“Street People” (continued)

The entry right before this one was mostly written 2 months ago. I didn't get around to posting it until this afternoon. It was interesting for me to read it a couple months later and note some differences in my feelings about the subject.

I feel much more comfortable when I cross paths with street people than I did 2 months ago. If we're walking, we often get a friendly wave from people sitting on the curb at the bottom of the drive. Some of the conflict within me has died down. In all honesty, I'm not sure if this is a good thing. It's easier, but maybe not better.

When we visited Red Lake last winter, I observed a couple public places that seemed to accommodate street people. One store I went into had a chair right inside the door. I saw a man come in and just sit there for awhile. While I was in the mission's office, a man came in and used the washroom then left again. I talked about it later with Twila. I thought it was neat that people seemed to be okay with the street people and even let them use their facilities when they needed to. Twila's response was, "Yes, but maybe that's not always good." Meaning that maybe people in Red Lake just accept the street people as a part of life and get used to having them around, but don't really try to do much to help them or interact with them. Maybe we (and yes, I now include myself in this "we") are just too comfortable with the way things are. So I think that's a part of my lower level of discomfort with street people. I still notice when there is a police car or an ambulance at the bottom of our drive. I still pay attention when I hear a ruckus from down there. I still make the boys stay close to the house when they're playing outside. But it's not such a big deal now.

The other side of it is just that I feel more comfortable with the people that are there. So that's okay.

It took a long time for Eli and Evan to notice anything amiss at the corner. I was surprised that they didn't ask questions and didn't seem too concerned with loud yelling or laughing from the rock wall. But one day when Eli disobeyed and went behind a neighboring building, out of our sight, I decided to explain our concerns to him. I wanted him to understand why we wanted him to stay close to the house without scaring him. So I explained that the people who hang out down the hill sometimes drink too much alcohol. They're not bad people and they are people that God loves, but they have some problems. I explained that when people drink too much alcohol, they sometimes act scary or do really crazy things. They can't make good decisions. Eli seemed to understand and not get too freaked out. Apparently the words I used stuck with him because awhile later we passed a man that is a regular here. Eli said, "There's my best guy that drinks too much alcohol." So it would seem that he has favorites.

In the winter the mission does a soup kitchen 2 days a week. I'm hoping to be pretty involved in that. I admit that a lot of my motivation is selfish. I think that if I aquaint myself with these individuals, I will feel even more comfortable. And it gives me a feeling of security if the people hanging out at the corner know the house I live in and know me. And, of course, if I'm doing something maybe I can feel good about that and better about all the conflicts this subject brings up.

When I worked at the homeless shelter in El Paso I loved it. It was so good for me to be friends with people whose daily reality I could not even comprehend. And it felt good to care for people and to be cared for by them. (Trust me, if you want to be pampered and fussed over and get lots of advice, be pregnant and hang out with Mexican women. I just ate it up.) So I look forward to relating to people who are so different from me and yet with whom I have my humanity and all that goes with that in common.

“Street People”

There is something that I haven't blogged about yet. I haven't talked about it for several reasons. First of all, it brings up an incredible amount of discomfort and inner conflict for me. If I talk about it, maybe the inconsistencies and prejudices in me will become too obvious. Another reason is that it's unpleasant and I don't want people to worry about us or see our life here in this light.

We live on a bit of a hill, out of the main part of town. Our property is behind a little strip mall. There are three houses and the mission office on this hill- all owned by the mission. It's a peaceful area with both bush and town around it. It's also a place where a lot of "street people" hang out. I say "street people" because I don't know what else to call them. They aren't all homeless. I can't call them "drunks" because although many are often obviously and obnoxiously intoxicated, they aren't always all drunk. After several weeks here, I was able to recognize some of the regulars. But there are others that come in from a reserve for a week or two. Some have homes in town. A few stay at the shelter- at least in the winter. Some work at tourist camps (where alcohol is not allowed) as fishing guides during the summer and are street people the rest of the year.

They don't hang out close to our house, but toward the bottom of the hill. We pass them every time we go in and out. I can clearly see them and sometimes hear them from our house. There are footpaths that go through the bush, so we see a lot of traffic. There is also a low rock wall that people stay at for much of the day. (See the photo. The ravens are where people often sit.) They sit there or lay there. Sometimes we see police cars down there and a policeman talking to the group of people. I've seen two policemen literally dragging a man to a car. He wasn't resisting and they didn't seem overly forceful- just taking an intoxicated and uncooperative man to the car. I've seen men start shoving and getting angry. I've seen a man trying to help his intoxicated friend stand up and walk, then getting frustrated and kicking at him. I hear loud laughter from the house. We see these same people walking around town, visibly drunk. They are also the ones that are visited by the ambulance around town.

