The Lost Ones


Imagine this for a moment.

You are not born in a clean warm hospital with nurses who think you are adorable, and cute and smooshable. You are born instead to a war zone, probably a dusty back room. Bombs going off at every turn.

How would you sleep knowing that at any moment you could die? Not because of the color of your skin, or even your beliefs, because frankly you don’t have beliefs, you’re only a baby.

You’re five. You’re parents are gone. There’s no one to take care of you, protect you, teach you to read – to tickle you and tuck you in at night. No one says “I love you” No one says “I see you – you matter, you belong to me and I will defend you”. Instead they tell you to get lost, they don’t care that you are hungry and starving, because they too are hungry and starving.

Every single person around you is so busy trying to survive they don’t care if you survive. If you are lucky to have someone who cared they probably died trying to protect you.

You’re ten. Your family, or what’s left of it is fleeing everything they have ever known. They have finally decided enough is enough. Now they’re going to leave their country. For a better life. A chance at a future for their children.

They are tired of bombs, of rapists and death threats. Of children being turned into murderers. They are tired and scared and afraid and sad, and they are broken. Still strong enough to fight for you though, to hope you can have a chance.

So they throw you over a border, through a fence, you’re alone.

You’re going to a new country, possibly with family, probably alone. You have nothing.

All around the world people are saying they don’t want you, you’re a killer, a Muslim terrorist, you don’t even understand what that means. You’re twelve.

You move to a new country, maybe with family, maybe your own, maybe someone you’ve never met before. It’s cold here. It’s cold but there is food, and warm blankets, but will it last? Will they come for you? These terrorists? Will you be here tomorrow?

The dreams. come then, because the bed is so soft, the blanket so warm, the house not full of dust or broken walls – there are no bombs here, you get comfortable, you fall asleep.

You pee the bed.

You’re scared now, will mother and father be mad? Will the guests of the home you are staying in? Will you be beaten? yelled at? Who knows, you do though, you have an uncontrollable fear because fear is all you’ve ever known.

The dreams come, dreams and reminders every sound so new, the quiet, the still, nothing is right, because it’s not like anything you’ve ever known. How do these people live? what the fuck is a McDonalds? Who is Tim Horton? Why do these people not want me? What have I done wrong?

Not wanted in Syria, or America, England, Canada…no one wants me. No one loves me, I am unloveable. I do not deserve love.

I deserve to die, like the infidels, like the Muslim Terrorists.

You’re thirteen.

A gang comes calling. They offer you a family, money, friends. They protect you. They too understand because they came from the same place. You’re sixteen.

Now you have a gun.

And Drugs.

Someone could have changed this. Someone could have altered this. Someone could have loved this child just enough, but no one did.

Now you’re addicted to drugs, possibly dead. Does it matter? You’re just another lost one.


-Jonquil’s Daugther

Ghost Girl


I Couldn’t sleep tonight. So for awhile I drew. Then I worked on my submission for the Small Rituals Coffee Society essay contest.

Then I took a walk – normal errands. Went to the bank hit up the gas station for smokes and walked to Mc Donald’s for some breakfast for my mom and myself.

While I was there I saw a girl I knew from my days at SUMS.

She’s not that much older than my niece. She’s only a kid. A beautiful chocolate beauty with the eyes of an adult and the wisdom of a broken soul used too many times to care about anything more than surviving one more day.

I knew her the moment I saw her, so I asked for the manager, of course the rather inept McDonald’s staff ignored me which just agitated me further. When she asked to use the bathroom I looked over my shoulder to the corner booth where she was sitting and realized the much older man she’d been sitting with was gone.

He was waiting to go into the bathroom as well. I had to yell to get the manager to stop them from going into the bathroom together because I knew, I knew in the bottom of my heart that this very young, very broken girl was going to have sex with this rather disgusting smelly obviously homeless man with dirty finger nails and even dirtier clothing.

