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October 19, 2008

Up here on the third floor of UGM, everyone’s got a different reason why we feel called to be here. I’m here for two reasons:

Firstly, I’ve spent years working in restaurants and I’ve seen where the cycle of addiction can begin for some. What starts as on occasional after-work drink soon becomes a race to the bar at any excuse. This has clamed many lives of people I care dearly about, and it broke my heart every time. I’ve seen where it starts, and so I desperately want to be there when they’re ready for it to end.
Secondly: I grew up in a home where both of my parents worked for a large non-profit organization. Because of this we moved around frequently. We lived in small towns; Labrador City, Penticton, and Saskatoon to name a few, certainly nowhere that vagrancy is in abundance.

When I was 12, we took a family trip to Los Angeles. In the sandy lot across from our hotel room was a macabre collection of boxes with blankets tossed over it to keep the wind and rain out. I remember wondering why someone would live like this, not realizing that for some people, it's not exactly a choice.

Some people make different choices than you or I, some people are a product of what was their “home” life, and some people really are victims of circumstance. I understand that now. Years passed by and I never forgot the haunting image and I never lost the longing to help this complete stranger.



This morning I find myself looking at the photo my mother took of this home (above), and wondering if this person was ok. Was there anyone there to save them? Did they want to be saved? I wonder if they were able to get off the street, or if this was their final resting place. I wonder if I hadn’t seen what poverty looked like at such a young age, if I would be here. In an odd way, I have someone I’ve never met to thank for helping me find my place in this world. I just hope they found theirs.