I'm concerned for my boys- not so much for their safety, but what they may end up witnessing. I have been told that the street people would tend to be kind to children and that they aren't generally violent toward outsiders. They seem to keep to themselves. First Nations people have a long history of being oppressed. When I drive by, they get out of my way and don't pay much attention to me. I can almost sense their feeling of inferiority. They won't usually "bother" a white person. I feel ashamed that my feelings of general safety around these people come at the cost of their personal sense of worth and value. Their history and now culture of oppression has made me feel fairly comfortable that they would only have problems with each other and not with me as a white person. I think I'm fairly safe because I'm on a higher, more untouchable level.

One night I was trying to leave in my car. An ambulance was in the way so I sat and waited. They were trying to get an old man who had been drinking and having chest pains to go to the hospital with them. I was sitting there with my windows open and down a little hill in some trees I could hear a group of drunk people. They were shoving and flirting.

Another night I was at the store right in front of us. I was in the dressing room and I could hear someone talking loudly to "Sandra." Sandra was insisting in a croupy voice that she was fine and didn't want to go to the hospital. The paramedic was being very kind, but insisting that Sandra go with her. The paramedic said, "I saw you in the hospital last night. Did you get the pills for your cough today? You went out drinking instead?" When I left the dressing room, I could see another drunk person being led to the ambulance followed, eventually, by Sandra.

I finished my shopping and was standing at the counter to pay. I was close to the door. I heard the door open and glanced over. There stood a tall native man with blood all over his face and no shirt on. Shocked, I looked away. (Good Christian that I am.) He said to all of us, "I want a t-shirt." I was frozen. After an uncomfortably long silence, the cashiers started talking to him. "Stuart! What happened to you? Get him a tissue." The girl behind me in line had gone back to the clothes racks and pulled off a t-shirt. She kept the price tag and tried to give him the t-shirt. He was so out of it that he hardly knew to take the shirt. He was trying to give her a $20 bill while she tried to tell him that she would buy it. The cashiers tried to get Stuart to sit down and put a paper towel against the gash on his nose. He said that he had gotten into a fight. They helped him put the t-shirt on and called 911. The woman on the phone said, "Stuart, were you assaulted? Who fought with you?" His answer was, "I did." Finally they had him sitting with a shirt on and a paper towel against his injury. His bloody money was lying on the counter. The cashier got back to taking my money. I left. As I walked around the building, down the drive where these people hang out, there was Stuart's bloody shirt lying on the ground right in my path. For some reason, seeing his shirt right there where I needed to walk to get back to my house really shook me. First of all, I was ashamed and confused about my reaction in the store. Then I was angry. What if I would have left the store 7 minutes earlier? Would I have found myself right in the middle of someone's violent exchange? And what if I would have had my kids with me? What will they have to see? How am I supposed to think about all of this? What is the Christ-like response? And if I knew what it was, would I be brave enough to do it? How does being a woman and having children play into it?

It actually seems hopeless to me. These people are caught in generations of addiction. Those chains are so strong. If I am friendly, will I soon have people on my doorstep asking for things? I certainly don't want them to notice my children.

In all honesty, and it's horrifying to put this into words, I don't see them as truly valuable. I mean, I know they are, but are they really as valuable as everyone else? Are they truly real people like I am?

So much conflict within me on this. What appear to be conflicting "truths." I don't know how I need to respond to this. I try to pray and believe that there is hope. I still don't talk to them.

Fall!

Eli and Evan got to enjoy the fall tradition of playing in the leaves in our yard.



After playing for awhile, we made supper over the fire with Kendra.

Most of the trees that our going to lose their leaves are bare by now. I am a bit sad about that, but it still looks beautiful around here because of all the evergreens.

We spent several hours outside today. We made a fire and roasted hot dogs. Kendall even got a grouse, but we didn't roast it while we were out. Then he made bows for the boys to shoot their sticks with.

And he talked me into shooting the gun. Unfortunately, I cannot wink with my left eye, so I had to shoot left-handed in order to line up the sights. Not to brag, but my shot still hit only 2 inches away from the bulls-eye. That could have taken out a grouse.