It took another man behind me to tell the manager that yes, they had indeed entered the bathroom together before the manager went into the room to kick the old man out.

Something in me died a little further tonight. Like I said this young girl was no older than my niece, probably younger.

I remember a few months back when my friends kicked her out of the Flamingo Hotel Strip Club because they too recognized right away she was far too young to be in such a place. I didn’t do anything that night, I didn’t call the police I didn’t try to help her. I did tonight, I called the police when I got home – I told them what I knew, but what I didn’t tell them is that there is no saving that young girl.

She hasn’t hit her rock bottom yet, but she has hit a bottom. It’s a bottom with no end, it’s a pit that holds nothing but darkness, and as far as she is concerned there is no escape. I know this because I was once that girl.

Running away from home at every oppertunity, walking the streets, having sex with strange men just to feel something – anything. Thinking that the next high, the next drink, would make things better – knowing it wouldn’t.

Unlike that young girl I had my mother to fight for me, to fight me – to save me. I had people who loved me enough to tell me that I was fucking up – that I mattered. I had myself – I had a need and a drive to survive. I still don’t know why I got as lucky as I did. I got blessed unlike most.

Maybe she does have someone to fight for her – maybe she is fighting those trying to inspire her, I don’t know. She’s got angels clearly because she seems to keep popping up around me when she needs to, whether she agrees or not.

I was protected I will say, by an other worldly existance that has a vested intrest in seeing me survive, and thrive, and grow. I don’t know why I got so lucky when so many die, get lost, get broken and stay broken.

It is for this reason that I fight for at risk youth. That I know that what Surrey needs more than cops, more than mental health programs is programs for At Risk Youth.

We need after school programs – if we want the image of Surrey, BC to change, if we want the community to take responsibility for itself – to fight for a better future for our youth, than we need to fight for the futures of our youth.

We need to inspire them. Far too many girls, and boys for that matter end up like the ghost girl. End up having sex in Mc Donald’s bathrooms, ally ways, the back of limosines with men and with women just to feed their habit, or their souls for one more day. Far too many kids are left on the streets to survive, because they are not taught how to Thrive.

It is our duty to show them how to Thrive.

It is our Job to take care of the broken souls and we are failing. Until every child on this planet knows they matter, knows they are loved and are taught how to thrive, we will continue to fail.

It takes a Village to Raise a Child – this Village has failed.

I’m going to say an extra special little prayer for the Ghost Girl tonight, the one that seems to haunt me like no other homeless youth ever has before, I am going to fight for her, because clearly…she isn’t going to fight for herself.

-Jonquil’s Daughter

I love myself today


I used to be the kind of person who was inspired by words. I loved to read, anything. The very idea of words moving from page to my lips to my mind was intoxicating. Mind you I was five.

I also used to be in love with Religion. With the Catholic Religion to be precise. I wanted very much to know everything about everything. I remember dreaming that one day I would grow up to spend my entire life in dusty old libraries learning about every Religious thing I could just…so I could learn it.

Somewhere around Twelve I learned that “My God” didn’t want me. Or so I was told by Father Alex. I will never forgive him for shattering the innocence and naivete of a young victim. I will never forget the day he looked at me and told me I was going to hell. I will never stop wondering if somehow he magically knew I’d been sexually molested only a few days prior. I will forever remember that was the day he shattered any and all illusions I had of the future.

I think about that a lot, the loss of innocence, the moment a child stops being a child and begins to become the warped version of themselves, the less perfect a little bit broken version that eventually becomes a full grown adult.

I truly believe the day that ruined what ever little innocence I had left was the same day I had to listen to Father Alex give our eighth grade class a lecture on Sin, Hell and how all women are the fruit of all said sin. No matter their age.

My whole life I’ve been fighting to do everything other people told me I shouldn’t do, because I wanted to be free to do whatever I wanted, only to find that I’ve spent the majority of my life being exactly what other people wanted me to be.

