I met a woman today… it was like looking into a mirror of sorts. A woman that could easily have been me had circumstances worked out differently for either of us. She was younger than me and had lived a vastly different life, but the similarities are still there. Both of us neurodivergent; both with two autistic kids; both single moms recovering from very different but still traumatic marriages. Her world was one that is marked by substance use, abusive men, likely trauma from a young age and preceding generations.

I made her a coffee. She told me she likes her coffee like cake, creamy and sweet. I hope I did not make it too strong…

She had greying hair that had been dyed a pretty shade of purple a few months back. She told me of her pets, her dogs that had gotten out and harmed someone and been put down; her sister who had died of an overdose on the streets of Vancouver only a month before that; of her parents she’s caring for that live in her basement; of a husband who left and yet kept hanging around and she had no idea how to fully ask him to leave, yet zero financial support. She navigates her own mental health challenges with care, and you can see the toll a harder life has had on her. This past year has broken her, or very nearly.

There but for the grace of God go I.

In so many ways she and I are sisters, in so many ways our paths walked parallel to one another, different stories, different journeys, but our roads were both marked by similar potholes.

She talked of the system here, how hard it is to find a way to qualify for supports when she can’t pay the bills. When she can’t feed her kids, her parents, her deadbeat ex husband, and yet doesn’t qualify to receive a Christmas Hamper from the city to buy her kids a Christmas present.

She asked why, with all the talk in the news of caring for kids, why no one steps up to help make sure the children have enough to eat. She said to me that the children need love and they need food.

I said to her, that’s what Jesus taught us.

I told her a bit about myself and my journey. I told her I had found a home and a safe, non-judgmental place at the parish. That God had put food in my hands and, in many ways, compelled me to build (through a lot of chaos and stressful days) our food recovery program with our parish team.

She shared her joy at filling her car with chocolate cakes from a previous year when we had brought in two pallets of cakes. She had felt so much love and joy sharing cakes with her neighbourhood. The way her face lit up as she recounted the story, I can imagine exactly how empowering that day was for her, a day when she was providing for others and bringing smiles and happiness to those in her community, many of whom are also suffering under our current economy.

Chocolate cake. When there’s enough to feed a small army, it can restore dignity, be empowering, bring love and joy. However fleeting, moments like that should remind us all what we are called to do.

To love each other. To feed each other.

As I reflect on today and that discussion with her, I am reminded of a talk I was fortunate to attend by Kim Barthel where she talked about how trauma fractures and splits our DNA. That some traumas can be so severe and damaging that we pass that broken strand of DNA down to our children; that it’s predictive of the types of addictions and abuses a child will grow up and into.

And then, I also remember, that she pointed out that it’s been scientifically proven that we can heal that broken DNA. With Love.

Another way of looking at it is to suggest that Jesus taught us how to heal ourselves, even when he is not with us physically, that he gave us everything we need to heal from the generations of traumas we have inflicted upon ourselves.

Through science, we are validating His teaching.

Now if only more of us can learn to put it into practice and truly make loving and caring for one another something we truly ‘do’ without caring if we are noticed, without it being a political talking point, without it being a video of how great we are.

Just love each other. It’s that simple. It is. that hard.

I also remember in one of my earliest faith studies the book we were reading talked about faith being like one of those stock market line charts, or a reverse lightning bolt… zigging and zagging. One day you’re up, marching steadily towards grace, and then you slip and fall back… and the trick is to dust yourself off, look at what you did, and start again. Steady. Aware.

Overtime the practice of loving and praying and loving some more becomes easier, and we find newer and better ways to be our best selves and to love more authentically each day. To fear less and to reach out more.

As we walk into the Advent season, I pray that we all wake up each day and try to put this at the front of our minds. To embrace the day and set our intentions to try to love. To accept when we slip, and just try again. There are so many beautiful souls I know who live this so well, and I know how far I need to go… but I’m willing to try.

Are you?

I pray the light of Christ be upon you, this day and every day, and I pray that in reading this simple blog you feel a small burning of His love in your heart and that only by sharing it can you fan the flame of that love and make it grow.

God Bless you,

M