Be grateful. Inspired by Jinxi Boo's poem.

I knew it was tme to get postign but I was ahving a hard time figuring out what to write about. Then I read Jinxi's poem Grateful in my Google Reader and a topic that had been dancing around the edges crystallized. I love Jinxi's work, it always speaks to my heart and as I said when I posted it here, I hope it speaks to yours. I also read another poem today that spoke as loudly and brought with it healing but my edges are still somewhat raw and Ill write more on that another time as I need to get permission to repost that poem.

It's very easy to get caught up in what we don't have and lose sight of what we do have. It's a human trait that seems to be increasing these days but it's always possible that it's my perspective that makes it seem so.

I work to live a life of gratitude but it wasn't always that way. In 2002 I'd had yet another massive breakdown, lost my job and my apartment. I was forced to move into a rooming house, the only place I could afford on what little money I would be getting from unemployment - 55% of just over minimum wage isn't very much money. When I was younger my Dad had dated a woman who lived in a rooming house and I had a somewhat romantic view of the whole thing. Well, there was little that was romantic about this rooming house. Across the hall from me lived a couple that the week before I had moved away from on the bus. On my second day there was a knock on the door from a local church group offering me a sandwich and a pop. ("Sandwich and a pop?" called out in a sweet singsong..... I can hear it to this day......). Apparently they came around every other Sunday. I was horrified. I declined their offer and would later just sit quietly when they knocked until they went away. They'd leave the sandwich and can of pop outside my door and I'd give them to the guy who had the closet sized room beside mine. Eventually the day came when I had to eat the sandwich myself. Eventually the day came when I realized that I'd lost enough weight that my jeans slipped off my hips and I had to accept the fact that I was now one of those people who went to the food bank instead of being someone who made donations to the food bank. For the longest time food bank food gave me heartburn. Eventually that passed taking more of my pride with it.

I'd go the the library to use the internet. And to steal toilet paper. On Saturdays I had to remember to take enough to last until Tuesday when the library opened again. I cut up all my towels except for two to use as pads. I eventually remembered to take my toilet paper with me when I woke up in the night to use the bathroom - the one I now shared with people I didn't care to share bus space with previously.

One day I was feeling especially bad and quite sorry for myself. I'd been forced to feed my two beloved cats rice for a few days while I waited for my unemployment check to arrive. I was out of cat food, out of tobacco and pretty much out of hope. I sat by the window and watched the street three stories below. The I saw him. I always thought of him as the guy in the red coat. He was a street person and no matter the weather, he always had on a red winter coat. I saw him at the library all the time - full bearded, dirty and usually talking to himself. I watched him walking along, bumming change form passers by and picking up butts from the street. And I realized that as bad as I had it, it could always be worse. True, my cats and I had only plain rice to eat, but we had a roof over our heads. And even though there were many times when I used to bathroom sink wo wash out my underpants, I still had clean underpants to wear. I didn't feel better than him, but I did feel luckier. And I felt pretty small for feeling so badly for myself.

Living on Carleton St wasn't the best place to live, but I learned some invaluable lessons there. I learned to truly live in gratitude there and I still do. It's been pretty cold here this winter but I remind myself that it would be even colder living on the streets. When we were without a stove and fridge, I'd remind myself that we were lucky to have had the money to buy a hotplate. I felt overwhelming gratitude when the parents of a dear friend gave us $150 at Christmas to help us get a fridge and stove - we'd never even met them but they knew of our situation from their daughter, my dear friend Jenny. (We moved back to the Miramichi in December and the only place that would allow my cats was a house that had no fridge or stove - thanks to Jenny's folks, we now have both!) And there isn;t a time when I use the stove or open the fridge that I don't think on that amazing gift.

When Tom and I fist got together, he used to bitch about going to the laundromat. I'd tell him, be grateful! Going there means we have the ability to walk there, we have the money to wash the clothes and we have clothes that need to be washed and clothes to wear while we go. And besides, it was all of two hours out of the day, not worth letting it ruin your whole day!

I never did express my thanks in words to the guy in the red coat. Last I knew, he was still living on the streets in Fredericton. But I used to buy a sub when I could and leave it on his coat at the library when he was away in the stacks getting a book.

Oh, and the awful rooming house that destryoed my image of rooming houses as being a romantic place to live? There was some romance there. It's where I met Tom my husband.