When I was in grade school I wanted to take an art class, but instead I took a computer class because my mom swore that I’d end up hating my art teacher. In reality although she was tough I rather liked her.

I remember her telling us to draw a portrait of our partners. I’ll never forget drawing Cydney as a butterfly. At the time the other people laughed. When I found her on Facebook a few years ago I noticed she wasn’t the shy quiet well behaved kind of nerdy girl we all grew up with. She had indeed transformed into a beautiful creature that any Kardashian sister would be envious of. I always knew there was more to her then met the eye.

Instead of defending my painting however I decided to do what the other kids were doing –  just so I would fit in.

My life really when it comes down to it has always been about fitting in until the last moment. Until I could no longer handle it – then would come the inevitable burning of the bridges, walking away rather than saying “I’m not who you think I am”.

The truth is  I very much want to get married. I have always wanted to get married. To be a mother, with a husband two or three kids and a white picket fence in a home surrounded by music and books. To me that is Heaven. It’s the perfect version of the most perfect Heaven I could imagine.

I never wanted to be a “Gang Girl” – I didn’t really enjoy the idea of being famous – I just wanted to be happy. Surrounded by people I loved and people who loved me.

It’s only recently that I have looked back and realized these people I thought were my friends, aren’t. These people I thought I’d lay my life down to protect wouldn’t do the same for me.

So what do I do now?

Now that I have burned bridges and made it clear that I am serious about changing my life?

For more than thirty years now I’ve been waiting for the one person who could see past all the bullshit and see the real me. See the girl that wants a boy that loves her for all her faults, her cracks, her broken shards and says “I see you, I’m not going anywhere”.

By the same token I’ve also prided myself on being an independent woman. So I guess if that man doesn’t exist, or isn’t here right now I’m going to have to be the one to look in the mirror and say “I see you. I see all the broken shards, the cracks, the misplaced pieces and I’m still here. I still love you. You are loved”. If no one else is going to love me, I’m going to have to do it myself and for now that’s enough.

I’m worth loving, and some really amazing people believe that, so maybe it’s time I start believing it too.

– Jonquil’s Daughter

Small Ritual Coffee Society Contest – Please Consider Sponsoring me.

You guys know I’ve never asked anyone to help me out or support me, but as it stands, I am trying my damnedest to change my life.

My entire life I’ve wanted to own my own business, it was only recently I decided I wanted my own book store. (By recent I mean in the last few years). I have always wanted a little place to call my own that opened doors to lost souls who needed a little pick me up.

My friend Ryde is the Executive Director of Small Ritual Coffee Society and they are holding a contest to give away their coffee shop.

I know right ? I actually only found out a few days after speaking with my bestie Kelly about the idea of owning my own coffee shop and book store one day. Something we’ve talked a lot about over the years.

I am asking you to help support me. I will be entering in the next couple of days and I have to admit I’m rather nervous about it. One of the best things about this is that friends and family members of the entrants are allowed to “Sponsor” their chosen person. I am hoping that you guys would be willing to help me with that.

It isn’t easy for me to admit that I need help, to step out of my comfort zone and do something that I honestly never have before, but here’s my basic idea and why I think I would be the best person to run this shop and turn it into something amazing.

MY coffee shop, Which I will name “Cornerstone” will not only serve coffee and sell books but it will to the best of my ability and the ability of my team, will also serve the community, as SRCS does now.

Every day of the week will bring about a different theme. For instance Sundays will be devoted to “Elders” not only will elders receive a percentage off their orders but they will also be asked to come and share the stories of their lives, the wisdom they’ve learned over the years and be given a chance to speak to people who are genuinely curious about the things these amazing people have seen and done.

Tuesdays We will also have Group Yoga Sessions on the beach, Ladies Tea, various events for various groups of people who need a place to come and enjoy a safe serene space.

Wednesdays will be devoted to Youth – those who want to come in, play some music or just hang out – whatever it may be Wednesdays are just for the kids.

