The Greenway - and the unintended consequence

For all my rhapsodizing in the previous post about the benefit of the Olympics on this area, there's an unintended consequence to the current work. It's isolated the alley across from us and made it into a congregating point for the drug activity. Police do come through there on foot, but not having motor vehicle access on the west side makes it too easy to escape on foot. We'll have a lot of "catch-up" to play, once the street work is finished and the alley is back open: the longer the work takes, the harder the job will be.

"Paranoia runs deep ..."

The latest paranoia-mongering is connected to the talk of mass compulsory vaccinations against H1N1 virus. A street protest claimed the first to be innoculated against the flu would be pregnant women, native Indians and children in an obvious conspiracy to wipe out the detritus of society. "Genocide," the protesters call it.

Right - an attempt to prevent people from catching a disease is obviously genocide.

I'd love to hear people who throw words like that around try to explain their definition to the Jews, Armenians and Tutsis.

On the other hand, I have serious problems with a mass effort to inject something into people against their will - but I wouldn't want to be part of the conspiracy theory going on there. I'd be more likely to consider whether something like this spoken if in the end times prophecies. But more to the point, by His stripes I am healed and by His Blood, I'm protected from H1N1 - just as I've been protected from any of the communicable diseases on the DTES (praise Him!)

And that's something we should all remember.

The Lord's Rain - The Olympics & Another Milestone

It's fashionable around the Downtown East Side to vilify the Olympics. It's kind of a "principle" thing: anything new and different that happens in the area -- especially if it's done by any level of government -- is automatically "all because of the Olympics" and therefore Not To Be Trusted.

(Can somebody please 'splain to me what the point of anti-Olympics protesters is? They're not going to stop the games from happening, or stop several million people from having a good time -- and I don't think one homeless person has been housed as a result of the protests. The dark sense of oppression that comes off their actions and their posters with images of dark-hooded, masked demons and slogans like "Riot 2010" is far more threatening than any increased police presence. It reminds me that freedom of expression is a precious commodity, which millions of people have laid down their lives to defend over the centuries, and -- like anything precious -- open to abuse.)

But God ...

I love that expression of Jon Boyd's, from Westpointe Christian Centre. Something looks a certain way to The World, but God says it shall be different.

The World has its way of looking at The Olympics and the Downtown East Side, But God says, Not so fast.

1 -- I mentioned in a previous posting that vision I had of the Carrall Street Greenway -- complete and beautiful and welcoming -- and our little Mission, sitting there in the midst of it. That's a "pre-legacy" of the Olympics, right there. Why shouldn't our area look nicer? If the focus of the world's attention has made us take a hard look at the Downtown East Side and its issues, there's another legacy -- and just as lasting a legacy as the Canada Line, really.

2 -- Gospel Mission stands to gain, financially, from the Olympics. I've just been hired as PA announcer for the Canada Cup Women's Hockey Championship next week. It's a pre-Olympic event, and there's a possibility I'll be hired for The Show in February, as well. I tithe. Need I say more?

3 -- A milestone we reached this past Saturday is also Olympics related, and in a most wonderful way. When Joe Trepanier (who used to preach Saturday nights at Gospel Mission, and his leaving coincided with my showing up on the doorstep) took his shower, I looked at the little ongoing record we keep in a notebook and realized that the running total through the top of the page was 566. Then I started counting the tick marks down the page, and Joe's was the 33rd.

566 + 33 = 599. One more to a milestone.

And around 9:15, that "one more" walked in.

He's a fellow I'd seen several months before, about my age (50ish), with a young man in tow this time. And they both wanted showers.

In my mind, I flashed on the night Gordie Howe scored his 600th career goal in the NHL, and CBC, with the elementary 1960s-vintage technology, had prepared a special graphic: "600", flashing over the close-up of Gordie. This now played in my head as I told the pair they were #600 and #601.

So the honour goes to William Van Noord and his son, Jesse. I gave each of them a Bible with their names in it and the date and all that stuff. An impromptu ceremony, to be sure, and I think they were a little nonplussed by it all.

Now ... The Rest Of The Story.

Jesse Van Noord had just arrived from Ann Arbor, Michigan, about a week before. The pair are now living in a camper beside a job site, where they're installing cabinetry. William had, apparently, gotten the job and brought his son out to work with him.

