peterpan1698

The Bowl of Soup at The Mustard Seed

A chapter of myautobiography of Climbing Over the Mountains

【攀越群山】自传章节之一

How can a wealthy country allow somany people to be reduced to survival — waiting for soup, shelter, and aworker’s attention?

That question stayed in my heart afterI visited The Mustard Seed in Calgary. It became something I could not easilyforget.

That morning, I did not plan to gothere. I was simply trying to find the correct address for 520 Massage Clinic /Support Community. Because of a confusing address, I was led to the wrongplace.

But sometimes, a wrong directionbrings a person to a truth he was not expecting to see.

I first entered the building only toconfirm whether it was the address I was looking for. When I saw the name “TheMustard Seed” on the door, I did not know what kind of place it was. Curiosityled me to knock. A gentleman welcomed me inside and kindly explained that thiswas the head office, and that if I needed community support, I could go totheir public service location. He also explained that The Mustard Seed is aChristian organization that provides support to people in the community.

Even the size of the head officecaught my attention. It made me wonder how large the need must be for such anorganization to exist on that scale.

Later, when I entered the publicservice location of The Mustard Seed, I saw many people who were morevulnerable than I was. Some were waiting quietly. Some looked tired. Someseemed to have already carried too much suffering for too long. They were notmerely “homeless people.” They were human beings standing at the edge of manysocial failures: housing, health, poverty, trauma, addiction, loneliness, andbureaucracy.

At the counter, a clerk patientlytried to understand whether they could provide support for my situation. Shetold me that when the office opened, I could speak with staff about thedifficulties I was facing. Then she offered me a bowl of soup. I believe shemay have thought I had not eaten breakfast.

The soup was warm. It was thick, madewith beans and potatoes, and the taste was not bad at all. It gave my body alittle comfort. But behind that bowl of soup, I saw a much larger question: howmany people had already been failed before they arrived at this table?

Canada is a wealthy country. It hashospitals, social benefits, shelters, community organizations, public agencies,human rights systems, ombudsman offices, courts, legal aid, and many officialprograms. On paper, these systems are designed to protect society, maintainpeace, and help citizens live with dignity.

Yet sitting there with that bowl ofsoup, I saw the weakness of the system. From the size of The Mustard Seedoperation alone, one could feel how large the need must be. It seemed to methat many workers and volunteers were serving the public in that location. Thescale itself raised a painful question: why does a rich society need such alarge emergency support structure for so many people who have already falleninto crisis?

A society may have many services, manyoffices, many programs, and many beautiful words. But when people are stillreduced to waiting for food, shelter, and someone’s limited attention, we mustask whether the system has truly protected the vulnerable.

The bowl of soup warmed the body, butthe question behind it was cold.

Why must so many people reach thepoint of survival before society sees them?

Why must a person become homeless,hungry, sick, broken, or desperate before help becomes visible?

Why do public systems often wait untila life has already collapsed before they respond?

A compassionate country should notwait until people are standing in line for soup before asking what happened tothem. True protection should begin earlier — before the family breaks, beforethe business collapses, before the person loses housing, before mental healthis destroyed, and before a citizen is forced to stand alone against a systemtoo large to understand.

At The Mustard Seed, I also had toface a painful truth: I had become one of the vulnerable too.

This was especially painful becauseCanada had once opened its door to me with hope. When I immigrated, I wasselected by a federal immigration officer under an exceptional consideration,even though Canada already had many cooks at that time. I believe he saw thatmy knowledge, skills, work experience, and specialties might contribute toCanadian cuisine and Canadian society.

But the reality of my life in Canadabecame far more complicated than simply contributing culinary skills.

I did contribute through work,restaurants, business ownership, cultural food, and community life. But inanother painful way, my family and I also became people who personallyexperienced many layers of Canadian systems: government administration, healthcare, medical and psychiatric systems, civil and criminal justice systems,police systems, professional inspection systems, human rights bodies, ombudsmanoffices, legal regulators, and court processes.