I haven’t figured out what every day of the week will be just yet but I am definitely open to suggestions.

The food served will be home made comfort food from scratch – both vegetarian, and vegan will be served along side meat dishes in order to have something to offer everyone.

The staff will be hired from a pool of people who have suffered or lived with challenges, be them physical, mental or emotional.

The store itself will be a metaphysical shop open to any one of any culture – Complete with a once a month open door policy to anyone who wishes to come and share the lessons of their own spiritual path.

I am very certain that this is a long shot but I really, really want this. I also know that I can make it work. I know how much I have been through in my life and I know as crass as this may sound how much I have to offer the world. Given the opportunity I am very certain that not only can I make “Cornerstone” a success I can and will do so by using the skills I have learned over the last fifteen years by working within my North Surrey Community.

This is a very unconventional request but here it is:

 You guys know I’ve never asked anyone to help me out or support me, but as it stands, I am trying my damnedest to change my life.

My entire life I’ve wanted to own my own business, it was only recently I decided I wanted my own book store. (By recent I mean in the last few years). I have always wanted a little place to call my own that opened doors to lost souls who needed a little pick me up.

My friend Ryde is the Executive Director of Small Ritual Coffee Society and they are holding a contest to give away their coffee shop.

I know right ? I actually only found out a few days after speaking with my bestie Kelly about the idea of owning my own coffee shop and book store one day. Something we’ve talked a lot about over the years.

I am asking you to help support me. I will be entering in the next couple of days and I have to admit I’m rather nervous about it. One of the best things about this is that friends and family members of the entrants are allowed to “Sponsor” their chosen person. I am hoping that you guys would be willing to help me with that.

It isn’t easy for me to admit that I need help, to step out of my comfort zone and do something that I honestly never have before, but here’s my basic idea and why I think I would be the best person to run this shop and turn it into something amazing.

In terms of decor we will have at least one wall made of chalk paint so that guests and customers can come in and leave a positive message for those coming in after them.

“People who do not want to enter, but want to support the society or its community can contribute financially by donating $100 to sponsor the entry of an underprivileged youth, or a refugee, or a member of their church or whatever group they want to boost. Persons whom are sponsored will agree to have a copy of their essay given to their sponsor”

If you’ve taken the time to read this I ask you (actually I’m totally begging here) to help me out by sponsoring me and showing the board of Directors that you have faith that not only do I deserve this but that I can and will make it a success.

Rather than giving money directly to me however I ask that you send it to Small Ritual Coffee Society, in White Rock BC,

Small Ritual Coffee Society
1237 Johnston Road, V4B 3Y8

And let them know that you are sponsoring me. If you are unable to do so or you don’t feel in your heart that this is the right thing to do I will completely understand and love you anyways. Thank you all in advance for at least taking the time to read this. <- Link to SMRC Facebook post about the contest.
Devon Hallgate

This too shall pass


No matter how much I wish otherwise, my life is not and probably will not be a life filled with fancy wine’s and fast cars. I will probably not marry Chris Evans or Channing Tatum and live the Hollywood Rockstyle Princess life us westerner women grow up dreaming of.

I will not be a famous writer nor will I travel the world and drown my sorrows in beautiful things and expensive toys.

My life is complicated and messy. It is a life filled with tears and sadness, sometimes mine often times not. It is a life spent doing what I can to better the lives of those around me because I was always taught that’s the right thing to do.

Recently I was reading the blog of my friend Ace who is arguably one of the best bloggers I’ve ever had the pleasure, privilege and absolute joy of knowing. In fact I’d say he’s probably the best male writer I’ve ever known with the exception of my Twitter Prof, Charles Bivona.

Despite what he pretends Ace is without a doubt one of the kindest people that I know – not that this will be harder to believe, he’s even nicer than me. His latest blog talked a lot about the lengths that someone will go in order to destroy another, just for the pleasure of it.

