[Sundaycommunity] (no subject)

[Dave Snelgrove]

Thank you so much for this.  I believe it's Dean Riley who made that choice
and while I don't you (having been gone from Toronto for 15 years) I still
feel happy and grateful every time I feel the connections being made
again.  Perhaps once a Sunday Community member, always and forever we'll be
one.  And the ethos, faith in action, genuine caring and love that is
shared keeps us going even from miles away.  I've found a Church home here
in Montreal, which amazingly is similarly filled with the Holy Spirit -
shining with it.  Raymond's story keeps the neverending fire of hope
alive.  I'll still be smiling when I go to bed tonight.  All the best,
Rosemary Gray-Snelgrove          snelgrovedave at gmail.com



On Fri, Nov 28, 2025 at 2:21 PM Dean Riley via Sundaycommunity <
sundaycommunity at lists.integralshift.ca> wrote:

> Friday afternoon greetings to all…
>
> I saw this item on Facebook this afternoon and was moved by the story. I
> thought I’d share it you all.
>
> Blessings…
>
> Dean.
>
> -::-::-::-
>
> "My name's Raymond. I'm 73. I work the parking lot at St. Joseph's
> Hospital. Minimum wage, orange vest, a whistle I barely use. Most people
> don't even look at me. I'm just the old man waving cars into spaces.
>
> But I see everything.
>
> Like the black sedan that circled the lot every morning at 6 a.m. for
> three weeks. Young man driving, grandmother in the passenger seat.
>
> Chemotherapy, I figured. He'd drop her at the entrance, then spend 20
> minutes hunting for parking, missing her appointments.
>
> One morning, I stopped him. "What time tomorrow?"
> "6:15," he said, confused.
> "Space A-7 will be empty. I'll save it."
> He blinked. "You... you can do that?"
> "I can now," I said.
>
> Next morning, I stood in A-7, holding my ground as cars circled angrily.
> When his sedan pulled up, I moved. He rolled down his window, speechless.
> "Why?"
> "Because she needs you in there with her," I said. "Not out here
> stressing."
>
> He cried. Right there in the parking lot.
>
> Word spread quietly. A father with a sick baby asked if I could help. A
> woman visiting her dying husband. I started arriving at 5 a.m., notebook in
> hand, tracking who needed what. Saved spots became sacred. People stopped
> honking. They waited. Because they knew someone else was fighting something
> bigger than traffic.
>
> But here's what changed everything, A businessman in a Mercedes screamed
> at me one morning. "I'm not sick! I need that spot for a meeting!"
>
> "Then walk," I said calmly. "That space is for someone whose hands are
> shaking too hard to grip a steering wheel."
>
> He sped off, furious. But a woman behind him got out of her car and hugged
> me. "My son has leukemia," she sobbed. "Thank you for seeing us."
>
> The hospital tried to stop me. "Liability issues," they said. But then
> families started writing letters. Dozens. "Raymond made the worst days
> bearable." "He gave us one less thing to break over."
>
> Last month, they made it official. "Reserved Parking for Families in
> Crisis." Ten spots, marked with blue signs. And they asked me to manage it.
>
> But the best part? A man I'd helped two years ago, his mother survived,
> came back. He's a carpenter. Built a small wooden box, mounted it by the
> reserved spaces. Inside? Prayer cards, tissues, breath mints, and a note,
>
> "Take what you need. You're not alone. -Raymond & Friends"
>
> People leave things now. Granola bars. Phone chargers. Yesterday, someone
> left a hand-knitted blanket.
>
> I'm 73. I direct traffic in a hospital parking lot. But I've learned this:
> Healing doesn't just happen in operating rooms. Sometimes it starts in a
> parking space. When someone says, "I see your crisis. Let me carry this one
> small piece."
>
> So pay attention. At the grocery checkout, the coffee line, wherever you
> are. Someone's drowning in the little things while fighting the big ones.
>
> Hold a door. Save a spot. Carry the weight no one else sees. It's not
> glamorous. But it's everything."
>
>
> …
> From Facebook:
> Astonishing
> By Mary Nelson________________________________________
>
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>
>
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