The job was evidently something welcome for William, and I, for one, would welcome anything my son and I could do together, so there's a double blessing right there. I don't know -- nor would I speculate -- what the circumstances were that led to William living in Vancouver and Jesse in Ann Arbor, but here they were, together again. And since you can imagine the privations of having two grown men living in a camper, so it was a blessing to us that William had remembered The Lord's Rain when it came time to shower-up.

And where are they installing cabinets? Olympic Village.

So are the Olympics a blessing or a curse? Depends on how you look at it, doesn't it? But being one who believes that if you obsess on the demon behind the bush you'll miss the ram in the bush, I'm leaning towards the "blessing" side.

Candy (cont'd)

Some photos are coming in of Candy -- along with a clarification. First, a classic photo of Candy -- classic in that she's with a baby or other small human, in this case Eve, with her daddy, Sharveen (Claudia, Eve's mom, sent this one in). Heather noted that Candy really rediscovered her childhood through Christ -- and, by extension, through Heather's kids. Relating to kids was something Candy did particularly well.

Here's her birthday -- her natural birthday, I should point out. Candy celebrated her "re-birthday" too -- the date of her becoming Born Again in Christ. It's a significant date for many people, especially when they want to re-affirm 2 Cor. 5:17 ("if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature ...."), and I'm sure Candy used that as a conversation opener more than once ("How old are you?" "Five.").

Mind you, Candy would probably also tell you it's a good way to double-up on the cake.

She stopped wearing the head-scarf (right) a couple of months ago: the front of her head had been shaved for surgery, but her hair grew back up front as it got longer at the back.

Cal wrote in with a clarification of Candy's testimony, to wit:

I think Candy came to our doorstep during the day, according to Heather, 1-1:30pm, but stayed the night, actually for several weeks... Our version of what the gunmen were after was drug money (they came to her place at night and she hid till after noon before feeling safe to make it to our place) but Candy didn't have any...

Keep the pictures and memories coming ...

Dharm Makwana, a reporter with 24 Hours, saw the blog and called to find out more. He's interested in seeing what people come forward with recollections of Candy's ministering to them on SkyTrain (or transit in general).

Candy

My friend Candy died this morning.

There was a moment, around 10 past 1 this morning (nearly 8 hours before she finally breathed her last), when I realized, "my God, this is it" ... turning back to the bed to say goodbye one last time. Like the late Larry Norman in his last week a year ago, it was party time in the hospice room when Amelia and I arrived. Some techno-music was blasting away on the stereo (apparently, Cal's and Heather's daughters believed it was a significant "totally Candy" song), and we all knew that everything that could be said had been said, and as she was leaving this chapter of Eternity with no regrets, we were letting her go with no regrets.

Just last Wednesday, Amelia and I had wheeled her out into the garden at St Michael's hospice in Burnaby. She couldn't talk, but her grip on our hands was tight, and she could still crack a smile and manipulate one eyebrow. So we sat there, reading the Bible, singing worship songs, and breathing in the fresh air of the garden and looking at the flowers. Heather joined us and we spent this beautiful evening -- the 4 of us -- chatting and praying and loving our friend.

Now, here we were, the time closing in on midnight, watching our friend. She was already in the arms of Jesus ... breathing on her own, but irreversibly asleep and gradually growing colder from the extremities inward ... already gone, and "they" were just turning out the lights. But for a selfish instant, as I bent over her to kiss her forehead, I realized that this was It: the last time I'd see her alive ... and that that raucous laugh, her whoops of joy, her shouts of "Hallelujah!" and her sudden, unprovoked utterance, "thank you, Jesus!" would not be heard again at Westpointe.

Who was I kidding? They hadn't been heard in about 2 months, since just before she had yet another seizure and was bunged into Burnaby General Hospital to wait for a palliative bed ... and then space in the hospice. But saying that last goodbye was like hearing the cell door clang shut ... at least, it was to me.

