"We looked for the homeless here," I said. Not really to anyone in particular, but not exactly quiet enough for no one to hear.
I haven't been able to shake the homeless surveys yet. I walk down Green Street and I see the places we looked. We turn corners and I see the abandoned restaurant. I see the bridges we looked under and the dumpsters we opened.
It looks different in the daylight.
It's funny how something that used to just be part of the landscape suddenly became real and... alive. Those just aren't street corners anymore... they're "homes"... and that changes the scenery.
Yesterday I was walking down Green Street with a friend and we walked by Walgreens, a typical panhandling spot. I saw Ben, one of the homeless men I befriended. He was sitting with his friend Matt and they were surrounded by cops. They seemed to be arguing and trying to prove something. I saw Ben reach into his wallet to pull out ID.
I wasn't sure what to do, but I wanted to do something. And instead... I did nothing. Oh, if my loose change would change anything, they could have it all. I wish that buying them a meal or sitting and talking or carrying out surveys would DO something...
But it doesn't. They're still homeless.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Keep your coins... we want change
My heart rattled violently inside of my chest. The door opened easily and Jason and Justin stepped right into the abandoned restaurant. I took one look at the dark alley behind me and decided I'd take my chances with the creepy old restaurant. We stepped over cardboard and jumped into what used to be the arcade area of this pizza place. Our three flashlights suddenly didn't seem so bright. The ceiling seemed very tall.
"Hello? We're not with police. We're conducting surveys and have a $5 gift card to a restaurant," Jason called.
Silence listened.
This is how scary movies begin. The thought crept into my mind and the realization of where we were hit me... like a punch in the stomach. I don't watch scary movies, but I was pretty sure that this is how they began. Three curious, altruistic people climbing through abandoned restaurants... I swallowed, though my mouth felt like cotton and tried to think rationally.
I tried to pretend I was brave, but in reality, I ended up following Jason into every room he entered. I was unwilling to shine my flashlight into corners-- by myself.
I was relieved when Justin and Jason felt satisfied that no one was in the restaurant and headed toward the door. I was only too ready to exit... after all, we had only found evidences, but no people.
Have you ever been in those situations when you know that no one could imagine what you were doing in that moment, even if they tried? Have you tried put together facts and impressions with what was currently happening, and struggled to find coherence? I feel like I get that way too often.
This week I have been volunteering with an NGO in Champaign (C-U at Home. Check their website out here). According to their website, "C-U at Home will be administering a very detailed vulnerability index survey in Champaign County [...] The goal of this survey is very specifically to determine who, among the homeless population, is most at risk of dying if their housing circumstances do not change." They have been (and will be) conducting surveys at various shelters and soup kitchens in the surrounding area, but none of those shifts fit my schedule. One shift, however, fit fine... ish.
I was placed on the "street teams" from 4:00 to 6:00 am on Monday and Tuesday mornings. Our goal? find the homeless in Champaign who were unable/unwilling to sleep in shelters during the night. Apparently, if someone is on the streets between 4:00 and 6:00 am, they are most likely homeless... and so we went, carrying our flashlights, searching for the marginalized.
Monday was pretty unsuccessful as far as numbers were concerned. We had four street teams out, and only one (my team) found any homeless individuals. We asked if we could survey him and he consented. His answers saddened me, knowing that his simple "yes" to hypothermia screamed so much more than a small check on a box. Affirmative answers to alcohol/substance abuse, being the victim of violence and more than 10 years on the street squeezed my heart and made it ache. A final reply to the question about dreams and ambitions made it hard to breathe.
"Death."
And the whole experience of searching for humans in bushes, under bridges, in and around dumpsters and in dark alleys was extremely unnerving. I suppose I knew that the homeless had to find SOMEWHERE to sleep if they weren't in shelters... but actually going through the motions of going to those places really shook me up. Every time I opened a dumpster, my breath caught in my throat, as I imagined opening the lid and finding a human huddled inside. I tried to imagine shining a flashlight under a bush and finding someone curled under the foliage.
This morning we walked over a small hill and found two men inside of sleeping bags. The scene felt unreal. We gently woke one of them up-- he gladly and excitedly agreed to answer some questions in exchange for a food gift card. Homeless by choice, he was on his way back home via hitchhiking. His cardboard sign read, "Pls. EAST." His passion and joy was apparent. He shared amusing anecdotes and told us jokes. He spoke of his children fondly. And he even wanted a group picture with us. My heart swelled.
Later, as we headed back toward our car, I spotted a man crumpled up against a wall. My heart sank. We approached him and saw him shivering. Jason ran back to the car and retrieved some gloves. As I initiated contact, he agreed to be surveyed, but his answers were hard to decipher due to mumbling and extreme quietness. He's one of the most vulnerable, I remember thinking as we walked away.
...One of the ones who is at risk of dying if something doesn't change... soon.
"Hello? We're not with police. We're conducting surveys and have a $5 gift card to a restaurant," Jason called.
Silence listened.
