For a belt, I cut the electrical cord off a clothing iron. The ends started to fray, so I re-cut them, burnt/fused them and dipped them in hot candle wax, which was rock hard after it cooled. I tie the ends together around my waste with a bowline knot.
Some things from the last 5 days:
- I preached on a microphone at Flinders St Station.
- A minister told me the motto for their buildings was 'People are more important than things.'
- Spent the night, house sitting a friends flat, watching Foxtel. So easy to be distracted from the 'real' world, I haven't slept there again, yet...
- Inspired another street person to start his own blog.
- Watched Borat, with friends.
- Handed out some gospel tracts, and people didn't throw them away?!
- Was put up in a backpackers hotel for a night by some concerned Christians, and had to convince them not to put me up for the whole week.
- Actually found a nice quiet spot to type in the State Library.
- An elderly lady stopped me in the street to ask why I had a cross on my top. When I told her what I was doing, she started crying, which made me cry. She said my parents must have raised me well. I agreed but when I mentioned that they couldn't understand why I am relying on the charity of others when I could support myself with a job, she responded they have it upside down, and you need to please God first.
- Made a baby smile.
- Had lunch with a mate who cooked the best meal I have tasted this year.
- Read some of my Biography of St.Francis book.
- Found a working bike rear lights module, blinking in the middle of the street.
- Spent the night sitting in Baptist Place alley, thinking about issues of drug use. I dozed off and when I woke up I found an empty syringe packet, so someone must have been there while I slept...
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Boxing Day
I heard someone walking by mention that "call centers are the new factorys..." A very insightful comment.
Tuesday:
Breakfast, watching the cricket, then afternoon tea in the city to celebrate my grandma's 92 birthday. Her goal is to live to watch the Olympics in Beijing, in two years time. I wonder if I make it to 92, what the Olympics would be like then? If I make it to 92 what would I be like then? I wonder if there are any 92 year olds in Africa? The irony of me snacking at a plush hotel cafe was not lost, but I was able to take some cake and muffin leftovers away with me (for others), in a container. Some farewells and then I was back on the streets, armed with delicious chocolate cake.
Later, I headed over to the corner of Gertrude and Brunswick Sts where a different food service called Food Not Bombs organized meals on the corner, and had a very good reputation. While I waited I watched a woman do Tai Chi in the park, then toss bread crumbs to about 2,000 hungry birds that surrounded her, each scrambling for a crumb, with some birds being the 'boss birds' dominating the others. There is some small correlation between this and the people at the food vans, but of course we are more calm and orderly. I wonder what dramatic change in circumstances to our city here might cause us to become like the birds? I have seen people behave in like this in images of food distribution relief in Somalia and other places. Just how far away culturally, and as individuals, are we from that kind of desperation? I gave another man, who was waiting, a piece of cake, and he commented on just how good it was. He asked if I was going to have a slice as well, but I said I was ok, it was for sharing. He said "Sharing is good, and the right thing to do, but you need to take care of yourself first, so save a slice for yourself later." But that didn't seem right to me. Why would I hold on to something if it can benefit someone now? I don't mind giving things away, as God always provides for my needs.
Another man came by and told us the Food Not Bombs people were on break until February. It was ok as we only had to walk one block down the hill to where others were waiting for the St.Vincents food van to arrive, outside the All Saints Church. As I leaned against the fence a young Asian man walked by and slowed down to look at the cake and muffins in the top of my bag. I offered him some and he eagerly took it. I asked him where he had gone for Christmas lunch? He said he hadn't eaten anything yesterday. I was surprised to learn he hadn't known about any of the free lunches for the homeless on Christmas day,and he was just as surprised to discover he had missed out. How could he not know? It's all people talked about in the last week, where they were going to eat next. He must be quite the loner, yet he was chatty enough with me. He told me that while he was living in an apartment now, that he had spent 6 months on the street, earlier on in the year. He said on the street you should never have/carry more than your sleeping bag, soap and a toothbrush, as you might need to drop your bag and run, at any time. Even at his lodgings he choose not to acquire any further possessions as you could be kicked out on to the street without warning, and if you cant take/carry something with you, then it is gone. So no point buying a tv or anything. He also said the biggest danger on the street was... poor footwear. If your shoes have a hole in the bottom then your feet keep wet and damp and they become a real health problem, and of course you need to be mobile to access services.