I remember first meeting her. Who could forget first meeting Candy? I'd decided to stop driving past Westpointe and actually go in ... and there she was, this 50-something woman with ever-changing hair colour and a demeanour closer to an 8-year-old ... utterly delighting in praising the Lord, serving the Lord, and testifying about the Lord. Early on, I learned that she'd been a drug addict ... hooked on heroin for the most part ... abandoned by her family and raised by bikers in Montreal from age 11. And saved by Jesus when she was about 53, and aside from letting out a loud whoop if she saw or heard a Harley-Davidson go by (she had no time or patience for "rice rockets" -- Japanese motorbikes -- especially the ones that tried to masquerade as Harleys) ... but that was pretty much the only link with her past that she maintained ...

I asked her early on if she'd give her testimony at Gospel Mission. "No way, man," she said. "I'm never going back down there!" She was afraid she'd fall ... or run into someone she knew. I told her the invitation would always be open, and then -- almost a year ago now -- Nathan Weber -- Pastor Cal's son -- spoke a prophecy over her that she would return to the DTES and give her testimony.

About four months ago, she did just that. Heather -- Cal's wife -- called to ask if they could come down. They sat at the back (and no, Candy didn't meet anyone she knew) and finally, I asked if she'd come up and share her experience with the others. A very nervous Candy stepped forward and took the mike; and after almost drying solid (and if you knew Candy, you'd understand how rare an occurence that would be!), she started telling her story.

She told of the bikers and the drugs and the abandonment as a child. She told of living on the streets and hanging out on Granville Mall, which was the "heroin district" -- compared with the "crack district" on the DTES. She told of Heather and Cal ministering to her and preaching Jesus. And she told of the night two hoods burst into her dingy apartment and stuck a gun to her head.

"They were looking for a guy and thought I knew him and knew where he was," she said. "I didn't, but they didn't believe me. One of the guys cocked the gun and I said, 'Jesus, if You get me out of this, I'll give my life to You.'"

He pulled the trigger.

The gun jammed.

Twice.

The hoods ran off, and Candy was out the door as soon as it was safe. To hear her tell it, her feet hardly touched ground as she raced over to Cal and Heather's and - even though it was very late at night - received Jesus at last.

Some might question whether we can make a deal with God like that: promise to serve Him if He gets you out of a jam. But God knows our hearts -- whether we genuinely have made a commitment or whether we're just trying to say anything to get out of a pickle. He knew Candy's. She became the fiercest, loudest, most joyful enemy of the enemy you ever saw. Living is the best revenge, and she took her revenge on the devil for all those locust-devoured years by living for Jesus and doing her touchdown dance on Satan's face at every opportunity.

She was already ravaged by Hepatitis-C, acquired through intravenous drug use, and she had good days and bad days, but she never let on. Even when the radiation and chemotherapy were draining her and the steroids were making her puff up like that marshmallow guy she rarely gave in to the pain and discomfort. And she wouldn't let us feel sorry for her.

There are so many images of Candy. Seeing her unbridled delight when my wife Amelia was baptized. I'll let Amelia tell the story herself if she wants, but the picture is here ......

One that I never saw, but she described it to me, was how she would sit on the floor of SkyTrain as it travelled over SkyBridge -- the bridge over the Fraser River between New Westminster and Surrey -- because she was to deathly afraid of heights. She'd take SkyTrain practically anywhere -- usually to Surrey -- and talk to people, tell them about Jesus, and pray for them. Pastor Jon Boyd said last night that people actually would seek her out, to get more prayer.

Then there was the time when she was clearly in pain one Sunday morning. A friend of ours came in and sat beside Amelia and me ... terribly despondent ... and put her head in her hands. Candy came over and sat in the row in front, turned around, laid a hand on our friend's shoulders and started praying for her. I remembered that scene -- someone in pain, reaching out to pray for someone else -- when I was in hospital in February: get your head out of yourself, I told myself then, and find someone else to pray for.

Who knows what seeds Candy has sown in her brief but intense walk with God? The good farmer plants the seed, then moves on to a new furrow. He doesn't stand over it and watch it come up. Sometimes, he's blessed to see the finished product when it's ready for harvest.

Here's another memory: just before Amelia's and my wedding, Jon and I were in the prayer room at Westpointe. He went out. I followed him a couple of minutes later, suddenly paranoid that Amelia and the others wouldn't think to look for me in the prayer room to tell me they were ready and so they'd be waiting out in the fellowship hall or (worse) start without me. A strange, First Night At The Theatre hush sat over the church as I sat down next to dad. Suddenly, a loud "WHOOOOO!" came from a few rows back. And there ended the hush.

