Chapter Thirty-Five
Special Delivery
Little by little I became Canadian, walking down the street wearing a toque (pronounced "tuke"—Canadian for beanie), relaxed jeans, and a black fleece vest over a long sleeve shirt, eating Purdy’s chocolate, and drinking J.J. Bean or Tim Horton’s coffee. I finally grew comfortable taking buses and trains wherever I needed to go. Proudly, I could recite all the Canadian provinces and their capitals, and sing the Canadian national anthem with confidence, loyalty, and pride. I followed world news instead of just American news, and I went to my first hockey game, where the Canucks beat the Mighty Ducks. (In my heart, I was really cheering for the Mighty Ducks, but I would never admit it at the time. I knew why they had to lose.) I attended Shakespeare plays on the beach as well as all kinds of other community events, including an independent film festival, a mock refugee camp, and a 5k run around Stanley Park.
One local community event I attended every Thursday night was a dinner for the homeless, called Out of the Cold, at the church down the street. In the winter, the dining hall remained open for anyone to sleep inside, hence the name. As the weeks went by, and I sat and chatted with people at dinner on Thursday nights, I learned their names and quirks, who I could or couldn’t talk to, who made sense and who didn’t. I watched them interact with each other and noticed they had their own street-survivalist subculture with norms, customs, and language. Even though I didn’t understand them most of the time, I realized it was because I didn’t live in their subculture.
While hanging out with homeless people was a weird combination of empathy, frustration, and disgust, it was also good for my heart because it forced me to give my time and care to this forgotten segment of society. I chose to help people who were in need of food and shelter, which was good for them and for me, too. When I saw a homeless person, my heart no longer said, “I wonder what his problem is. Probably drugs.” Instead, my heart said, “God, keep my heart soft toward the poor, because I want my heart to be like yours.”
After the dinner, I helped clean up tables and sweep the floors of the dining hall. As I swept, I peeked into the kitchen where I knew I would see a theology professor from Regent Seminary scrubbing pots and pans. I could see his grey hairnet and his blue apron over a white T-shirt. His arms were furiously scrubbing a massive pot in the sink. Round and round he scrubbed as if it were the most important job in the world to feed these people, clean up, and go back home to his family with a soft heart.
“That guy has like four master’s degrees and three doctorate degrees,” Sophia whispered as she wiped down the counters. “He’s here every week, cooking meals and finishing all the dirty dishes.”
“That is so awesome,” I said. That idea fascinated me: It was as if he couldn’t teach students about the kingdom of God unless he lived it too. I never officially met this professor, but I loved his heart for the poor. I loved that God would bring me all the way to Vancouver so one of the things I would experience was to watch this genius professor scrape bits and pieces of food off the plates that fed hungry homeless people on Thursday nights. It was one of the beautiful orchestrations that only God could come up with. It was as if God were showing me, Look, Miriam, my kingdom is here.
While Thursdays were dinner with the homeless, Wednesdays were spaghetti night with my Bible Buddies. The girls would come to the Manse and run downstairs to the basement, where we had an entire room filled with boxes of food that had been donated from a health-food store. Stacks of fruit leather, cases of organic macaroni and cheese, family-size jars of spaghetti sauce, box after box of every shape and size pasta noodle, and other nonperishables. The girls picked out their favorite pasta and sauce, grabbed a few fruit leathers, and headed back upstairs to the kitchen where I was boiling the water for the pasta. We would chat while we cooked, and when the food was ready, we would carry our plates of food carefully down the basement stairs again, and sit and eat our dinner on old brown and plaid sofas.
One night after dinner, while lying on the floor on our stomachs, we colored in Precious Moments coloring books. Kelsey held her picture up proudly. It was a picture of a little Precious Moments baby next to the Easter Bunny.
“This is Miriam when she was a baby,” she said. “And this is Charlie when he was a rabbit.” We burst out laughing and called Charlie to ask him if he used to be a rabbit.
We spent a lot of time on Wednesdays talking, laughing, praying. Sometimes I would take them to buy ice cream or Slurpees, or we would take the Skytrain to the mall.
One night in the spring, I decided to use some of my extra spending money from Charlie to take my Bible Buddies on a small adventure.
“We are going to walk to McDonald’s for dinner tonight!”
“Yeah!” they jumped up and down and cheered like kids do when they get to go to McDonald’s.
“Here is the plan. We are going to walk down to Commercial Drive. Your job is to look for someone who needs dinner. I have enough money for us and one other person who is hungry. So when you see someone who might be hungry, let me know.”
They were really excited and nervous. “What do we say?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll talk. You girls shouldn’t talk to strangers. But you can help me find someone.”
As we approached the corner of E.10th and Commercial, there were four or five people sitting against the wall of a building, with white cups set out for change. Only one person made eye contact with us: a man who had bright eyes with light brown lashes, light brown Jesus-hair, and only one leg. “Him, him!” my Bible Buddies said, tugging on my arm.
“Hello, sir,” I greeted him. He was a few years older than me, wearing a black hoodie, black pants with one empty leg rolled up, and one black combat boot. His crutch was lying across his lap. “Have you had dinner yet?”
“No, actually I haven’t,” he said, looking a bit startled and amazed.
“We were heading to McDonald’s. Can we get you anything?”
“Yes, please.”
“What would you like?”
“I’ll have the Big Mac meal with a Coke,” he said.
“OK, we will be right back!” I said. “By the way, what’s your name?”
“Justin.” He smiled.
We walked into McDonald’s, and the girls started shouting their orders. “Can I have a strawberry shake?” Kelsey asked.