The van came by and announced that as it was Christmas week all the business that donated food were closed, and so all they had were a few hand made sandwiches (peanut butter, jam ect...) and we were limited to two each. So this was the flip side of Christmas. In the lead up there was virtually an unlimited spread food and places to eat, but on the other side, everyone was away and so things would be very scarce for a while. Do closed businesses and charitys just not care about the homeless after Christmas, was there no forward planing, or is that just how the cards are dealt? Can people cope for a coupe of weeks on reduced rations or will it cause them hardship? I think it will be ok, people are still getting 'something' to eat, and they mostly they some money to spend on food, if it becomes a priority. I handed out the rest of my cake and muffins.
Walking back through the city, I was wondering if I was really amongst the poorest and most marginalized of the city. Surely there was a deeper rabbit hole? I hadn't really talked (knowingly) to many criminals, prostitutes, and druggies. So I prayed to God about it, that if there was a deeper rabbit hole where I could talk to others about God then I would be interested in exploring it. A few minutes later two guys in a taxi called me over "Hey you with the cross, do you need a lift?" I shook their hand and said I was ok I was not going far. "You sure? We can take you where ever you like?" Very generous I thought, and noticed a beer in one guys hand. "I a good fu**" he said, and I realized they were trying to pick me up! "No, that's ok, see you later" I said and walked away thinking 'Not that kind of rabbit hole God!' While I don't mind talking to gay men, that whole scene was not one that I had considered I might be exposed to.
Back on the steps there was a couple of really really drunk men, beers in their hands, staggering about, swaying to music, and shouting out 'Warnieeee' celebrating his 700th wicket from earlier on in the day. I sat down with them. One said he had spent Christmas in 'lock up' and had a bet with some others as to how long it would be before the cops threw him back inside. Later as some cops approached they quickly put their wine bags in their backpacks and moved their beer cans behind some polls. The cops took the two cans they say, and threw them out, then moved on, and it was straight back to the celebration for the men.
As I stood there, another drunk man, Tony, came up and started talking to me, I could only understand about every third word, despite him keeping so close our chests kept bumping. His eyes were glazed over and I wondered just what intelligence and lucidity the man would display when he was sober, it was hard to imagine. I acted interested and tried to be a friend to him, as a reflection of Jesus, although I was slightly worried (for the first time) as I thought if I said the wrong thing his happiness could flip to anger, and possibly violence, in an instant. It felt like I was dancing with a Cobra.
Later he did get into a verbal fight with a much bigger angrier man, and they yelled into each other's faces a bit. When the bigger man pushed Tony, twice I had to put out my arm to stop him falling backwards down the steps, then they separated and the police came back and told us all to move along, they even told us to go and sit or sleep over at St.Pauls. I walked with Tony down the street a bit to Hungry Jacks where we met a girl Tony knew. She saw my top and said she used to be a Christian and we got into a long conversation about the existence of God. She no longer believed, saying "God, did nothing for me while I was a Christian, so I don't believe he exists..." and my argument just came down to "well I have met him, so I know he exists..." It was a good friendly chat and then she left, agreeing to disagree. About this time I noticed Tony had dropped his pants and was mooning everyone who walked by. So I decided it was a good time to make my exit.
Back over at SPC I went to sit down, when two security guards came over and told me to leave. I hadn't seen any Guards at St.Pauls before, and I told them the police had said to come over and sit here, but they were firm in their resolve that no one was allowed out the front of the building. I went back to the Arcade and slept. At one point I was woken up as some girls threw an empty milk crate at me, and then they ran away laughing.