Even when you're reading the Word and walking in the Word and trying to live the Word, you still get brought up short by situations like Candy's. Why would God let her drag through 40 years of drugs and bikers and street life then save her in spectacular fashion, turn her loose on an unsuspecting world of sinners and then let her contract brain cancer and die? Where's the justice in that?

Sunday morning at Westpointe, the Lord started giving an answer. He told me that what's important is that Candy ran her race, and ran it hard and well since the day she leapt off the wrong track she'd been on and got onto the right track.

But why would He take her? I believe it's because we needed to see a woman who could face adversity and refuse to curse God and die. We needed to see the power of redemption and renewal in Christ -- and Candy's was an electrifying testimony.

We needed to see someone totally uninhibited when it came to witnessing Christ and unconditional in her commitment. We needed to see that, no matter who we are and what we think we're supposed to be doing, God has the timetable in His hands and we can't assume we have any more or less time than any others. What we choose to do with that time is what's important.

And possibly above all, we needed to see -- while so many of us are at an age when we can understand it -- what it looks like for someone to face the end of this life fearlessly, in the confidence of their relationship with God through Jesus Christ. Candy defanged death: it has no sting, it shall have no dominion.

May we all have that same confidence when it comes our turn.

From our friends ...

I marvel at the miracles God works in people when they give Him a chance! I also marvel at the way He responds to prayer in His time. Two cases in point are people I've known since the days at Rainbow Mission, where I ministered from summer of 2004 until the end of 2006.

Danilo, for example, first started coming ... actually, I can't remember when Danilo first started coming or how he became a part of the ministry, but I also can't remember when he wasn't part of the ministry, helping in the kitchen or cleaning up or whatever needed to be done. When Rainbow closed, he came with John and Amelia and me to another Mission, and then God moved us all over to Gospel Mission.

I remember that patience was not Danilo's strong suit when I first met him. Loyalty certainly was and has been: he was definitely ready to drop the gloves if anyone looked at me the wrong way or acted up in the services. But over these four or five years, I've seen him become more patient, calmer, more willing to decide that, if there's a dispute, it's really not the proverbial "hill to die on".

He's 56 years old, Nicaraguan, speaks five languages and has been through most of Europe and the Americas. Marched with the Sandinistas, although he's now disillusioned with Daniel Ortega -- and says much of the country is, too. Went through many years of high living that eventually caught up with him, and for the better part of three years was homeless. A couple of months ago, he finally found a place that is not only a consistent roof over his head, but is also outside the Downtown East Side.

Now, part of his own "ministry" is to counsel young Latinos who come to Vancouver, trying to convince them that "you don't want to end up like me".

Recently, he shared a prayer he's been saying daily for the past year or so.

God, I thank you for today. Guide my thoughts in a righteous way. Let such guidance be free of selfishness, self-pity, lack of honesty. Help me, Lord, in the name of Christ.
Lord, grant me perseverance, patience and tolerance toward people, places and things.
Lord, stimulate me to be loyal to You
Lord, grant me wisdom and intuitive ideas for a plentiful life in a spiritual place.
Bless my mother, forgive my father, help my sisters and brother and family as well as my daughter.
Above all, make me a good servant.

***

Kim is also someone who I first met at Rainbow Mission. He was one of the guys who'd show up near the end of the sermon, in time for the food. If he got there earlier, he'd sit at the back and look bored. Then, when he "migrated" over to Gospel Mission, he started moving closer to the front row. He started bring a Bible and following along. He started asking questions, and then started sharing insights he was getting. Finally, early in 2008, he came up after a service and asked if he might give the message some night. I told him, "by all means", and on the Saturday before Easter Sunday (the services I minister are on Saturday nights), Kim gave the message.

Being a cook by trade, he picked on a theme he knew well: salt. "Salt and Light" was the topic of the message, and it was very well researched and presented.

But not long after, for reasons only He knows (for now), God moved Kim in the general direction of away. He didn't come back, and while there were "sightings" of him -- usually at Union Gospel Mission -- he didn't set foot in our upper room for over a year.

