Surviving The Fall, 10

I was having coffee with a friend the other day, Friday (well, he was having tea, and I was drinking decaf, since it was getting late in the day) but the word resilience came up once or twice in our conversation. For me a very relevant and powerful word, as this is one quality that really seems to define me. I wasn't always resilient, mind you, and there was a period where I let everything slip for a while, and became homeless. I was in a state of despair, I believe. I could no longer survive at my occupation, home support work, for the simple reason that there were no longer enough hours to pay the rent on and my employers, cowing to their corporate bosses, had nothing but excuses to offer. So, after six years of clustering indignities, I left. Without any other employment to transition to. I was not eligible for unemployment insurance, because the criteria had been tightened and restricted over the years, and I was already traumatized from previous experience on welfare and didn't want to go back there. I was not thinking properly. I was still processing the six years of my usually nightmarish experiences of Christian community and street ministry, and there just wasn't anyone around interested in helping me transition back into ordinary life. The church I had been connected to was generally hostile towards me, as they really hated our community and ministry, and I had few friends, and no one who seemed able or interested in helping me get through this. I tried to trust god for my provision, since I really had no sense of vocational direction, and felt completely unqualified and unable to do even basic labour. The loss of my community had been very traumatic for me. And no one, not even I, seemed to know this. I somehow got by for the next year. My father helped me with some of my rent, as did a couple of friends. There were art sales, but never quite enough. Eventually I was evicted for not having rent. My father in another town, and my friends in Vancouver, all took turns sheltering me in their homes for almost a year. I continued to paint and sold some of my work. I also did some housecleaning. There were certain things that I was not willing to let go of: 1. my ability to work with the materials and resources at hand; 2. my personal care and hygiene; 3. certain valuable books (I just carried them with me in my duffle bag; 4. my personal dignity. Which is to say, that I was determined not to become street homeless, to not end up sleeping out on the sidewalk or in a homeless shelter. I somehow got through this, and I think that my obstinate refusal to compromise on certain personal standards helped me get through. I was able to bounce back, even when I wasn't able to. And there were always those last minute, eleventh hour rescues, and they happened with such frequency and with such regularity, that I have to give credit where credit is due. It was the hand of God helping, guiding and protecting me all the way through that labyrinth. He did not prevent me from becoming homeless, and really I have only myself to blame for that. But he did create the circumstances and conditions where I could learn some lessons and extract the maximum good from my situation before moving on into recovering a sense of a rewarding and responsible life. I have no idea why I am so resilient. In my work with people with mental health issues, addictions and housing challenges, I have long wondered, why them and not me? This is an answer I still have no answer for and I can only think of those familiar old words, there but for the grace of God go you and I.