Tuesday:
Breakfast, watching the cricket, then afternoon tea in the city to celebrate my grandma's 92 birthday. Her goal is to live to watch the Olympics in Beijing, in two years time. I wonder if I make it to 92, what the Olympics would be like then? If I make it to 92 what would I be like then? I wonder if there are any 92 year olds in Africa? The irony of me snacking at a plush hotel cafe was not lost, but I was able to take some cake and muffin leftovers away with me (for others), in a container. Some farewells and then I was back on the streets, armed with delicious chocolate cake.
Later, I headed over to the corner of Gertrude and Brunswick Sts where a different food service called Food Not Bombs organized meals on the corner, and had a very good reputation. While I waited I watched a woman do Tai Chi in the park, then toss bread crumbs to about 2,000 hungry birds that surrounded her, each scrambling for a crumb, with some birds being the 'boss birds' dominating the others. There is some small correlation between this and the people at the food vans, but of course we are more calm and orderly. I wonder what dramatic change in circumstances to our city here might cause us to become like the birds? I have seen people behave in like this in images of food distribution relief in Somalia and other places. Just how far away culturally, and as individuals, are we from that kind of desperation? I gave another man, who was waiting, a piece of cake, and he commented on just how good it was. He asked if I was going to have a slice as well, but I said I was ok, it was for sharing. He said "Sharing is good, and the right thing to do, but you need to take care of yourself first, so save a slice for yourself later." But that didn't seem right to me. Why would I hold on to something if it can benefit someone now? I don't mind giving things away, as God always provides for my needs.
Another man came by and told us the Food Not Bombs people were on break until February. It was ok as we only had to walk one block down the hill to where others were waiting for the St.Vincents food van to arrive, outside the All Saints Church. As I leaned against the fence a young Asian man walked by and slowed down to look at the cake and muffins in the top of my bag. I offered him some and he eagerly took it. I asked him where he had gone for Christmas lunch? He said he hadn't eaten anything yesterday. I was surprised to learn he hadn't known about any of the free lunches for the homeless on Christmas day,and he was just as surprised to discover he had missed out. How could he not know? It's all people talked about in the last week, where they were going to eat next. He must be quite the loner, yet he was chatty enough with me. He told me that while he was living in an apartment now, that he had spent 6 months on the street, earlier on in the year. He said on the street you should never have/carry more than your sleeping bag, soap and a toothbrush, as you might need to drop your bag and run, at any time. Even at his lodgings he choose not to acquire any further possessions as you could be kicked out on to the street without warning, and if you cant take/carry something with you, then it is gone. So no point buying a tv or anything. He also said the biggest danger on the street was... poor footwear. If your shoes have a hole in the bottom then your feet keep wet and damp and they become a real health problem, and of course you need to be mobile to access services.
The van came by and announced that as it was Christmas week all the business that donated food were closed, and so all they had were a few hand made sandwiches (peanut butter, jam ect...) and we were limited to two each. So this was the flip side of Christmas. In the lead up there was virtually an unlimited spread food and places to eat, but on the other side, everyone was away and so things would be very scarce for a while. Do closed businesses and charitys just not care about the homeless after Christmas, was there no forward planing, or is that just how the cards are dealt? Can people cope for a coupe of weeks on reduced rations or will it cause them hardship? I think it will be ok, people are still getting 'something' to eat, and they mostly they some money to spend on food, if it becomes a priority. I handed out the rest of my cake and muffins.
Walking back through the city, I was wondering if I was really amongst the poorest and most marginalized of the city. Surely there was a deeper rabbit hole? I hadn't really talked (knowingly) to many criminals, prostitutes, and druggies. So I prayed to God about it, that if there was a deeper rabbit hole where I could talk to others about God then I would be interested in exploring it. A few minutes later two guys in a taxi called me over "Hey you with the cross, do you need a lift?" I shook their hand and said I was ok I was not going far. "You sure? We can take you where ever you like?" Very generous I thought, and noticed a beer in one guys hand. "I a good fu**" he said, and I realized they were trying to pick me up! "No, that's ok, see you later" I said and walked away thinking 'Not that kind of rabbit hole God!' While I don't mind talking to gay men, that whole scene was not one that I had considered I might be exposed to.