Last week, I came out of the main office to start the service, and there he was. At least, it looked like him. I wasn't sure at first, because he had a new set of teeth that changed his facial features considerably. He'd been working on new trades -- in computers -- and had written up his insights from the Word. One of those, was his sermon on Salt and Light.

THE BODY
SALT the definition taken from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia is as follows; salt is a dietary mineral composed primarily of sodium chloride that is essential for animal life, but toxic to most land plants. Salt flavor is one of the basic tastes.

Everyone here has used salt at one time or another on their food to bring out / or enhance the flavor of it. Salt itself is essential for life as we know it, and all of us had carvings for salty foods like potato chips or such! That’s because there is a salt balance imbalance within are body.

Just like natural salt we need and use on food, we need spiritual salt for our soul. I feel that salt in one sense is the fruit of the spirit, which can be found in Galatians 5: 22, 23 But the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, Meekness, temperance, We all need to feel love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith Meekness, and temperance directed towards us. I certainly feel better about myself if any one of these is directed towards me, never mind all of these. We all need at least one part of the fruit at any one! And if we don’t have fruit how can we enhance someone’s life just like salt is to the food? We are of no value to anyone.

Either way (salted or unsalted) we come in contact with people every day of our lives, and we impact their life one way or another!

The fruit of the spirit I believe is speaking of the Holy Spirit. And if you’re showing the fruit of the spirit, you’re showing God’s light through his spirit! The Holy Spirit is in you. The Trinity is God the creator, Jesus the redeemer, and the Holy Spirit the enabler.

When Jesus was speaking of ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid. Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works. And glorify your father which is in heaven.

Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works. And glorify your father which is in heaven.
I think that is what God spoke about when through Isaiah he said “Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee. For behold, the darkness shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the people: but the Lord shall arose upon thee, and hid glory shall be seen upon thee. And the Gentiles shall come to thy light, and kings to the brightness of thy rising.”

I was living in the darkness of the world with drug, alcohol, and nicotine addiction. I had no money, raiding ashtrays for butts, and had to rely on free food places just to get a meal or go hungry. However, by praying to the Father, through the Son, in the Holy Spirit (the Blessed Trinity). I overcame each one at a time, one-step at a time, and one day at a time! Now I am walking in the light, told that I am looking better, I am definitely feeling better. Having the ability provide and care for myself. People who have known me before, and look at me now, have seen the difference!

(Foundation Scriptures: Matt. 5:13-16; Gal. 5:22; Isa. 60:1-3.)

We had been praying constantly for Kim to return, but left it to God to decide the "when" and the "where". He answered -- and big-time! -- and even as there have been things that have troubled us lately, looking at the things God has been doing in His people, and knowing that He has used us in various ways to help make that happen, can only encourage us.

Moments of despair, moments of joy

I love the way God messes with my mind sometimes.


Mind you, it's usually in a good way -- letting me see moments of despair, and then slapping me on the back and saying, "see? It's all going to be OK!"


The construction going on outside Gospel Mission / The Lord's Rain has been particularly trying. Some could look at it the same way certain businesspeople on Cambie Street looked at the construction of the Canada Line: a major pain in the bottom and anathema to business. Or ... consider the way the Carrall Street Greenway is going to look when it's finished. More about that in a sec'.


We've had some internal difficulties lately. People who we've seen make giant strides in their lives thanks to being touched by the Word of God have "weirded-out" on us. Others have run into serious health problems. Finances have gotten hard to come by. In the Spirit realm, one would say we're under attack.


Well, a former colleague of mine at the BC Electric Railway Company (for those of you unfamiliar with my sense of humour, that's TransLink - the South Coast British Columbia Transportation Authority, where I work) once said, "if you're not taking flak, you're not over the target". In Biblical terms, the apostles were told to rejoice when such things happened, because they were under attack for the sake of the Gospel.


And to put it in terms that relate to us ... we're poking someone with a sharp stick and he doesn't like it. If we weren't getting through to people with the Gospel and liable to lead people to Christ, the devil would leave us alone.


(There's an inspiring story, used as an analogy for salvation and newness in Christ, about Roy "Wrong Way" Reigels, who ran the wrong way in a Rose Bowl game, leading to the safety touch which made the difference in the final score. The amazing thing about his tragically flawed end-to-end run was that no one from the opposing team tried to stop him. That's the devil for you: if he lets us run untouched, it probably means we're not a threat to him.)


