In February 1989, under pressure from Flippy who insisted that he alone was a pure and true disciple, I quit my job with the social services agency in order to do fulltime ministry with Flippy downtown and among people living with (more dying from, in those days before retrovirals) AIDS. We were somewhat effective, opening our house and our lives to many gay men whose lives were being tragically cut short. We saw many deaths and also experienced in the spirit the liberation of many into God's presence.
We became desperately poor. My meagre unemployment insurance benefits (already greatly reduced, thanks to "reforms") were not enough to keep us alive. Flippy, who had major issues about working for a living, insisted that his work was the Lord's work, refused to go on welfare, and was content to live on my small UI benefits and whatever surplus God would provide. God did provide, but often we had no money at all. We ended up washing our clothes by hand and hanging them to dry. We would walk the nine mile distance downtown and walk back. I was supplementing our diet with wild greens harvested from our back yard.
Some people at the local Anglican church were interested in our community and at times contributed financially or with food. We were regarded as a mixed blessing and some found us to be simply too radical and too authentically New Testament for their comfort. Some actually turned against us and became quite vitriolic in their attacks on us. We did experience though from this church many eleventh hour rescues, including from threat of eviction for rent owed.
Dippy and Dopey, two older women involved in the local parish church became particularly interested in our community and were both intent on joining. Dippy was a superannuated farm girl in her forties with a very high sex drive and seemed quite intent on bedding both of us, especially Flippy. She never laid bare her intentions, nor, thankfully, anything else, but she still was like a cow in heat around us. It was uncomfortable, embarrassing and very creepy. She also had a heart of gold, would do anything to help others and seemed very fond of her personal perfection. A real piece of work.
Dopey was older, already in her sixties and saw our house and property as the very hospitality house that God had promised her as her ministry. A middle class Anglican matron she was also a self-confessed charismatic with some very flakey friends and almost begged to let her join us. This was for me very distressing. It didn't feel right and I was feeling invaded enough already. Flippy insisted that she had a lot of money tied up that she would be only too happy to keep us flush in. I eventually became reconciled with her presence, found her to be a great friend and full of good common sense.
Unlike Dippy, who was contentious, argumentative, impractical and had a her way or the highway mentality, an absolute ignorance of or respect for other people's personal boundaries, and took great delight following one around nattering and arguing her point until one had to agree with her just to shut her up and enjoy a moment's peace.
Dippy moved into Dopey's condo with her. They both did what they could to help sustain and support us.
Flippy, as I have already mentioned, had a violent temper and several times had already assaulted me. The third time he savagely beat me, without leaving marks (he was good at this) then left the house. This for me was the final break between us and from then on I did my utmost to see him driven out of our community. Many violent quarrels would occur first before he would finally leave more than a year later but I did succeed at gradually distancing myself from him. My mother's cancer returned, this time with a vengeance, and would soon be needing me all the time. In the meantime I was under constant pressure to lead, direct and mentor this fledgling Christian community that also wanted nothing to do with my input or counsel, much as they demanded it of me.
Is it any wonder I became eventually sick?
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