The before, during and after stories, poems and photos of a homeless child.
I cannot explain why so many spiders have crept into my life this summer! Today, as I pulled down my towel while stepping out of my bath, this creepy critter dropped from the ceiling. It was huge and gave me a shiver!
“Can’t a lady bathe with privacy?” I called out to the critters in Spiderland!I captured the beast in a water jug I keep handy to rinse down the soap bubbles. I continue to bear small scars from it’s fellow beasts and want no more spine chilling memories!
© Zora Zebic 2016
When I first spotted the leaf I was certain it was a painted garden accessory. Not able to contain myself, I reached out to touch it. The leaf was a spectacle of both beauty and ugliness, clashing colours offset by white.
A small pink flower nestled in a bed of green leaves called out, “I am so pretty.” Yes the small flower was delicate, lovely and frail, though it did not have what it takes to capture my attention.
I thought how Mother Nature’s artistic spirit flounces from surreal, to dowdy, to vibrant, to bold, to visionary, to peaceful, to vicious, to gentleness and so on. She is a virtuoso like no other. So many of us yearn to create a small indelible work of art in hopes to earn a nod, however brief, of her approval.
I sat back on my heels and took a moment to enjoy the melody of the breeze singing in the treetops and broke out into a song of my own. I felt as though a hand gently brushed against my cheek and rested then enveloped in her peace.
© Zora Zebic 2016
I stepped off the sidewalk and onto the grass to capture a photo of luscious-looking ripe crabapples. I said to my husband, “I hope not to meet crabby people, upset by my trespassing.” Barry said, “The man is looking at you and smiling. I would think he is happy to see someone impressed with his garden.” Indeed, an elderly man was looking over at me and I waved hello. He waved back and I felt relieved.
It is so nice to encounter a friendly soul. So often in life we can meet those who do not understand the innocence of our actions, in my case that I could not resist capturing an image of this fruit. It was a lovely moment in a day of almost overwhelming concern for a friend recovering from a triple bypass. Though we were deep in the midst of a the city of London, Ontario, there stood fruit trees displaying the gift of life. I knew God gave this sign to me to unburden my heart with the knowledge all would be well.
© Zora Zebic 2016
A young boy standing near exclaimed, “Wow I can look right at the sun!” “Be careful,” said a lady I presumed was his mom, “It is no different than an eclipse. Even on cloudy days, you should never look directly at the sun.”
I paused from taking more photos when the boy said, “It’s like the story in Sunday school. The teacher read to us a part about how Moses saw the bright light of God and went blind for three days!” I was impressed with her when she said to the boy, “It is great to know the messages you are being taught are staying with you.” The boy looked up at the woman and both their smiles were angelic.
I never cease to be amazed by images of the earth and waters, their inhabitants, and the sky and and it’s dwellers. It is stunning how these images can be reflected upon and mentally pasted to passages in the Bible.
© Zora Zebic 2016
He left his element, I suppose in hopes of attracting a different life. He did, or rather other life was attracted to him. It was easy to frame a shot of him and the five green bottle flies.
© Zora Zebic 2016
The man is the doorway demanded to know why I was taking a photo of the vehicle. I said, “It is a rare opportunity for me to see a vehicle undergoing surgery at an automobile clinic.” I don’t think he was amused.
© Zora Zebic 2016
“Did my eyes deceive me?”
“No, you’ve made no mistake.”
“I thought he passed away.”
“You’re thinking of another guy with the same name.”
“Wouldn’t that be a church full of tame parishioners.”
“Indeed. Who would challenge a minister who is also a master of the martial arts.”
“Funny that.”
“Funny what?”
“They’d name it an art. It is a skill, is it not?”
“True, however, go to a club where they train. Every move is as artistic as dance.”
“Ahhh. I understand.”
“I read about this man online. He’s a fantastic individual who has done much to serve others. He opened a day care centre for seniors.”
“That is incredible!”
“He also supports mental health initiatives, trans rights, LGBT concerns, and, most importantly, he serves God.”
“Wow! This man is incredible!”
“So sad we have to leave today. The next time we come to London, let’s attend his service.”
“Agreed.”
“I want to bring Sarah-Lynn with us. She’ll be so happy we found Rev Bruce Lee and the Metropolitan Community Church. She may not want to come back home with us.”
“Windsor has our own Metropolitan Community Church. I looked that up online too.”
“Well praise God. Had we not seen this sign and been amused by the man’s name, we would not have been led to a church for Sarah-Lynn! Since she found God she has desired a church where she will feel completely accepted.”
“God does work in mysterious ways.”
© Zora Zebic 2016
On one of his walks my husband spied a very young homeless couple entering an abandoned home. He asked me to grab my camera and go back with him. The house was mostly boarded yet a back door, hanging weakly on it’s hinges showed a dismal view inside. Not wanting to be accosted for trespassing I nervously snapped a few photos.
The clutter did not capture my eye, instead it was the bottle of pink nail polish. I’d said to Barry, “Even in her state of utter poverty she yearns to look pretty.” I felt a pang in my chest as I’d said the words. These young people are somebody’s children. They are afraid, lost and living in conditions unfit for human inhabitation. Does it really matter why they have run away? Shouldn’t we still care for these children?
I founded my agency, Street Help Homeless Centre of Windsor over 17 years ago. Through all these years I have been witness to many of the horrible places people are forced to live in. Abandoned buildings, unheated garages, tents in backyards, under porches, in cardboard boxes, in wooded areas, automobiles and even garbage dumpsters.
Our social safety net is full of gigantic holes, so many that few are caught and raised up to decent standards of living. I have always said “The only good Service Provider is one who is trying to work themselves out of a job.” I mean that. It would be wonderful for me to retire witnessing an end to homelessness in Windsor, Ontario!
© Zora Zebic 2016
Time, many moves, glue stains from tape and neglect have not been kind to this sketch of mine drawn March 7, 1976. I was in my 8th month of pregnancy for my son. Although his father and I had parted ways, I’d thought I’d sketch a moment of remembered passion.
I had called it Ebony and Ivory Lovers. It wouldn’t be until 1982 that Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder would release their song with a similar title. I was still in a state of being judged by others for my relationship with a man of colour and my heart wanted to express love wasn’t boxed in by race and this should be obvious to anyone viewing my sketch.
Recently my husband and I stayed at a bed and breakfast called Inn Chanted Forest in London, Ontario. There on a wall outside our room I saw the painting above and it caused me to search in old documents to find my sketch. It struck me how very similar our pictures are and both evidence love transcends skin tones.
© Zora Zebic 2016
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