Back on the steps there was a couple of really really drunk men, beers in their hands, staggering about, swaying to music, and shouting out 'Warnieeee' celebrating his 700th wicket from earlier on in the day. I sat down with them. One said he had spent Christmas in 'lock up' and had a bet with some others as to how long it would be before the cops threw him back inside. Later as some cops approached they quickly put their wine bags in their backpacks and moved their beer cans behind some polls. The cops took the two cans they say, and threw them out, then moved on, and it was straight back to the celebration for the men.
As I stood there, another drunk man, Tony, came up and started talking to me, I could only understand about every third word, despite him keeping so close our chests kept bumping. His eyes were glazed over and I wondered just what intelligence and lucidity the man would display when he was sober, it was hard to imagine. I acted interested and tried to be a friend to him, as a reflection of Jesus, although I was slightly worried (for the first time) as I thought if I said the wrong thing his happiness could flip to anger, and possibly violence, in an instant. It felt like I was dancing with a Cobra.
Later he did get into a verbal fight with a much bigger angrier man, and they yelled into each other's faces a bit. When the bigger man pushed Tony, twice I had to put out my arm to stop him falling backwards down the steps, then they separated and the police came back and told us all to move along, they even told us to go and sit or sleep over at St.Pauls. I walked with Tony down the street a bit to Hungry Jacks where we met a girl Tony knew. She saw my top and said she used to be a Christian and we got into a long conversation about the existence of God. She no longer believed, saying "God, did nothing for me while I was a Christian, so I don't believe he exists..." and my argument just came down to "well I have met him, so I know he exists..." It was a good friendly chat and then she left, agreeing to disagree. About this time I noticed Tony had dropped his pants and was mooning everyone who walked by. So I decided it was a good time to make my exit.
Back over at SPC I went to sit down, when two security guards came over and told me to leave. I hadn't seen any Guards at St.Pauls before, and I told them the police had said to come over and sit here, but they were firm in their resolve that no one was allowed out the front of the building. I went back to the Arcade and slept. At one point I was woken up as some girls threw an empty milk crate at me, and then they ran away laughing.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Christmas Day
At the Rosie's party yesterday there was a 'Santa' who was walking around merrily handing out... cigarettes. Yep, it was a different Christmas to what I was generally used to.
Monday:
I got up and thanked my friends for letting me sleep over, "that was a great Christmas present!", and headed back into the city. The streets were mostly empty, a few people around, it might be the quietest day of the year, before the storm of Boxing Day bargain sales would burst and batter the pavements with hundreds of jostling feet, tripping over each other, to reach the pinnacle of the bargain shopping tree.
But not today. As I walked around I noticed many homeless and marginalized people. There was one on every street corner. I wondered if they had come into the CBD in greater numbers because it was Christmas day, or for some other reason? Or, if it was just that with the normal crowds and people away from the streets of the city the homeless were now more visible? As if all the coloured smarties had been removed from a packet, just leaving the blue ones behind, on their own. A woman in a red coat asked me for a couple of dollars to buy some food. I gave her a dollar and said that there was a free meal on at the CoH in an hour, "Really?" She seemed excited and interested, and I said to meet me at FSS in an hour and I would show her where it was. She never turned up.
The 1st Christmas:
Outside the Hungry Jacks, near the FSS, I found Goaty. He said he had slept in front of the store until it opened, and he was asked to move on. It had been a cold night, though he was pleased to report a passerby had given him a jacket to wear, which helped. I felt a little guilty that I had in a nice warm flat, while he had been out here dealing with the elements. He introduced me to Robbie, an indigenous man, who seemed well liquored up already, or perhaps just had the shakes and slur from a lifetime of alcohol abuse. He might be sober?! I was not sure. He told me that in 20 years he had never paid for a tram ticket, and was never bothered by the inspectors. A little ironic, the inspectors are paid to hassle fare avoiders, and yet there are those in the social system that even they choose to ignore.
