Sparks and Fireworks

Dear Inner Circle,

More than a few years ago, not long after dinosaurs roamed the earth, I was a youth worker in Mount Druitt. One night, I got a call from a colleague who suggested we get together on New Year’s Eve, fill some backpacks with bottles of water and packets of “Killer Pythons” (a popular Aussie confectionary), and hit the streets after sunset to visit and check in on our community. Reluctantly, I agreed, but was grateful for the conversations we struck up as we wandered the alleyways of our neighbourhood. I was tired and keen to head home as midnight neared, but he urged me on for one last street. We went to knock on the door of a parent whose child was a peer leader in the kids club. She would often help us make sandwiches for the kids to eat after the club. As we approached her front steps, the door flung open. She took one look at us and began swearing. Startled, we offered to leave, but she urged us to stay and chat. We thanked her for her help over the year and offered some words of encouragement, knowing that the role of a single parent can often be thankless. We bid our farewells just as the clock struck midnight, and I will never forget being hit in the leg by a poorly-timed and very illegal “Canberra Special Pack” firework, forcing me to limp home.

The next week, her sister ran up to us, breathless. “She won’t tell you this, but you saved her life the other night,” she said. Seeing our scepticism, she continued, “She was alone that night. Her kids were at our mum’s place, and mum had just texted her, calling her a failure. She was heading out front for what she told me was her ‘last smoke before doing something stupid.’ As she was rolling it, she sighed aloud, ‘Whatever is out there, you’ve got one last chance to save me!’ Then, she swung open the door to find you two idiots.” She slapped us on the back and laughed.

Love is everywhere, and everywhere in need of us. It doesn’t even require our permission. But if we are present, willing, and kind, you never know what might happen. Ordinary actions, performed with great love, without us realising it. This truth drives our community every day to keep on showing up. We may never be aware of it, but miracles might be happening all around us.

Stories have always been the lifeblood of Wayside; they are alive with possibility and invite us to a deeper compassion. I try and capture them in this weekly note, and we are so grateful that many of you share them with friends and family – please continue to do so. If these written anecdotes have resonated with you, we believe our brand new podcast, “Stories from the Wayside”, will too. While it offers a different format – honest, big-hearted conversations with special guests – it’s also a tribute to love, belonging, loneliness, loss, and the rich kaleidoscope of chaos that comes when life is lived from the gutter up.

All real living is meeting, and when we meet as subjects rather than objects, both of us walk away more full of life for the encounter. It’s happened to me in every one of the podcast chats – please, give it a listen and let me know what you think. You might just walk away a little bit changed along with us.

Thank you for being part of our Inner Circle,

Jon

Rev. Jon Owen
CEO & Pastor
Wayside Chapel