Archives for posts with tag: A Community Without Walls

Today is an exciting day. Today we picked up our new outreach vehicle, a purchase made possible through the generosity of an anonymous donor. Today we further embrace that we are a community without our own building. We might not have walls, but we have wheels!

The Dale builds and supports relationships with people, many of whom are accustomed to being marginalized due to poverty, and all of its resulting challenges. During the COVID-19 pandemic we are taking action to ensure that people with these vulnerabilities receive tangible care in the form of food, supplies (including PPE, sleeping bags, blankets, etc.) and emotional care (phone calls, physically distant visits, etc.) 

COVID-19 has exposed how great the social divide is in this city and throughout our world. People who are under-housed have lost regular access to basic necessities. As an organization without our own building, The Dale has to creatively respond to our community’s needs, especially as we face the second wave of the virus, and winter. Of the five partner buildings that The Dale uses for its programming, only one has remained open through the pandemic. As a result, The Dale has identified the need to focus on outdoor outreach, including creating “drop-in” spaces around the neighbourhood by setting up chairs and outdoor heaters. By doing this we will be able to nurture relationships, discern people’s ongoing needs, and distribute food and supplies.

In keeping with The Dale’s philosophy, the emphasis will be on service provision that is rooted in relationship. We believe that this van offers:

Increased flexibility in terms of where to run a drop-in.

Increased capacity to assist community members with moving into housing. 

Increased capacity for pick-up and delivery of food and other resources. 

Increased visibility for The Dale around the neighbourhood. 

While this decision has been prompted by COVID-19, we know a vehicle will offer long-term benefit to The Dale (in fact, it has been a long-time dream). We have prioritized outdoor outreach since 2012, during which we have built a high level of trust with the community. Our commitment to being present on the street-level has been deeply held for years and will continue with or without a pandemic. 

We are grateful to our donor, Nigel at Formula Ford Lincoln Sales, and Pierre at AON Insurance (thank you all for answering my limitless questions) for bringing this project to life. Now to work, but first we celebrate!

Since March The Dale has been serving meals to-go, all outside. We set up outside of 201 Cowan Avenue. Every six feet along the sidewalk is a strip of bright yellow tape, a visual reminder that a line is now necessary. Sometimes the number of people snakes all the way to Queen Street, around the corner and down the block.

We miss not being able to share a meal around a table. The Dale is motivated to build and nurture participatory community, and we lament how the pandemic has impacted this. Having said that, there are no shortage of important and oftentimes beautiful moments that happen as we interact in line and around the neighbourhood on the street.

We can always hear this person coming, because their wheelchair has a loose shock and a missing wheel. Though in obvious need, it took some time for this person to feel safe to ask for or receive help. It was a long series of fairly short interactions that led to a significant conversation, one that has led to putting a plan in action for repairs to be completed on their mobility device.

Laid out on the sidewalk, we stopped to make sure this person was breathing. Fortunately, we were able to have a bit of a conversation and provide some water. It was clear that the day had been a very difficult one so far. At one point he reached out to grab a hand, so hungry for a brief, healthy touch. In that moment of connection, he spoke words of encouragement to each of us. We left feeling like everyone involved had just received a gift.

Some people in the line are very new to The Dale and have no context for how life in this community looked pre-COVID. It is fun to tell stories of drop-ins and open mic nights, of cooking together and playing board games, of making music and sharing prayer requests. It is encouraging to hear the new folks telling their own stories of The Dale: of how good a certain meal was, of making new friends, of eating freezies together in the heat of the summer, of discovering that we meet for church in a parking lot, and of how the bad weather doesn’t stop us from being “open”.

One day a person brought us two bags full of plastic bags, having noticed that we need them to hold all the things we are giving away. Someone else painted us a picture. Another gifted me a used tripod for my daughter, knowing that she is studying photography. These presents remind us that everyone is built to both give and receive, a value that cannot even be quashed by our current circumstances.

The poet John O’Donahue says that, “A life that wishes to honour its own possibility has to learn too how to integrate the suffering of dark and bleak times into a dignity of presence. Letting go of old forms of life, a tree practises hospitality towards new forms. It balances perennial energies of winter and spring within its own living bark. The tree can reach towards the light, endure wind, rain and storm, precisely because it is rooted.”