Goaty and I went for a walk. He wanted to show me the alley where the McDonalds sometimes threw out their burgers, no longer fit for consumption by health regulations, but for Goaty a feast. We turned into the alley and it was piled high with rubbish. With over 40 bins and mounds of stuff everywhere, I thought perhaps the garbos had been on strike. We wandered in and down the back. A few McDonalds employees stood at their back exit, and Goaty standing near an overturned rubbish crate, said, "I didn't do it," and started picking up the rubbish and putting it back in the crate. The overturned crate and the employees were already there before we came along, so I wondered why Goaty immediately assumed he was seen as a guilty party, when no one had even accused him of anything? Perhaps that's the way he had been treated many times in the past? Homeless person = guilty for messy bins? I can probably never know. The supervisor came over and said it was cool, his staff would clean it up, and then told an employee to go and get us a burger each. "Merry Christmas" he said, and we thanked him, and took the burgers, as they pulled down their roller door.
We sat down in the corner and ate. Goaty pointed out a small hole in the wall nearby. It went through to a locked closet and he said to keep it in mind if I needed a place to sleep, as he had used it once in the past. He listened to some AC/DC on his headphones and then asked if I would talk to his mum on the phone for him. I said ok, and asked if he wanted to speak to her as well, but he just wanted me to say hello and Merry Christmas to her, on his behalf. We got up and went to a pay phone down the street. He dialed but there was no answer. He rang some other relatives and discovered she was away on holidays in Queensland and couldn't be reached. Then it started pouring down with rain, and then the hail stones. Goaty rummaged through a bin and got two cups, went over to where it was pouring down off a roof and put the cups under the falling water. He said there was nothing as good as rain water. I was skeptical about drinking it and was relieved when he changed his mind and decided that the water might contain aluminium from the roof, and it might poison and kill you after a few days. So he tipped the water back out. Then along came Mirror, and she asked us if we were coming to the CoH for Christmas lunch. I said I would be there shortly. Goaty wasn't interested in going and just wanted to wander around the city some more, and so I wished him a Merry Christmas and said goodbye.
The 2nd Christmas:
I headed up to the Church of Hope, where there were about 30 people meeting for the community lunch. It was organized by the Glen Waverley AOG Church, which was mainly Sri Lankan. I spoke with one of the pastors from there. She was interest in what I was doing but made the point that poverty in Melbourne was very different to 'real poverty' in developing countries, like Sri Lanka.
The food was really good, with the full Christmas spread, and plenty of it. They made a point of checking that we, the visitors, were satisfied, encouraging us to go get more, and when we were full they made up containers of leftovers for us to take and eat later. Everybody seemed happy and having a good time. A number of street people were there and everyone was talking, which was good as there are usually a few loners about. Mirror and another girl got up and sang some carols, which were very different sounding ones to what I was used to, which made it refreshing. When they finished everyone applauded. There was a real sense of community there.
The 3rd Christmas:
After lunch I trained back out to my parents place. When I got there everyone was opening presents. I was asked to hand some out, but I declined. I didn't feel like handing out what were largely unneeded material things, when I had just spent time with others that had nothing. Not to say that I think presents are bad, as there is the good will with them, just that I think they would be much better if they were gifts based on useful need, rather than flippant nicetys. And that's the hard part, but in my case I was pleased to receive a couple of 10 journey transport passes. They were useful to me and not an over waste of money, so I was thankful. Also it was nice that no-one said anything about there being no gifts from me this year. I wasn't giving any, as I hadn't any money to spend, and was also in solidarity with other poor people who can't afford to give gifts, and I was also not expecting any gifts, and that's the best way to receive; when you're not expecting anything.
The rest of the night was good. I did have an issue with someone that I initially wrote about here, as I thought it was very relevant to my story, but the person was not happy that I wrote about it publicly, and so I have since removed it.
Wrapping it up:
So I experienced Christmas at three different levels of the social spectrum, learning lessons and developing relationships at each one. The gift of Jesus is a gift given to everyone, needed by everyone, but not wanted by everyone. I hope I can share this gift with everyone I meet, and that they will accept it.
