Spiritual Autobiography 3

I struggled to live the Christian life. There were other kids at school curious about what was happening to me. I hardly could figure it out myself. There were obstacles, of course, and I did get caught in one very unhealthy situation with an individual who lived not far from us, but that lasted just a couple of weeks. I continued visiting the Jesus People downtown, openly defying my mother. My father, of course, was not around, and we never saw each other, and really he didn't seem to care. My brother was scandalized and could scarcely be civil. I would visit them in their coffee house, the Shepherd's Call, in a long-ago demolished building on W. Broadway between Fir and Pine streets. I would also visit people in coffee shops downtown, some of the Jesus People when they were out "witnessing", as they liked to call it. I felt very privileged and blessed that these kind and very loving people would accept me into their number. they were like a compensatory, benevolent older sibling and I think they helped heal a lot of the damage that my brother had inflicted on me. I felt deeply honoured how much some of them would also confide in me about their lives, their pasts. their struggles, their dreams. I was still a child and these were all young adults. I felt unconditionally accepted, even loved. I also became much more aware of cultural and racial diversity, following a childhood dominated by two racist white parents. A lot of the Jesus People were French Canadians, and their friendship taught me much. The pastor of the Fountain Chapel was a middle aged African-Canadian woman named Sister Ann Walker. I remember chatting with her on a comfy old sofa in the basement of the church. I found her kind, warm and compassionate. She also talked to me about the gift of tongues, since she was Pentecostal, and she thought the experience would be helpful to my faith. I didn't know this at the time, but Sister Walker was also one of the few survivors of Hogan's Alley, the largely black community that was levelled to build the Georgia and Dunsmuir viaducts in that area, and this also helps me understand why many in the congregation were black. I also came to know different First Nations people: a girl my age who was visiting a friend in a hostel where I was also visiting some new friends, as well as a woman in the Jesus' People, Rosalie, from the Northwest Territories. She was an incredible singer, and used to perform Christian folksongs along with other gifted singers at the Shepherd's Call coffee house. I was being interwoven, a soft gray cotton thread, into this rich and highly coloured tapestry of diverse people of faith and Christian love. Coming from an abusive home, an unwanted child, this was like dying and going to heaven. It couldn't last, and of course it didn't, but this was just the beginning of a life full of challenge and blessing and constant learning, as my life began to really open to the love of God, or should I say, to the love who is God.