as we skated.
-I remember those winters when the bay in our little town would freeze over and we could go out on the ice on our ski-doo or ATV. We’d often dig a hole in that ice with an ice-auger and throw in a jigger and catch some codfish for supper.

I loved those days.

I took them for granted.

Now I can barely walk. I miss winter activities. But now, the slightest bit of snow in my path makes life a lot more difficult for me. I miss not being able to skate. Now I’m literally afraid for my life whenever I step on or near a patch of ice. It’s awful.

So yes, even though I long for you to go away, it’s not because I hate you. I don’t. It’s just that you remind me so often of the things that the disease has taken from me. No walks with my wife though winter wonderland trails. No skating with my daughter on Saturday mornings. I can’t even help to make a snowman any more.

So thanks for giving me some respite today and letting me enjoy my morning at the rink. It was lovely.

But still, and please don’t take this personally, if you could leave now and never come back I’d be thankful for that and would be perfectly content with my memories of you.

Your frenemy,
Dion

Us. and Them

I'm been clean for 5 days now.
And sober.
Yes. I'm an addict. And for the umpteenth time in a row I have committed to kicking my addiction as a new year's resolution.
It's slowly killing me. It's damaging my health. It zaps my energy. It clouds my thinking. It makes me feel shitty.
But only after the short term high it gives me.
I'm addicted to food. Junk food.
I love chips. Chocolate. Deep fried things. Cookies.
Salty things.
Sweet things.
Sweet and salty things.
It's brutal. Really, really brutal.
I've discovered over the past 18 months or so that when I eat a paleo diet, otherwise known as the caveman diet (consisting only of meat, vegetables, fruits, nuts, and seeds) that I feel a million times better.
I think more clearly. I have more energy. My MS symptoms get better (including my balance and ability to walk). I feel stronger. I work more efficiently. And I lose weight.
But yet I always fall off the wagon. I always relapse.
I tell myself all the reasons why this is so ridiculous.
"People are starving all over the world and yet I'm over eating."
"There is a food security crisis, including in our own backyards."
"My body is God's temple. I should treat it as that."
"I'm wasting money on crap when so many people around me are so very poor."
"I have a daughter who needs me and a wife who loves me."
"I'll feel and look so much better if I lose some weight."
But unfortunately, none of it works for long. I'm afraid that in 2 or 3 weeks from now I'll start to rationalize eating that bag of chips or chocolate bar and before long be right back at it again.

I have friends who are addicted to street drugs and alcohol. Lots of friends. I go to too many funerals for those who succumb to their addictions on the streets. I've been to 100's of them. I'm embarrassed to admit that I don't remember many of them as I've been to so many.
Sometimes I hear my friends who have chemical addictions say the same things I say about my own addictions.
"I'm going to quit before it kills me". They do very well for a week, or a month, or even a year. Sometimes they even go to rehab. But more often then not they find their way back to the thing that they love, which is also the thing that will kill them. Addiction is truly a love/hate relationship. And addiction kills.
But once in a while it sticks. Every now and then someone pronounces that they are quitting.
And they do. There seems to be no rhyme or reason as to why this time it sticks. It isn't a result of some miraculous healing from God. It just sticks. Maybe they've tried 15 times before to quit and gone to rehab a dozen times, but they try yet again and for some reason, it works. Addiction is in fact a curable disease.
I won't dare to say that my problems are anywhere near as big as some of that stuff. They're not. But my addiction is very much killing me slowly. Just like theirs. Just like 'them'.
And I'm trying yet again to quit. With the hope that this time it will stick. I'm inspired by my friends on the street who keep trying.
Not just the ones that make it but by those who don't as well.
They have hope.
They try.
And try again.
And try again and again and again.
And when they're ready, I'll be right there to help them get into rehab yet again if they want my help.
And most of them don't have anywhere near the level of family and communal support that I do.
So I'm going to try again.
Maybe this time it'll stick.
I'll just have to wait and see.
And try. And hope. And pray