Merry Christmas Everyone ~!!
Monday:
I got up and thanked my friends for letting me sleep over, "that was a great Christmas present!", and headed back into the city. The streets were mostly empty, a few people around, it might be the quietest day of the year, before the storm of Boxing Day bargain sales would burst and batter the pavements with hundreds of jostling feet, tripping over each other, to reach the pinnacle of the bargain shopping tree.
But not today. As I walked around I noticed many homeless and marginalized people. There was one on every street corner. I wondered if they had come into the CBD in greater numbers because it was Christmas day, or for some other reason? Or, if it was just that with the normal crowds and people away from the streets of the city the homeless were now more visible? As if all the coloured smarties had been removed from a packet, just leaving the blue ones behind, on their own. A woman in a red coat asked me for a couple of dollars to buy some food. I gave her a dollar and said that there was a free meal on at the CoH in an hour, "Really?" She seemed excited and interested, and I said to meet me at FSS in an hour and I would show her where it was. She never turned up.
The 1st Christmas:
Outside the Hungry Jacks, near the FSS, I found Goaty. He said he had slept in front of the store until it opened, and he was asked to move on. It had been a cold night, though he was pleased to report a passerby had given him a jacket to wear, which helped. I felt a little guilty that I had in a nice warm flat, while he had been out here dealing with the elements. He introduced me to Robbie, an indigenous man, who seemed well liquored up already, or perhaps just had the shakes and slur from a lifetime of alcohol abuse. He might be sober?! I was not sure. He told me that in 20 years he had never paid for a tram ticket, and was never bothered by the inspectors. A little ironic, the inspectors are paid to hassle fare avoiders, and yet there are those in the social system that even they choose to ignore.
Goaty and I went for a walk. He wanted to show me the alley where the McDonalds sometimes threw out their burgers, no longer fit for consumption by health regulations, but for Goaty a feast. We turned into the alley and it was piled high with rubbish. With over 40 bins and mounds of stuff everywhere, I thought perhaps the garbos had been on strike. We wandered in and down the back. A few McDonalds employees stood at their back exit, and Goaty standing near an overturned rubbish crate, said, "I didn't do it," and started picking up the rubbish and putting it back in the crate. The overturned crate and the employees were already there before we came along, so I wondered why Goaty immediately assumed he was seen as a guilty party, when no one had even accused him of anything? Perhaps that's the way he had been treated many times in the past? Homeless person = guilty for messy bins? I can probably never know. The supervisor came over and said it was cool, his staff would clean it up, and then told an employee to go and get us a burger each. "Merry Christmas" he said, and we thanked him, and took the burgers, as they pulled down their roller door.
We sat down in the corner and ate. Goaty pointed out a small hole in the wall nearby. It went through to a locked closet and he said to keep it in mind if I needed a place to sleep, as he had used it once in the past. He listened to some AC/DC on his headphones and then asked if I would talk to his mum on the phone for him. I said ok, and asked if he wanted to speak to her as well, but he just wanted me to say hello and Merry Christmas to her, on his behalf. We got up and went to a pay phone down the street. He dialed but there was no answer. He rang some other relatives and discovered she was away on holidays in Queensland and couldn't be reached. Then it started pouring down with rain, and then the hail stones. Goaty rummaged through a bin and got two cups, went over to where it was pouring down off a roof and put the cups under the falling water. He said there was nothing as good as rain water. I was skeptical about drinking it and was relieved when he changed his mind and decided that the water might contain aluminium from the roof, and it might poison and kill you after a few days. So he tipped the water back out. Then along came Mirror, and she asked us if we were coming to the CoH for Christmas lunch. I said I would be there shortly. Goaty wasn't interested in going and just wanted to wander around the city some more, and so I wished him a Merry Christmas and said goodbye.
The 2nd Christmas:
I headed up to the Church of Hope, where there were about 30 people meeting for the community lunch. It was organized by the Glen Waverley AOG Church, which was mainly Sri Lankan. I spoke with one of the pastors from there. She was interest in what I was doing but made the point that poverty in Melbourne was very different to 'real poverty' in developing countries, like Sri Lanka.