The Dale wants to be such a tree. Our roots are deep. We know who we are. We believe in what we do. We will be in the neighbourhood rain, snow, or shine. While the line is not our preference, we will seek to make it as Dale-ish as possible. There is grief, yes AND God is making a way through the sadness. For all of this we are grateful.

It is hard to believe that we are nearing the end of another year. As I reflect on all that has transpired during 2020, I am filled with a variety of emotions, ranging from sadness to joy, anxiety to peace, and everything in between. Overwhelmingly though, I feel a sense of gratitude. As a community we have remained intact despite the distance. We have leaned in to the opportunity to creatively address the limitations of COVID-19. There have been tears shed and laughs shared, our refrain often being, “we’re making it work!” or “we’re doing it!”

One constant has been change. We have needed to pivot more than once. Our set-up for giving out meals has been tweaked and then tweaked some more. Meagan has returned from her mat leave. Olivia got married. And most recently, Pete completed his contract with The Dale- we are grateful for and wish the best of things for Pete and his family during this time of transition.

As much as I love finding the words to describe the journey The Dale has and continues to be on, I think pictures can really help bring it to life. This is a vibrant place, one that is nurtured through the support of a very broad network of people. These pictures might be familiar to you, or maybe this is a first glimpse into the neighbourhood. Either way, I invite you to take a look.

Monday Lunch
Prepping meals and groceries for the community
Sunday
Ross and Sheila (not pictured) getting ready to help with deliveries
A community member’s first garden since being recently housed
Friends
Thursday Breakfast
The Dale Devotional- The Beatitudes
Jahn’s Memorial
Let’s do it
Rose
Where many friends are currently living
Pete, Meagan, Erinn, Joanna, Olivia

I had to drive somewhere today. I turned on the radio, just in time to hear a favourite Vinyl Cafe story about the fictional character, Morley. In it, Morley is described as a lover of fall. But, says the narrator, fall can be a “perilous partner”- for if winter is the warm hearth, summer sweet sorrow, spring the eternal optimist, then autumn is the season of wistfulness. It holds on until winter’s arrival, producing a kind of melancholy in the process.

This description of the autumn resonates with me at the moment. I think all weekend I have been feeling a keen sense of nostalgia, one that makes me both smile and weep.

Yesterday was my Dad’s birthday. He has been gone since 2008, but October 12th will always be the day he burst into the world. On this past weekend in 2008 my Mom came to our house for the first time in four and a half years, years spent exclusively in the hospital. She couldn’t eat any food through her mouth anymore, so instead we had what affectionately came to be called an “aroma buffet”. I still expect her to roll up the ramp to our back door, even though she too is gone.

The Dale did not get to go on our annual fall retreat this year. However, we did gather on Sunday for a church service. We met outdoors. It called me back to the days when we first became a church without walls (literally). As I looked around at the community, I was struck by how far we’ve come; how may seasons we have weathered together. Sitting in that parking lot, some of us wrapped in hand knit blankets, a vase-full of sunflowers on the altar, surrounded by the sound of the wind, I pictured a Phoenix rising out of the ashes, an image that I have returned to frequently to describe the journey of The Dale.

I got lost in a box of photos recently. Pictures of big family gatherings for turkey and potatoes, me and my cousins playing, little Cate, family from Newfoundland out for a walk to admire the fall colours. I was reminded of an October weekend spent in Killarney when I must have been 8 or 9. We decided to hike the Chikanishing Trail on a very wet day, except I had no boots. To the rescue: some plastic bags and rubber bands. So many memories of this time of year.

I have much to be grateful for in my past, I also have much to be grateful for right now. My uncle gave me a call over the weekend; we got to see my brother, sister-in-law, nephews and niece; Cate is settling in to university; Dion is doing well; The Dale community is still a phoenix; I have family who are friends and friends who are like family; I get to live and work in a city I love; I am known and loved by the Creator.

Once the story on the radio came to an end, I spent the remainder of my drive lost in remembrances and filled with gratitude. Like autumn, I am holding on. The colours are vibrant and the air is crisp. It’s a perfect time to wear a sweater. And, while the winter may be coming, I keep reminding myself that there is always the promise of spring.