Ace is much nicer than someone who has spent the last few years of her life working to better the lives of others.
I unlike my mother am bitter, and angry. I left my job to support a LGBTQ youth group.
I have given my last fifteen dollars to send a man home to his wife and newborn child across the water because he’d been robbed and lost everything.

I have gotten so many people into recovery I’ve lost count – I have helped to bridge the gap between the rich and poor I have done these things that mean nothing to me simply because I know that if I were in the position of being hungry, homeless, gay, alone, whatever I know there are people who would help me out.

Tonight I have lost my edge. I have realized just how low some people will sink in order to destroy something, not once but twice.

The lies people will tell, the manipulations and the outright complete bullshit people will create just so they can take over something they really have no passion for and no desire to see anything come from is astounding.

It shocks me to my core that those of us who work all our lives to help others have nothing to show for it.

I am luckier than most, blessed far more than most, by the Gods, the Universe, whatever you want to

call this amazing higher power that is watching my back. I know that saying the words “I can’t take any more are futile” because that’s when they’ll send one more betrayal my way only to show me that I can in fact take more, I can in fact survive this but it doesn’t make me feel any better.

I am tired of taking care of other people. I am tired and exhausted and plain out frustrated with the shear volume of people that set out to destroy. I feel hate growing inside of me and that scares me, because I am not a person who does well with hate. I do not do well with feelings of negativity and I am uncertain of how to let it go and find that amazing inner peace other people talk about.

There is no sure way in this life, to surround yourself with only positive people because the only way one can be truly balanced is to have both light and dark in their lives. Too much light and you can’t appriciate your blessings, too much dark and you will break.

I’m not at my breaking point yet but the desire to smash my fist into the face of this latest betrayer is thick, and it runs deep. It will not go unanswered, it’s just a shame that the only answer left is to walk away from what I’ve built over the last year and a half, in order to prove a point – in order to start over with people who actually care.

I finally understand what it means to be a “Lost Girl”, for I am lost and unsure of where my path lays, I know the Universe will show me the way, carry me now that I have fallen but I wish I could see, I am dying to see the light at the end of the tunnel because I fear I have nothing left to give.

Which will now only force the Universe to prove to me just how much more I have left to give.


I am Not the Hand of Evil

For fifteen years I have spent my time serving meals to people who were hungry. I once paid for a man to go to Victoria after he had been robbed and lost his wallet and ID using the last fifteen dollars in my pocket.

Eighteen years ago I gave a broken bat-mobile toy to a little boy, who didn’t get anything else for Christmas.

I have helped people get into recovery, I have helped women find their center. I have done a thousand small things that I don’t talk about that have had huge impacts on their lives. I did this because I knew from the bottom of my heart it was the right thing to do.

I have fought for Gay Rights, I have raised my voice to support people all over the world.

I have made many mistakes, I have surrounded myself with truly awful people who did nothing but take and try to destroy me. I have been up, down, broken and shattered. I have given time and time again, so much of myself that I forgot who I was.

Yesterday I wrote about how guilty I felt for not believing in the Christian God.

I have spent many, many years thinking that there was something wrong with me, because I do not live my life the way that other people do.

I march to the beat of my own drum.

I for a moment, forgot my strengths, I forgot the strength of my own power. I am an amazing person. This is not ego talking it’s experience. I am the kind of friend that you wish for in the darkness when you feel all alone. I’m the one that men search their whole lives for, and over look because I am not skinny and bubbly and perfect.

I am single because I choose to be, because I will not allow my life to be defined by a man. I am single because I haven’t found a man who can accept me for all of me and love me regardless of my weirdness.

I am okay with this. I do not need to go to Church, to cover my tattoos, or pretend to be something I am not just because someone else thinks I should.

The man in question is not my man, he is not a person who loves unconditionally, he is not a friend. A friend, a person who loves unconditionally will see all I’ve done, good and bad, seen all I’ve been through, good and bad, and love me regardless. I am an amazing person. I am a Phenomenal Woman.