This is how scary movies begin. The thought crept into my mind and the realization of where we were hit me... like a punch in the stomach. I don't watch scary movies, but I was pretty sure that this is how they began. Three curious, altruistic people climbing through abandoned restaurants... I swallowed, though my mouth felt like cotton and tried to think rationally.
I tried to pretend I was brave, but in reality, I ended up following Jason into every room he entered. I was unwilling to shine my flashlight into corners-- by myself.
I was relieved when Justin and Jason felt satisfied that no one was in the restaurant and headed toward the door. I was only too ready to exit... after all, we had only found evidences, but no people.
Have you ever been in those situations when you know that no one could imagine what you were doing in that moment, even if they tried? Have you tried put together facts and impressions with what was currently happening, and struggled to find coherence? I feel like I get that way too often.
This week I have been volunteering with an NGO in Champaign (C-U at Home. Check their website out here). According to their website, "C-U at Home will be administering a very detailed vulnerability index survey in Champaign County [...] The goal of this survey is very specifically to determine who, among the homeless population, is most at risk of dying if their housing circumstances do not change." They have been (and will be) conducting surveys at various shelters and soup kitchens in the surrounding area, but none of those shifts fit my schedule. One shift, however, fit fine... ish.
I was placed on the "street teams" from 4:00 to 6:00 am on Monday and Tuesday mornings. Our goal? find the homeless in Champaign who were unable/unwilling to sleep in shelters during the night. Apparently, if someone is on the streets between 4:00 and 6:00 am, they are most likely homeless... and so we went, carrying our flashlights, searching for the marginalized.
Monday was pretty unsuccessful as far as numbers were concerned. We had four street teams out, and only one (my team) found any homeless individuals. We asked if we could survey him and he consented. His answers saddened me, knowing that his simple "yes" to hypothermia screamed so much more than a small check on a box. Affirmative answers to alcohol/substance abuse, being the victim of violence and more than 10 years on the street squeezed my heart and made it ache. A final reply to the question about dreams and ambitions made it hard to breathe.
"Death."
And the whole experience of searching for humans in bushes, under bridges, in and around dumpsters and in dark alleys was extremely unnerving. I suppose I knew that the homeless had to find SOMEWHERE to sleep if they weren't in shelters... but actually going through the motions of going to those places really shook me up. Every time I opened a dumpster, my breath caught in my throat, as I imagined opening the lid and finding a human huddled inside. I tried to imagine shining a flashlight under a bush and finding someone curled under the foliage.
This morning we walked over a small hill and found two men inside of sleeping bags. The scene felt unreal. We gently woke one of them up-- he gladly and excitedly agreed to answer some questions in exchange for a food gift card. Homeless by choice, he was on his way back home via hitchhiking. His cardboard sign read, "Pls. EAST." His passion and joy was apparent. He shared amusing anecdotes and told us jokes. He spoke of his children fondly. And he even wanted a group picture with us. My heart swelled.
Later, as we headed back toward our car, I spotted a man crumpled up against a wall. My heart sank. We approached him and saw him shivering. Jason ran back to the car and retrieved some gloves. As I initiated contact, he agreed to be surveyed, but his answers were hard to decipher due to mumbling and extreme quietness. He's one of the most vulnerable, I remember thinking as we walked away.
...One of the ones who is at risk of dying if something doesn't change... soon.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Calling
"You choose to allow your calling to be shaped by those with whom you enter into relationship with," Melinda, my mentor, explained. It sounded so basic, so elementary, and yet... so new. My calling isn't some pristine concept that can't be touched or changed? Oh wait, people influence and even change my "calling?"
I nodded my head a lot more convincingly than my heart was feeling. It made sense... I mean, it seemed like it should make sense. Of course what we do in life is heavily influenced by who we interact with.
"That's why knowing Jesus changes us... because we're in a relationship with him... relationships transform," she continued.
But that fear was there... I didn't want my calling, my dream, my desire, my passion of working with the poor outside of America to change. That wasn't in my plans. But really, when does God do ANYTHING according to my "plans?" Not often.
Maybe he isn't going to change that passion... maybe he is still going to send me deep into some slum or away to some remote village. Maybe. But maybe, he'll shape my desires and change my heart, through my interactions with people... people I allow to come close. And maybe its not about the poor... maybe its about my grip on this dream. Maybe that's what its about.
God didn't promise he wouldn't ask for the dream back.
Because in the end, its a lot more about following him, then following my "calling"...
I nodded my head a lot more convincingly than my heart was feeling. It made sense... I mean, it seemed like it should make sense. Of course what we do in life is heavily influenced by who we interact with.
"That's why knowing Jesus changes us... because we're in a relationship with him... relationships transform," she continued.
But that fear was there... I didn't want my calling, my dream, my desire, my passion of working with the poor outside of America to change. That wasn't in my plans. But really, when does God do ANYTHING according to my "plans?" Not often.
Maybe he isn't going to change that passion... maybe he is still going to send me deep into some slum or away to some remote village. Maybe. But maybe, he'll shape my desires and change my heart, through my interactions with people... people I allow to come close. And maybe its not about the poor... maybe its about my grip on this dream. Maybe that's what its about.