News From The Dale:

Joanna Moon becomes the Lead Community Worker at The Dale.

The Dale staff team is now five people, an all time high! As a flatter organization, we collectively generate ideas, plans and goals. At the same time, we inhabit different roles. In order to celebrate and name the role that Joanna has grown into over the years, we are pleased to announce that she is now “Lead Community Worker”.

Meagan Knight completes her maternity leave and returns to work in October.

Nearly a year ago we announced the arrival of Charlotte, Meagan and Ian’s beloved child. Now Meagan is preparing to reintegrate at The Dale, beginning on October 13th. We are so looking forward to having her back!

Olivia Dower and Grant Scott to marry on October 12.

Though the journey to the wedding has been made challenging due to COVID-19, Olivia and Grant’s day is now right around the corner. While the community cannot be there in person, we are certainly there in spirit. Please join us in showering this couple with love.

The Dale meets on a Sunday afternoon under a blue sky.

One of the most difficult things about this year is how it has impacted our ability to gather. Last Sunday a small group met under sunshine and a blue sky to sit in silence, pray, hear Scripture, pass peace, and take communion. Because we do not have a building of our own, we will continue doing this as long as the weather allows (and then we’ll come up with another plan, because pivoting is our middle name).

Meals continue to be offered for take-away every Monday and Thursday.

Anyone needing a meal is invited to receive one every Monday at 1 pm and Thursday at 10 am from the front of 201 Cowan Avenue. We have frozen meals for people with the means to reheat, and heated meals for those who do not. While the line can be long, we work hard to make it go as quickly as possible. Along the way, we prioritize connecting well with one another, developing new relationships and nurturing those we already have.

Recently at The Dale Ministries someone remarked, “I don’t completely understand what is going on here, but I know I want to be a part of it”. What this new person immediately noticed was a place where all people are welcomed and invited to become not just acquaintances, but friends. When your normal experience is being marginalized, being treated as a friend is life changing. 

We want everyone to learn about what is going on at The Dale. And so, let’s go on a quick tour through who we are and what a week in our life looks like. 

The Dale values all people, while making intentional space for those who are dealing with poverty, addiction and mental health challenges. We invite everyone into full participation of all that we do, fostering opportunities to both give and receive. Together we are learning what it means to love God and our neighbour. As a church and community organization without our own walls, we rely on the outdoors and partnerships with other buildings to run our programming. Our well-established nomadic routine allows people to know where to find us and when. 

Each Sunday we receive a delivery of food from Second Harvest, out of which we determine a menu for our Monday Lunch Drop-In. Monday is our largest gathering, one where over one hundred people share a hot, nutritious meal. On Tuesdays you will find us in the Coffee Corner of a Thrift Store for a time of conversation, snacks and a board game. In the evening a group meets at another location to discuss and study the Bible. Wednesday afternoons and some evenings are spent walking through the neighbourhood in order to connect with people and offer support where needed. Thursday mornings we run a breakfast and art-making drop-in at a Health Centre. Sunday afternoons we set apart for our church service. Sprinkled through the week are opportunities to pastorally care for people: buying groceries for someone who is housebound, visiting a person in hospital, accompanying a friend to an important appointment. 

Since 2012, The Dale has seen steady growth. We have worked hard to develop partnerships, build a strong Board of Directors, generate financial support, cultivate relationships, and even expand our staff team. We believe that God has and continues to lead the way for The Dale. 

Our desire to love and serve our community runs deep. At this time, we would like to invite you to consider supporting the important work of The Dale. The reality is that as we grow, so does the financial burden. Your gift, coming at this time, will not only strengthen our current programming, but enable us to develop new activities and additional supports for people. 

We hope and pray that you are encouraged by the story of The Dale. We are heartened by the network of people who surround us with such care, either through volunteering, making a gift, being together in a community activity, staying in touch, offering encouragement, or praying for us. 

We are grateful for all your goodwill and support. Thank you for participating with us on this incredible journey. 

In peace and hope, 


CLICK HERE TO GIVE: https://www.thedale.org/donate/

The Dale Ministries is a Registered Charitable Organization. Tax Receipts are issued once a year. 