The food was really good, with the full Christmas spread, and plenty of it. They made a point of checking that we, the visitors, were satisfied, encouraging us to go get more, and when we were full they made up containers of leftovers for us to take and eat later. Everybody seemed happy and having a good time. A number of street people were there and everyone was talking, which was good as there are usually a few loners about. Mirror and another girl got up and sang some carols, which were very different sounding ones to what I was used to, which made it refreshing. When they finished everyone applauded. There was a real sense of community there.
The 3rd Christmas:
After lunch I trained back out to my parents place. When I got there everyone was opening presents. I was asked to hand some out, but I declined. I didn't feel like handing out what were largely unneeded material things, when I had just spent time with others that had nothing. Not to say that I think presents are bad, as there is the good will with them, just that I think they would be much better if they were gifts based on useful need, rather than flippant nicetys. And that's the hard part, but in my case I was pleased to receive a couple of 10 journey transport passes. They were useful to me and not an over waste of money, so I was thankful. Also it was nice that no-one said anything about there being no gifts from me this year. I wasn't giving any, as I hadn't any money to spend, and was also in solidarity with other poor people who can't afford to give gifts, and I was also not expecting any gifts, and that's the best way to receive; when you're not expecting anything.
The rest of the night was good. I did have an issue with someone that I initially wrote about here, as I thought it was very relevant to my story, but the person was not happy that I wrote about it publicly, and so I have since removed it.
Wrapping it up:
So I experienced Christmas at three different levels of the social spectrum, learning lessons and developing relationships at each one. The gift of Jesus is a gift given to everyone, needed by everyone, but not wanted by everyone. I hope I can share this gift with everyone I meet, and that they will accept it.
Merry Christmas Everyone ~!!
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Sun 24th Dec 06 - Christmas Eve
If you're ever running from the police, don't think heading into Flinders St Station for a train will help you. A few times I have seen cars screech up and 20 to 30 cops run into the station; it's very organized and planned. They have every exit covered and the one time a perp got lucky and onto a departing train, the cops rushed back out into their cars and floored it to the max, up the street after the train. With such haste they would be well at the next station before the train will get there.
Sunday:
I started the day by attending the service at St. Johns Lutheran Church at Southbank. The Lutheran church is not much different to any other, except the priest likes to sing almost everything and the congregation usually sings a response. It was fairly enjoyable, except that I am 'over' organ music.
Then I trained home to visit as I planned to be in and out over the few Christmas days, and my Uncle, Aunt and Grandma were down from Sydney this year, so I wanted to maximise as much time with them as possible, and still do some FW stuff. A relaxed afternoon with some good chats, and a warm shower to heat up from the cold morning.
In the evening, they gave me a lift back into the city (as they were attending the SPC carol service) and I headed off through the drizzle to the Yarra boatsheds where Rosie's Oblate Youth Mission were holding a Christmas BBQ get together for homeless and street people. Word had gone around that it would be 'the big one' to attend, and there would be lots of people going, which there was. Gift bags were handed out, but I didn't take one as it didn't provide anything I would need, and everyone lined up for some food. I chatted with Rupert, quite an effort for him to get here considering he walks very slowly with a walking frame, and everyone was happy and cheery, despite the occasional rain.
Cathy came over and we had a good long talk about God, hope and purpose. She wasn't religious but was very interested in what I had to say. She said I should go on tv and talk to people there. I said I was interested in the street community and she just couldn't understand why I would be interested in "people on the bottom" of society. Her experience was that professional people have no interest or respect for street people; illustrated by the story of how the lawyer handling her mother's death had not even called to tell her of the incident until 3 weeks after her mother died, consequently she had missed the funeral, and was feeling guilty about not being there.