And indeed we are, because through all that have come shining moments to remind us that we're doing what we're supposed to be doing.

• Mario - a 40-something man who's been seeking God for some time. I met him at Rainbow Mission almost 5 years ago now. Then didn't see him much until two weeks ago, when he came to Gospel Mission. He had caught fire for God, brought a flash-disk filled with Worship songs, and talked about Scripture and how it applied to Vancouver.


• Kim - a fellow who I'd also first met at Rainbow, and who "migrated" to Gospel Mission around the same time I did. He actually preached a short sermon (which I'll post later) on "Salt and Light". And then, he stopped coming. Someone told me that somebody had said the wrong thing to him. We prayed for him, hoping he'd come back. Last week, he did -- with the message for my wife: "I'm Baaaack!" He'd been studying, learning trades, had new teeth, and a great new positive attitude.


• a woman -- a clothing designer and former drug addict -- who followed up on our list of "needs" in Operation Phoenix in The Province newspaper: eager to help with Ladies' Day and anything else we need


• one of our "community" who had come a long way in the past two years and then weirded-out on us (see above), made a personal, face-to-face apology to Pastor Barry, after almost blowing up every bridge he'd built

Much of this has come after I'd sent an email circular to a group of men and women of God, asking for prayer for the Mission and its assignment.

God is obviously listening.

He's also showing. I had a lovely vision the other night. I was praying about the situation at the Mission, and a photo of the front of the Mission came into view. But then, I started to see the streetscape of the Carrall Street Greenway, superimposed on the photo. The rest of Carrall Street has been turned into the Greenway, so it wasn't hard to imagine. And I started thinking, "wow! Our little Mission ... on that brand-new, beautifully designed street! Thank you, Lord!"

A moment of joy, indeed.

Interesting conversation ...

It seemed like an inocuous situation: John, his roommate Howard and I, at Superstore to buy groceries for the Mission. None of us had a loonie to get a shopping cart, so we had to go to Customer Service to get change. The woman at the counter was evidently not Christian: her name -- Harvinder -- suggested Sikh, and the headdress she wore was something I'm not familiar with -- cylindrical and flat on the top, almost like a chef's hat without the souffle coming out the top or the 100 pleats ("representing each of the ways of preparing eggs," or so the line on the short-lived TV series Providence explained it).

Somehow, she overheard that we were buying food for a lot of people. "How many people are you feeding?" "Usually about 120 a month," I replied. "About 40 each time."

"We're from Gospel Mission," John explained.

That, I thought, should have ended the conversation, but the lady pursued it.

"Don't you think those people get fed enough? How much does it really help, to feed them?"

"Well," I replied, "we don't just feed them food for the belly: we feed them the Gospel ..."

"... and how does the Gospel help them? They should be learning skills and getting off the drugs and moving on."

Great opener! "That's it exactly: the Gospel gives them hope they need to make that move to learn the skills. The best treatment program in the world won't do a thing for anybody if they don't have a reason to follow it." I explained (or tried to) that others may be called to provide training and treatment, but our calling was to provide the hope. No one can do it all (a lesson I learned not long after we opened The Lord's Rain), and our job has its place.

I can't remember the rest of the conversation word for word, but it was apparent this was a novel concept to the lady. It appeared that she was of the mind (if I read this correctly) that avoiding jail and avoiding an untimely, wasteful death should be enough incentive to get people to choose to be healthy and to get cleaned up. The idea of giving them Hope -- the intangible reason for getting up in the morning and turning your eyes towards something other than yourself -- must have sounded a little like telling a parent that a child has just smashed up all the furniture in the house because the parent failed to bolster his self-esteem.

But it really isn't the same thing. We, as ministers/missionaries, have a job in exposing people to hope and the people listening to it have a personal duty to receive it and respond accordingly. But if we're not doing our job, how else will they know about that Hope?

The conversation really wasn't about Hope and the Downtown East Side. It was more about someone wanting to hear more about Christ and doing so in a Socratic way. People were starting to line up behind us as she pursued the conversation. It's one I hope will continue another time, God willing.

To be on the safe side, I'll make sure I don't have a loonie next time we go to Superstore.