Since leaving SUMS people have suggested I go into waitress, working retail, someone even suggested McDonald’s.

I have over 15 years experience working with people who live below the poverty line, who are suffering from mental health issues and drug addiction. I will not lower my standards, or accept less than I deserve just so the people who claim to love me can stop worrying.

This is my life, it’s hard and I am afraid but I know, I have faith that the powers that be love me for all that I am – that they made me this way, so that I can one day do something great.

I do not know what that is, or what my future holds but I know that I will do great things, that I am destined to do great things. I know that my not going to church, does not make me evil.

I say these things because part of my life entails inspiring youth to believe that they can overcome any and all obstacles. If I do not overcome this than I am lying to them, and I will not allow that. I will live myself as if the world were what it should be, to show it what it can be.

I want to be nervous about the future, but I am also excited, because at the moment anything is possible. That is where the fear comes from. I can do anything, I just have to figure out what I want…if anyone out there has any suggestions as to how to figure that out, I’d find it a great help.

Am I the Hands of Satan?


Someone said to me recently “When I help those in need, I am doing Jesus’ Work”. Being that this person has 0 respect for me or my beliefs as a Spiritualist, Witch, whatever you want to call me…I had to ask myself.

What does it mean when I go out of my way to help those in need? Is it the work of Satan just because I am not a Church Going Christian?

I have always believed that the great thing about this world is that we are free to make our own decisions. Growing up Catholic I took some very important lessons from the Bible and my study of Jesus Christ;

1. Thou Shall Not Judge – It isn’t our place to judge others, but instead to live the best lives we can live and do the best we can to enrich the life’s of those around us.

2. Love Thy Neighbor – Jesus said to love your neighbors, even if you dis
agree with them, even if you don’t always like them you’re supposed to treat them with the same respect as you would your family or you know, Jesus.

3. When Jesus was in the home of the Rich he was treated with more respect than those who were poor and hungry. He hated it. He hated  people – any person – being treated better or worse than someone else. He expected to be treated equally at all times, no matter who’s home he was in. He expected the people he surrounded himself with to treat everyone as equals. That was the whole basis for his entire life.

He spent his whole life telling people to be kind, to love, to be respectful, not to hurt others, to treat others with kindness and respect.

I am constantly, and consistently confounded by the fact that the same people who, ha ha, religiously spout off about Jesus and the lessons of God, are the same ones causing so much hurt and pain and suffering in the world.

When people ask me why I’m not a Christian or why I haven’t gone to Church my answer is simply: “My Church is the Environment around me” No matter where I am in the world, or what I am doing, at least once a day I find time to settle my mind, close my eyes and say a little prayer or give thanks for the gifts that have been bestowed upon me.

Sometimes, often lately I find time to bitch and moan – but I do all of these things knowing there is a plan and whilst I might not see it, I may not know where I am going to end up I know in my heart, in my soul, the Fates have plans for me.

I can honestly say I have been truly blessed. Even when times are tough and I am scared and sad, angry and petulant, I know that there is at least one God, and at least one Goddess, I believe in the balance of the universe. I believe no one is above anyone else and I do my best to enrich the lives of so many others around me, that I have cause to wonder…

Why does someone who claim to love Jesus, and all that he taught, so resistant to the idea that His God speaks to me in the only way She knows I’ll respond? Especially when this person constantly pushes his way into my life claiming that he’s there to help?

I honestly admit that I suffer from depression, anxiety and mental health issues. I have for years. This comes from 20+ years of emotional, physical, sexual and verbal abuse. I have spent far more years being a victim than I have being a survivor. I am trying my best to deal with that, to learn to be better and stronger.