“First, we will bring Justin his dinner. Then we will come back and order for ourselves. Should we get Justin a strawberry shake?”
“Sure!”
They were nervous when we walked back outside. “Will he still be there?”
Then we saw him waiting patiently by the wall. Megan was holding his food, Kelsey his Coke, and Cynthia his strawberry shake.
“Special delivery!” Megan shouted, running over to him, the bag of food swinging.
He looked angelic as he accepted the gifts. There was something about his eyes that made me want to cry and give food to everyone on the street.
“Thanks so much. God bless you guys.”
“God bless you too!” Megan blurted.
I walked back into McDonald’s less hungry than I was before and more filled with something eternal. It was as if I had just looked into the eyes of Jesus himself. It was too much for me, too good to see Megan run to him like that, shouting for joy because she had dinner for a begging, crippled man. We ate and left the restaurant quickly, hoping to see Justin one more time and ask him how he liked his dinner, but he was gone.
At Camp Peace, my Bible Buddies and the other kids wanted to talk about Charlie every day. I told them he was doing great—and he was.
He went to counseling and moved his computer. He planned to get baptized during the summer so I could be there with him.
Months passed by slowly with Charlie far away. I knew he was busy working on his Bible degree, playing music with his band, and making short films with his roommates. But our love grew and grew, in spite of the long distance and the challe
nges between us. We talked over the phone a few times a week and wrote letters as often as we could.
Hi Honey!
There’s a big hockey game tonight, the Canucks vs. Detroit. Seriously, the streets were almost empty after 7 p.m. because everyone is inside watching the game. Sophia says I better hope the Canucks win, or I’ll be living in an unhappy neighborhood!
Did I mention that I love you? I’ve been daydreaming about you today. I am so excited to be with you again in June. I am so excited for what the Lord has for us. I wait eagerly as he determines our steps. Today my heart is like a rainbow. I have a good life.
It is dusk. I love the long evenings here. I can still hear the kids playing outside. The flowers you sent me for our anniversary are still blooming in my room. They’re so cheerful.
Tonight I am going to clean, write some cards, paint, and read. Maybe you’ll call me? I hope so.
Can I tell you something? I am so in love with you. I believe God has given us this extraordinary love. You are a beautiful friend and an extraordinary man—a creative, generous, kind, adventurous, daring, encouraging, God-fearing man.
Miss you.
Love twice, more, and forever,
Miriam
In May, as I was cleaning up after camp one day, I heard someone whistling. I turned around and looked outside. It was Charlie.
“Yeow!” I screamed.
I dropped my books and papers and ran to greet him. He was carrying a small duffel bag and an ice cooler, which he dropped on the ground so he could catch me in his arms.
“What are you doing here?”
“I had to visit you for your birthday!” he said.
“Megan! Kelsey! Cynthia! Come here!” I called to my Bible Buddies, who were still hanging out by the church.
“Charlie’s here!”
Soon all the kids came running, and they jumped on Charlie and tackled him on the grass.
“Charlie, Charlie! You’re here!” the kids screamed.
We all sat on the grass while Charlie entertained the kids.
“What’s in the cooler?” Megan asked.
“Two containers of Nana’s pumpkin pie ice cream.”
“Oh! You brought it on the plane and everything?” I asked, clapping my hands.
“Yep. It’s your birthday treat.”
He opened the cooler. I couldn’t believe it. It was the most special taste of home that he could have brought me—besides Charlie himself.
Sophia came out of the house with spoons for everyone.
After we enjoyed our ice cream, the kids taught Charlie how to play Octopus. When he was too tired to run anymore, he dove onto the grass and the kids tackled him again.
“Play a song!” Megan begged.
“Oh, what song?”
“The Nickel Creek song!”
She knew it was one of my favorites. I ran upstairs to get his guitar.
Charlie sat on the front steps of the house and played “When You Come Back Down.” I couldn’t help crying. He had poured blessings on me. I was overwhelmed with love.
He took me to Nick’s Restaurant for my birthday dinner. We ate ribs and spaghetti, and a violinist serenaded us at our table. After dinner, we walked along Commercial Drive. I squeezed his hand.
“I love having you here with me. When you are with me, I feel like I’m at home.”
“I love being here. I love watching you grow as you sacrifice your own life for those kids every day.”
“I could never do it without your support. Thank you.”
He could only stay for two days. By then I knew the pain of saying goodbye at the airport all too well. We gave each other a kiss on the cheek and a hug. I cried, and Charlie tucked a letter in my pocket as he walked away.
Dearest Miriam,
Because you have given your heart to God he has sweetened your life in return. He has done this so that others might taste goodness by knowing you. There is something about you that God has allowed me to taste, something that I need. It is measures of His goodness and sweet grace that I would never have known or tasted of God if I hadn’t taken the chance of loving you. Thank you for being who you are, bold and eager to share with me more of who Jesus is. Even from afar you are sweet.
I give God all that I have, including my hope and desire to love Him with you.
You are everything that I have ever dreamed of. Loving you is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Any pain or hurt I forget, knowing that this is the beginning of a great love.
In Him I love you best,
Charlie
Charlie had hidden Starbucks gift cards, phone cards, love notes and spending money around my bedroom, and I found the little surprises every few days.
It is him
He enters every part of my life
And sings
Dances
And paints
Himself next to me
And into who I am
His gifts for good in my life
Speak his name
To his music I dance
On his paper I write
In my guitar is his company
His pumpkin candles scent my room
Robed in his gifts
I waltz with him
It is him