Eli's Thoughts

Last night I started a class for foster parenting. At this point, we aren't planning on doing long-term fostering. But we are interested in doing respite care and emergency care. Respite care would be like babysitting for other foster families if they need childcare for an afternoon or weekend. In emergency care the child would only be with us up to 10 days. We could get a call in the middle of the night, but would only have the child until a longer-term foster home is found.

With our kids the ages they are, we would only have the youngest children with us. I'm thinking age 3 max. I get slightly freaked out when I think about being up all night with a scared, crying baby or toddler. I've heard a childcare worker talk about talking care of babies who are drinking formula for the first time and going through withdrawal because they aren't getting their usual alcohol through breast milk. So, we'll see how it goes. Taking this class doesn't lock us into anything, so with that freedom, we're going through with it.

Anyway, I missed the first 3 classes when I was in Indiana, so today I was watching a video to catch up on some of what I missed. Eli watched the last bit of it with me. When it ended he wondered what all that was about. So I reminded him about Marcus who was next door. I explained how some parents sometimes hurt their kids or have big problems so that they can't take care of their kids. I said that sometimes kids aren't safe in their homes, so they need a safe place to stay while their parents work on their problems.

Eli reminded me that sometimes I get grouchy and I reassured him that me and Daddy never punch him or do things like that. The whole subject was, of course, rather heavy. He got very serious and somehow his train of thought moved on to other things. He talked about how he didn't want to make more friends and that he would rather go to his cousins. He said he didn't want to make anymore black or brown friends, only white ones- unless it was a baby. (Not exactly my proudest moment as a mother.) He went on, looking like he was close to tears. Then, with much emotion, Eli said, "It's just hard on me...about the baby...Cause I just want a baby!" Whew! Not sure where all that came from! While I don't want to take it more seriously than I should, it makes me wonder what is going on inside that boy's head! I suspect there is a fair amount of emotion that he doesn't know how to express.

We'll keep working with him... Any ideas?

So Proud

That's me that's proud. Of my husband, Kendall Hochstedler, R.N. I missed his first day of work, so he indulged me this morning by letting me snap a picture of him on his way out the door.

He was able to start at the hospital the week that I left for Indiana. It was disappointing for us that he wasn't able to work as a nurse before now, but we can definitely see good things in that. He was able to work construction with someone he really liked. For the most part, he enjoyed that job. And as I look back, I know that I needed a lot of support in the first weeks here. So if he would have been working long hours, working weekends, and also needing support with starting a new job, well... we'll just say that it might not have worked out so well.

So we're happy he's doing what he worked so hard at preparing for. And I'm proud.

Overheard

We put the boys to bed. After just a bit I heard them arguing loudly. I stood outside their door to eavesdrop. They were arguing about who should call for us. They know they're not supposed to keep calling or come out or they will get their special thing (moose or blue blanket)taken away. Eli was not being a very nice big brother and was calling his little brother a chicken and telling him to wrestle him.

Finally Evan was fed up and said, "House dog!" (A put-down they picked up from Lady and the Tramp.)

Eli was not easily outdone: "Fart ball house dog onery coconut poop pee poo poo!"

Well that ticked Evan off: "Don't call me poop!"

Eli didn't want his skills to be underestimated: "I didn't call you just poop!"

True...

By the way, soon after that I intervened. I admit that my admonishment came out along with some laughter. But they did get quiet and go to sleep after that. So all is well on the homefront tonight.

Happy Thanksgiving

Today is Thanksgiving in Canada. It's cold and rainy, but we've been pleasantly surprised with a full weekend. We got back from Indiana late Thursday night. So Friday we slept in and then Kendall made waffles for breakfast. We spent the day cleaning up and went grouse hunting in the evening. (No luck this time.) It was a good day, but by Friday night Kendall and I were both battling some depression. For one thing, Saturday was opening day for moose season. That had a big effect on Kendall. He isn't able to hunt moose this year because although he is a citizen, he isn't considered a resident for a few more months. So it would have been very expensive for him to go. I knew Thanksgiving was coming up and Kendra was pulling together a get-together for people who want to and don't have another place to go. Well, it turned out that 50 people responded favorably to her email. So the only place she could have it was the church basement. That was really disappointing to me because I was so looking forward to being with a smaller group (whoever it would have been) in a home setting. And I was picturing it being during the day. But now it's more like a church potluck in the fellowship hall. That can feel fairly lonely. So Friday night the weekend looked empty except for a big church get-together Monday night.