After the party I met Roger Dodger up at SPC and he was interested in how I was going. He strongly encouraged me to go on the welfare system despite my protests that I didn't want any Government handout. He said since the money was there I should take it and pass it on to another needy person, or I could support a whole village in Africa based on the Centrelink pension. I said I really didn't want any welfare money, even for others, I didn't want to be signed on to the government's system. He said ok, then insisted I accept $20 from him to help me on my journey. I agreed, as long as he didn't need it himself and took it. He smiled slyly, and said, "You know, I am on the pension, and so that $20 is from the welfare system..." Doh! I replied, "In a round about way, but you are offering it out of a generous heart and concern, and that is why I am accepting it." He also gave me his address if I ever needed a place to stay, and I promised to drop by sometime.
Lastly, I headed off to my home Church for our 11pm carol service. I have to sit up the front now, as without my glasses I can't read the words on the screen from very far. The talk was on Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh, which was good as I had always wondered what that non-gold gift stuff was.
Afterwards it was cold, wet and it felt too late to make the effort to head back into the city, so I thought, "Any options, God?" I was just then talking with Harold about the possibility of sleeping in the hall, when some friends walked by and asked if I would like to stay at their place tonight. That was generous! We walked back to their place and talked a little about homelessness and Christmas time relative gatherings, then went to sleep.
Sunday:
I started the day by attending the service at St. Johns Lutheran Church at Southbank. The Lutheran church is not much different to any other, except the priest likes to sing almost everything and the congregation usually sings a response. It was fairly enjoyable, except that I am 'over' organ music.
Then I trained home to visit as I planned to be in and out over the few Christmas days, and my Uncle, Aunt and Grandma were down from Sydney this year, so I wanted to maximise as much time with them as possible, and still do some FW stuff. A relaxed afternoon with some good chats, and a warm shower to heat up from the cold morning.
In the evening, they gave me a lift back into the city (as they were attending the SPC carol service) and I headed off through the drizzle to the Yarra boatsheds where Rosie's Oblate Youth Mission were holding a Christmas BBQ get together for homeless and street people. Word had gone around that it would be 'the big one' to attend, and there would be lots of people going, which there was. Gift bags were handed out, but I didn't take one as it didn't provide anything I would need, and everyone lined up for some food. I chatted with Rupert, quite an effort for him to get here considering he walks very slowly with a walking frame, and everyone was happy and cheery, despite the occasional rain.
Cathy came over and we had a good long talk about God, hope and purpose. She wasn't religious but was very interested in what I had to say. She said I should go on tv and talk to people there. I said I was interested in the street community and she just couldn't understand why I would be interested in "people on the bottom" of society. Her experience was that professional people have no interest or respect for street people; illustrated by the story of how the lawyer handling her mother's death had not even called to tell her of the incident until 3 weeks after her mother died, consequently she had missed the funeral, and was feeling guilty about not being there.
After the party I met Roger Dodger up at SPC and he was interested in how I was going. He strongly encouraged me to go on the welfare system despite my protests that I didn't want any Government handout. He said since the money was there I should take it and pass it on to another needy person, or I could support a whole village in Africa based on the Centrelink pension. I said I really didn't want any welfare money, even for others, I didn't want to be signed on to the government's system. He said ok, then insisted I accept $20 from him to help me on my journey. I agreed, as long as he didn't need it himself and took it. He smiled slyly, and said, "You know, I am on the pension, and so that $20 is from the welfare system..." Doh! I replied, "In a round about way, but you are offering it out of a generous heart and concern, and that is why I am accepting it." He also gave me his address if I ever needed a place to stay, and I promised to drop by sometime.
Lastly, I headed off to my home Church for our 11pm carol service. I have to sit up the front now, as without my glasses I can't read the words on the screen from very far. The talk was on Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh, which was good as I had always wondered what that non-gold gift stuff was.
Afterwards it was cold, wet and it felt too late to make the effort to head back into the city, so I thought, "Any options, God?" I was just then talking with Harold about the possibility of sleeping in the hall, when some friends walked by and asked if I would like to stay at their place tonight. That was generous! We walked back to their place and talked a little about homelessness and Christmas time relative gatherings, then went to sleep.
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