The price my family paid was extremelyheavy.

I believe my father was treatedthrough medical and institutional processes in a way that left deep questionsin my heart until his death. My late wife lost her life in circumstances whereI believe bureaucracy, medical delay, institutional failure, and inspection-systemweakness all played painful roles. My own business and personal life were alsodeeply damaged when I became involved as a witness in matters connected withpolice investigations and public-interest concerns, including matters involvingorganized crime and fraud allegations. When those systems no longer had enoughability or willingness to protect the person who had cooperated with them, Ifelt they simply walked away and pretended not to see the consequences leftbehind.

In my experience, the harm did notremain abstract. It affected my restaurants, my finances, my health, and myfamily stability. I lost my restaurant Sawatdee. In another matter involvingcompensation connected to a rented building that became a historical site,others were able to receive compensation while I believe the business loss andcompensation issue that should have protected my restaurant was not fairlyhandled.

I also suffered through medical andpsychiatric struggles. Anti-depression treatment caused terrible side effects.A urological procedure nearly led to the loss of my left testicle. I also hadto fight to regain my freedom after a psychiatric process involving Dr. EricDavis and the court system resulted in my confinement in a mental institution.I eventually had to reach the Tribunal administratif du Québec to obtainrelease and protect myself from what I believed was a serious misuse of thesystem against me.

I was also forced to struggle with theBank of Montreal after losing a major business opportunity involving an OpiumThai chain project connected with the Royal Thai Kingdom Export PromotionDivision. That project, in my view, was damaged by the consequences of earlierpolice-related matters and the instability created around my business life. Iestimate the loss at about $200,000.

At the same time, I had to fight onmany fronts: complaints involving legal representatives and the Barreau duQuébec; complaints to the Collège des médecins du Québec; matters involving theQuebec Human Rights Commission, the Quebec Ombudsman, MUC Police Headquarters,and other offices. Each door required time, documents, emotional energy, andpersistence. Each process promised some form of accountability, but too often Ifelt that the deeper truth was avoided, delayed, or buried under procedure.

That is why, when I sat inside TheMustard Seed with a bowl of soup, I was not only looking at homelessness fromthe outside. I was looking at the edge of vulnerability from my own life.

Not because I chose it. Not because Idid not work hard. Not because I lacked responsibility. I had worked fordecades. I had built businesses. I had raised children. I had contributed tocommunities. I had tried to live with dignity and independence.

But years of legal pressure, healthissues, housing insecurity, bureaucratic struggle, and long conflict withpublic systems pushed me close to the same line where many others werestanding.

That was not easy for me to admit.

Yet when I looked around, I also knewthat many people there were in even worse situations. Some may have lost notonly housing, but also family, health, identity, hope, and the ability to speakfor themselves. Some may no longer have the strength to explain their story.Some may no longer believe anyone will listen.

Their suffering did not reduce mine.Instead, it helped me understand that my own case was part of a larger socialwound.

We cannot simply blame “the system” asif the system were only a machine. Canada has built many systems with goodintentions: health care, shelters, human rights commissions, ombudsman offices,courts, social benefits, legal aid, and community agencies. In theory, thesesystems exist layer after layer to protect people.

But even a good system can fail whenthe people who hold power inside it become too proud of their position, tooprotective of their authority, too interested in convenience, or too concernedwith institutional reputation.

When public power is used to showauthority instead of serving people, the system begins to lose its soul.

When an office exists mainly toprotect its own process, rather than to protect the people it was created toserve, the system becomes cold.

When rules become more important thanhuman lives, the system may still look official, but it has already begun tofail morally.

The most painful failure happens whenthe “recovery systems” themselves become decorative vases.

Human Rights Commissions and Ombudsmanoffices are supposed to be places where civilians can turn after sufferingunfair treatment. They are supposed to be safety valves in a democraticsociety. They are supposed to provide hope when ordinary systems fail.