God didn't promise he wouldn't ask for the dream back.
Because in the end, its a lot more about following him, then following my "calling"...
Friday, October 7, 2011
Desire
My heart catches in my throat and tears fill my eyes. This is beautiful.
Tyler informed me that she had found my life story online and she sent me the link. I opened it and couldn't stop reading this blog. Kisses from Katie. You can read it here. Katie's 22. She's lived in Uganda since graduating from high school. Since then she's adopted 14 girls and runs an NGO that supports over 400 orphans. It was so beautiful.
I kept reading while tears streamed down my face. The usual questions flooded through my mind. What am I even doing here? Why am I receiving a world-class education? When will I be there-- with the poor? And, I find that usually... I know the answers to those questions. I know that God has asked me to be here, in the middle of wealth and privilege, because he's preparing me. He's molding my heart. He's sanctifying me. He's challenging me. He's purifying me.
I know that he is.
Over the last year, I've struggled with this passion of mine a lot. I've prayed through my motives and struggled through my fears. I've tried to figure out if this desire is just a desire for adventure and an aversion to America. But I don't think that's what it is...
I want to live with the poor. I want to love and serve them. I want my ministry to be my life. I want dirty children clinging to me... I want to teach them to cling to Jesus. I want to have a home open to all who are thirsty... all who are hungry... all who are in need of love. I want it to witness redemption everyday. My heart cries out... to be there, to love in that way.
Tyler informed me that she had found my life story online and she sent me the link. I opened it and couldn't stop reading this blog. Kisses from Katie. You can read it here. Katie's 22. She's lived in Uganda since graduating from high school. Since then she's adopted 14 girls and runs an NGO that supports over 400 orphans. It was so beautiful.
I kept reading while tears streamed down my face. The usual questions flooded through my mind. What am I even doing here? Why am I receiving a world-class education? When will I be there-- with the poor? And, I find that usually... I know the answers to those questions. I know that God has asked me to be here, in the middle of wealth and privilege, because he's preparing me. He's molding my heart. He's sanctifying me. He's challenging me. He's purifying me.
I know that he is.
Over the last year, I've struggled with this passion of mine a lot. I've prayed through my motives and struggled through my fears. I've tried to figure out if this desire is just a desire for adventure and an aversion to America. But I don't think that's what it is...
I want to live with the poor. I want to love and serve them. I want my ministry to be my life. I want dirty children clinging to me... I want to teach them to cling to Jesus. I want to have a home open to all who are thirsty... all who are hungry... all who are in need of love. I want it to witness redemption everyday. My heart cries out... to be there, to love in that way.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
You are an instrument and God is the conductor
I love seeing the trees turn into a magnificent explosion of color. I love hearing the fallen leaves sweep across the pavement as they're blown and tossed in the wind. I love the cool breezes and warm sunshine. I love the smell of fall.
I love fall.
Fall means sleeping with the windows open. Fall means barn dances. Fall means pies and warm drinks.
Fall also means the semester is halfway over.
If I allow myself to dwell on that fact for a little too long, I have moments of panic. The list of spring courses came out yesterday, and course selection is coming up. Of course I haven't even opened the website. Study abroad applications are due in two months. Haven't started that application yet. Plane tickets to Colombia aren't getting cheaper... should probably get on that.
And time keeps ticking... it doesn't feel like it simply passes on by... it rushes and surges through us.
In the midst of busyness and to-do lists, it's hard to find rest in God's presence. It's easy to get discouraged. It's easy to fall into simply going through the motions. It's easy to focus on my mistakes and shortcomings.
A good friend of mine sent me this today:
It's as if you're an instrument, Viviana, and God is the conductor. You have the opportunity to play a variety of selections, and as long as you continue to follow God's guidance, you won't even notice the occasional missed beat. The mistakes will blend in with those around you who are making music with God as their conductor, and it will all become a beautiful chorus of praise.
I love fall.
Fall means sleeping with the windows open. Fall means barn dances. Fall means pies and warm drinks.
Fall also means the semester is halfway over.
If I allow myself to dwell on that fact for a little too long, I have moments of panic. The list of spring courses came out yesterday, and course selection is coming up. Of course I haven't even opened the website. Study abroad applications are due in two months. Haven't started that application yet. Plane tickets to Colombia aren't getting cheaper... should probably get on that.
And time keeps ticking... it doesn't feel like it simply passes on by... it rushes and surges through us.
In the midst of busyness and to-do lists, it's hard to find rest in God's presence. It's easy to get discouraged. It's easy to fall into simply going through the motions. It's easy to focus on my mistakes and shortcomings.
A good friend of mine sent me this today:
It's as if you're an instrument, Viviana, and God is the conductor. You have the opportunity to play a variety of selections, and as long as you continue to follow God's guidance, you won't even notice the occasional missed beat. The mistakes will blend in with those around you who are making music with God as their conductor, and it will all become a beautiful chorus of praise.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)