But Saturday ended up being a great day. Kendall and the boys cleaned up some stuff outside. Then we packed a lunch and went canoeing. It was supposed to rain, but the rain held off the whole time we were out. Part of the time the sun was almost shining. It was fairly chilly and by the time we got back to the car, the boys were very cold. Eli was talking about how cold he was and said, "I wonder what God's up to!" Then we drove around looking for grouse again and revisited our favorite old house site. It's a place where apparently there was a house before. The house is gone, but old windows are stacked against trees. There are sheets of metal lying around. We found a birdcage, remnants of a baby crib, several bird houses, fencing, an old cooking pot, an outhouse on its side and lots of other things that are just fun to look at. There are a lot of license plates from the 60s and 70s. So we took a couple more windows. I have some crafty plans for them. That evening we made a pizza and joined Kendra, Dave and Sarah at Kendra's house. We sang happy birthday to the boys and gave them a cake Kendall had made for them. After supper we played Settlers and Eli and Evan played with Kendra's toys. It turned out to be a really good day.

Sunday after church a family invited us over for Thanksgiving dinner after church. We ended up being there all afternoon. They have a son that Eli and Evan had a blast with. In the evening Keith and Jenni called and invited us over for pizza. So we ended up having a very full and fun day.

By Sunday night it had been a surprisingly good weekend so far. We had gotten invited 2 places that day and I was so grateful for that. I really felt like God was providing for us… so don't ask me why I had a major meltdown then. Actually, I have a few ideas. First of all, like I mentioned earlier, this was opening weekend for moose season. Kendall can't hunt, but he would have loved to go out with some other guys. We had both made the decision that he wouldn't this weekend, but I knew it was hard on him. At the risk of turning every northern hunter against me, it just felt overwhelming for me to have him gone during this weekend. We had just been apart for a week and I had a hard time saying goodbye in Indiana. Eli seemed somewhat fragile for the first day or two we were back. It just seemed like family time was what we needed. (In my defense, we are planning that Kendall will join some other men for a moose hunt in a couple weeks. He will probably be gone overnight then and a week or two after that he is planning on going deer hunting in another community. That trip he will most likely be gone 2 or 3 nights.) So I'm not all against moose hunting- This particular weekend just looked long and empty and lonely. It may sound silly, but it looked like more than I could do to have him gone. As a side note, this hunting subject has always been a difficult one for us. (Some of you have listened to extensive discussion from us on this subject.) I know it's important to Kendall- it's much more than killing a deer (or goose or grouse or moose or bear or whatever it may be). It's a bigger experience than that. I respect its importance for Kendall, but don't really understand it. Somehow this subject usually brings up a mixture of guilt and anger for me. On one hand, I want Kendall to be able to hunt. It's good for him. Being outside hunting makes him happy. But I have such a hard time understanding the pull it has for him. And sometimes it just looks so big to have him gone on a Saturday or an evening. So I want him to go for his sake and yet I don't want to be left at home taking care of the boys and doing all the same things I do all day long. Ahhh!!! To sum it all up…Pray for us! It's hard to accept that this is still a struggle for us after 8 years of being married. But I do think we're learning through it, even if it's still one of our touchy subjects.

So, that was one reason for my meltdown last night- I felt bad that Kendall hadn't gone hunting and afraid that he was angry at me. Also, it was probably remnants of my feelings about going home to Indiana and then coming home to Red Lake. In a way, I was excited to dig into life in Red Lake again. We had a good time at both places we had spent time at yesterday. I'd say we were fairly comfortable with both families, but of course it wasn't like family or friends we had known for years. Like I told Kendall, it was one thing to hang out with new friends in Goshen. Then we knew we could be with family or old friends the next night. Kendall agreed and said, "Here this is all there is." For now. I realize that. And it has gotten a lot better. But how I would love to be sitting in Grandma and Grandpa's or Nana and Papa's living room on Thanksgiving Day. So there are a couple things that went into my meltdown last night.

I'm okay now. I think tears are helpful every now and then. I don't cry easily, so maybe this year with its happiness and sadness is loosening up my capacity to cry. :)

This morning Kendall took the boys grouse hunting (no luck this time either) and I decided to stay home and clean up the messy house. It was nice to have some quiet time and I even fit in a conversation with my mom and a walk by myself. During Evan's nap Kendall played Legos with Eli and I went over to Kendra's apartment and played piano. Now Kendall and I are going to play Rummikub while the boys watch a movie then I'll make sweet potatoes for the dinner tonight. So we're okay and I'm hopeful that struggle with hunting will serve to make us stronger. But I was serious about pray for us. :) Even if I put a smiley face there.