Having someone in my life who is constantly judging me, and telling me that I am going to go to hell only does one thing:

It reminds me of the day that Father Alex, from St. James Roman Catholic Church told me I was going to hell 3 days after I was sexually abused for the first time when I was thirteen years old. It compounds and rebirths the abuse that I felt back then and it makes me feel awful about myself.

There is a part of me that says I need to let it go, get over it and I know that I will – but I also know I have the right to decide who I want in my life. Telling someone they are going to hell over and over again when that was a huge child hood trauma, is not okay. This is not a person who is welcome in my life.

Sadly this man is a very good family friend and it looks like he isn’t going anywhere. I am hoping that one of you beautiful readers will have some advice, because his religion tells him that he must Praise the Lord and Bring all non believers into the fold. Mine tells me to let it go until I can’t handle it any more, and then give him a good whollop in the face…which doesn’t really count as “Do No Harm”…so…….do you have any advice?

As it is he will be here in my home tomorrow morning and I’ve decided I will allow this – so long as I am not inside my home whilst he is here.

Yay Me.

Watching Mom Grow

Children are supposed to learn from their parents. They are supposed to watch and ask questions, to smile when they succeed and say thank you for all the lessons learned.

Thirty two years in and my mother, my amazing, creative phenomenal mother is still taking me to school.

As some of you may know, mom was recently fired from her position at Surrey Urban Mission Society.

Most people after fifteen years would have a break down. Not my mother. This is a woman who is continuing on with a grace not many posses.

I want to fight, I want to scream from the rooftops and storm the walls of the building and take back my home, my office. Every part of my being is at a complete loss as to what it is that I am supposed to do next.

Not Jonquil, however.

Jonquil is steam rolling ahead. Her heart, her absolutely phenomenal heart is not surrounded in hatred or self pity, but instead is filled with a love most cannot begin to understand. I am without a doubt so utterly proud of my mother that even as I write this, works cannot begin to describe how I am feeling.

Never in my life have I understood the term “Hero Worship” as I do now.

While mom is out trying to figure out what comes next I however am enjoying the break, the vacation. The chance to relax and hang with my dog. To take long walks when I want to or sit on my butt and do nothing. Is that awful? is it horribly selfish? quite possibly. I am however okay with that.

That being said I should probably start cleaning up the house before she gets back and is annoyed that all I’ve done is watch the Originals.


Jonquil’s Daughter is 32 year old Devon Jessica Hallgate. Affectionately called Devon “Jonquil’s Daughter” Hallgate. 
Having just left their job of 15 years both Devon and Jonquil are searching for a new purpose in the world. This blog is Devon’s way of sharing the lessons, insight and teachings of her amazing wonderful mother, JQ. 
JQ is in her 60s, the former Executive Director of Surrey Urban Mission Society. While JQ Planned and organized events, Devon managed the volunteers and students. Together they created something amazing. 
Now I’m looking for something different. I spent fifteen years helping other people with their goals, their needs and their futures. It’s time for me to be a little selfish. Time for me to figure out what comes next, and whilst I’m excited I’m also terrified. It’s my hope that by sharing these thoughts, fears and lessons maybe I’ll learn how to be as amazing as I think I am. 



Twelve weeks ago, I joined a program called “CLIC” – Community Leaders Igniting Change. We had this beautiful opportunity to partake in a 10 week “Think Tank” like program in which we came up with ideas that would eventually be used to change our communities for the better.

The people in the class were from all across the city and all of us had really beautiful ideas that we were (and are) all very passionate about. The point of the class was to not only come up with ideas to inspire our communities to be better, more connected, but also learn how to make these ideas into a reality.

My idea was B.I.S.H.A and this is the end result.

Using Radio Free Voice, and Skin n Bones Global to promote the project. So I’ve linked it here, for you to take a look at, give me your thoughts, suggestions, ideas, questions and criticisms. Don’t don’t back. I have six months to turn this dream into a reality and with the help of my network of friends and family I am certain I can do this.

So here it is, I now present to you, B.I.S.H.A


BISHA Slide Show