But if those offices stand only inform, without courage, independence, compassion, or real protection, then whatshould vulnerable citizens expect?

Where should they go after theordinary system has already hurt them?

If a person is harmed by bureaucracy,and then the complaint system only creates more bureaucracy, what kind ofprotection is that?

If a vulnerable person knocks on onedoor after another, only to be told each time that the office has nojurisdiction, no mandate, no file, no authority, no power, or noresponsibility, then the system may appear complete from the outside whilebecoming empty from the inside.

A society is not protected only bybeautiful laws or official offices. It is protected by the conscience of thepeople who operate those offices.

Without conscience, even a perfectsystem can become a cold wall.

That day, the bowl of soup helped mesee something clearly: public systems must not be judged only by theirstructure. They must be judged by their results.

Did they prevent people from falling?

Did they hear people before thecrisis?

Did they protect the weak before theweak became invisible?

Did they respond before a human beingwas reduced to survival?

Did they serve people, or did theymerely process files?

This is why my story is not only aboutone person, one property, one court file, one village, one loss, or onegrievance. My story is about what happens when ordinary citizens fall betweensystems.

A person can be sent from one officeto another, one agency to another, one court to another, one complaint processto another, until the person becomes exhausted. Each office may say it followedits own rules. Each official may say the matter belongs somewhere else. Eachsystem may protect itself. But the human being in the middle continues tosuffer.

The file moves.

The person breaks.

This is the part our society mustlearn to see.

I do not deny the kindness that existsin Canada. I have seen kindness. My children were educated here. My familyreceived opportunities here. Many individual workers, volunteers, doctors,social workers, teachers, clerks, and ordinary citizens have shown care anddecency.

Even at The Mustard Seed, that bowl ofsoup itself represented kindness. It represented people trying to help.

When the office opened, the clerklistened patiently as I tried to explain the crises I was suffering through.Another clerk noticed my dry cough and brought me a bottle of water. These weresmall actions, but they carried real humanity.

In that moment, I could not helpasking God: why are people with this kind of kindness, patience,responsibility, and sense of duty not the ones working inside some of ourgovernment agencies, justice offices, and independent oversight bodies? Why dothe people at the bottom of the service system sometimes show more humanconscience than the people who hold official authority over people’s lives?

But kindness at the bottom cannotexcuse failure at the top.

Charity is important, but charityshould not become the final replacement for justice. Soup is necessary whenpeople are hungry, but a society must also ask why so many people became hungryin the first place. Shelter is necessary when people have nowhere to sleep, buta society must also ask why so many people lost housing, health, family, andstability before help arrived.

A bowl of soup can warm the body for amoment.

But only justice, accountability, andhuman conscience can begin to heal the deeper wound.

After I began sharing my storypublicly, 56BelowTV replied and expressed interest in learning more about myexperience. That response gave me a small sense of hope. Perhaps my story mayhelp others understand not only my personal struggle, but also the largerchallenges faced by vulnerable immigrants, seniors, self-represented litigants,small business owners, and ordinary citizens dealing with public systems.

I do not want my suffering to remainonly as private pain.

If my experience can help wake up thesystem, protect future victims, and help Canada improve the way itsinstitutions respond to vulnerable people, then my struggle may still carrymeaning beyond myself.

The bowl of soup at The Mustard Seedwas simple.

But to me, it became a mirror.

In that mirror, I saw homelessness. Isaw poverty. I saw exhaustion. I saw bureaucracy. I saw kindness. I sawfailure. I saw myself. I saw Canada’s promise. I also saw Canada’s unfinishedresponsibility.

A wealthy country should not besatisfied merely because it can offer soup to the fallen.

A truly compassionate country must askwhy so many people are falling.

And a just country must do everythingit can to help people stand before they are forced to wait in line forsurvival.

Writer: Peterpan1668 (Peter Zhen Guo Pan 潘振国)            Written on June 18,2026