I arrive at Parkdale Queen West Community Health Centre at 9:30 am, carrying a bag of groceries: an extra-large carton of eggs, a mound of oranges, a box of pancake mix, and a small bottle of real maple syrup that was donated by a community member. I briefly struggle to balance the food and my backpack so that I can open the door to the room we use for our Thursday drop-in.

Moments later another member of The Dale arrives. He is originally from Syria, having sought refuge here in Canada. He greets me with broken (yet rapidly improving) English and a light kiss on both cheeks. We busy ourselves in the kitchen, as he is our bi-weekly cook. I put the coffee on while he organizes the food.

Meagan, Joanna and I gather around a set of three tables, pushed together like a big rectangle. We are slowly joined by others. Some decide to colour, as we have a number of colouring books to choose from. Others share stories about their day. Collectively we laugh and listen, occasionally sitting in quiet.

I leave the drop-in mid-way through because another community member needs a pastoral visit. He is very sick and likely close to death. I walk into his darkened room and together with another friend, pray. It is a short, sacred visit. We both say, “I love you” before I leave to return to the drop-in.

Upon my return I hear that someone at the table is having a particularly rough day. Sometimes this means our space becomes not safe for others, and so deliberate intervention is needed. This can be one of the most challenging parts of this work: having to explain to someone why their behaviour is inappropriate, and that the consequence is having to leave. Today it is done tenderly and carefully by Joanna and Kim, a long-time community member and outreach team worker.

Throughout the remainder of the drop-in I talk with people: conversation, followed by conversation. Some need to discuss very difficult life circumstances and ask what kind of support is available, others just need to vent, a few want to share some good news, including how they believe God is taking care of them in surprising ways. I get repeatedly asked how I am too, often with eyes full of concern and care.

Eventually dishes get done, art supplies get packed up and returned to a storage room, our coffee and other pantry items get placed in a bin that lives in one corner of the fridge, and we slowly make our way to the front lobby to say goodbye. Only on this day a group of us are going to celebrate a community member’s birthday by going out for Chinese food, a gathering that provokes joy and is a lot of fun.

I rush away to a conference call about an upcoming conference where I will sit on a panel to discuss mental health challenges, something all people are touched by in one way or another. As I close my computer after the call finishes, I reflect on my day. I have the opportunity on a near daily basis to touch and see and hear and smell and feel so many different things.

Today I breathed in the aroma of breakfast food being cooked by a friend for a whole room full of people, many he doesn’t know. I touched the close veil of death. I heard people share so transparently and vulnerably that I was challenged to do the same. I was hit with a wave of pride at seeing The Dale team in action. I became excited about the conference in May. And I watched the birthday friend glow as we sang happy birthday, ate chicken balls, and belly laughed about the silliest things.

This is a day in my life at The Dale.


The Dale has no walls of its own, unless you count the tiny post office box we rent. This does not mean we place a low value on buildings. Quite the contrary. We rely on the hospitality of buildings throughout Parkdale and even one outside of its borders to host our gatherings and do administrative work. We also understand that connecting well with our community means being outside, noticing people in coffee shops, and visiting those who are bound to home or hospital. We are nomads with a schedule.

The challenge in this is creating spaces that. though they are not our own, feel like The Dale. Seemingly little things help: using our own plates, mugs and cutlery on Mondays; placing the Scrabble board on the table at the Thrift Store; setting the communion table with our stole, a candle holder donated by a community member, a brass plate for the bread, and our cups. People notice if these items are missing.

These material contents (however few and important they might be), are not what primarily what make our spaces home-like. I think the transition to calling something home happens when we start to think of a space as “ours”. The Dale is its people. However chaotic or calm our spaces might be, we try to inhabit them in a way that fosters a sense of peace, safety, and respect.

Making the decision to give notice and spill into the street in 2012 was never made lightly. I recall how important it was for the community to grieve the loss of our space, especially considering that many people had no other place to call home. What it gave rise to is the recognition that we are not limited to our walls.

Now we gently live in the tension of needing buildings and being without one of our own. This has been our reality for nearly six years. As we face a new year, I want to acknowledge the importance of space, express gratitude for all of our building partners and the neighbourhood of Parkdale and honour our community members who make The Dale (whatever space we might be in) feel like home.