Places Where I've Lived: Basement Suite 4

My life was downright monastic.  I got up every morning, crack of dawn and walked two and a half miles to make it to the 7:15 am mass.  Every day except Thursday and Sunday.  Thursday's mass was at 9:30.  That was the church ladies' mass.  The church ladies are a reality in every Anglican parish.  They run the church.  Some of them are downright evil.  You don't want to mess with an evil church lady.  They are truly terrifying.  Evil church ladies were the prototype for the wicked witches in the unedited Grimm's fairy tales.  I was usually working at nine-thirty though on occasion I did attend if only to remind me of why God wouldn't mind if I booked off just one day a week.

At that time, in 1982 I had become totally dependent upon the mass.  I blamed Mother Teresa who then was one of my mentors.  I took my Christian faith very seriously.  I took everything very seriously.  I took especially myself very seriously.  Hey, I was in my twenties! I couldn't deny that something special seemed to occur for me whenever I received the blessed sacrament at the altar.  That for me was receiving Christ.  What I hadn't clued into was that Christ was always waiting for me everywhere, in every person, situation and circumstance for me to receive and welcome.  The eucharist was simply an image of this reality.  At the time it seemed to work and I deeply depended on this limiting blessing in order to function well in my difficult work.  Since I would be spending my work day cleaning homes, bathing people, wiping their asses, putting up with their abuse and watching silently with their loved ones as they slowly died, I became entirely reliant on the sacrament of holy communion in order to cope and do well at my job.

I prayed a lot, walked everywhere and enjoyed the silence interior and exterior.  Even with the unspeakable racket my neighbour upstairs' child made with her running and stomping.  Despite the annoyances we became very good friends and sometimes I babysat but very rarely.  My life only began to change noticeably the year I got fired from my job.  I had savings, then unemployment insurance benefits.  That summer began my ministry in the gay clubs and streets downtown.