I think if my life had a soundtrack, the best times of my life would be set to John Mayer's Room for Squares or classic James Taylor. When I say the best times of life--I don't necessarily mean those trial-by-fire or challenging best times of life. I mean more the generic "best times" of life where I am genuinely content and satisfied.
When I feel really "right" with the world and content I get a certain look or smile on my face. I didn't really know this until one of my students said I always look at him and smile and nod. I do this when I'm just simply happy---no other thoughts in my mind, content. (sometimes this is out of awkwardness.....what do I say now? I might as well smile.....).
Tonight I had one of these moments. I went into inner-city Dallas to visit some friends from church. They are an older couple that moved into the neighborhood almost a year ago onto a street of newly developed condos. People have come to these condos from all stages of life--there are young couples, some people who live alone, no children. Really an eclectic group.
We had a wonderful evening--I really enjoy visiting people who are learning/living in neighborhoods like theirs. I think it starts to remind me of my time researching. There's something I really enjoy about learning about the sociological issues of an area, seeing the historical factors that created a neighborhood and all the up and coming things. In this area of Dallas we saw the new homeless resource center, some great new arts attractions, a jazz restaurant, and a great apartment complex/artistic urban lofts center.
We met so many people! An artist who lives in his studio inside the old Sears building (http://southsideonlamar.com/) with his dog, a bunch of musicians who moved into a complex together, the owner of a restaurant.
I love walking around with friendly people who have a strong desire to engage, be friendly, and become a part of a community. It really helps inspire me to continue to do similar things in my neighborhood, meet new people, go to random attractions, plays, ask questions when new things are coming in. Maybe it's nosy--but also, why else are we there if we don't care about what's going on around us?
But back to the feeling of contentment. So after a wonderful night out on the town, seeing this great neighborhood and meeting so many interesting people who have moved there, we retired back to their own condo apartment strip, 13 small homes with a great view of downtown Dallas. Sure there are drug dealers and prostitutes on their corner all night long--but it was evident that this group of neighbors were not judgmental or scared people. They loved living in this area---and had come to love one another, as unusual a group they could be!
For those of you who know me from college--I sat back and thought, wow this is like a grown up version of TTT (my friends in school had a weekly party we'd call Totally Tubular Thursday, a no-pressure, small crowd event were the 15-20 of us who had lived in the same freshman dorm committed to be together every Thursday evening). I always loved TTT time because I could have these moments to sit back, not even have to make conversation and just enjoy myself, secure I am known and loved.
I think that's what community is supposed to be about a lot. Joy in being with others, no matter how dramatically different we are from each other--knowing that we in some sense "belong" to one another, we'd give up time to meet a need or listen to an issue. Socialization is effortless and forgiving. It's where you go to have easy conversation and don't have to worry about what you say or even if you have enough to say.
I think it was a profound experience for me to see a marriage of two things I have yet to see some together in my life--my passion and intrigue for urban areas and dilapidated urban centers with friendship and relaxed good times. In my life in Washington, most of my friends live in the Virginia suburbs where I always have to take a lot of time and effort to get to them and spend time together. How grateful I've been this year for my friend who lives even in my same quadrant of the city. Pray for friends who live nearby--and who have a desire to spend some good, carefree time together!!! I felt very happy for my friends that they had found this--fun and camaraderie in the midst of such an exciting and interesting location.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
She was 19
Tonight I went with my home church (I'm back home for a month to rest and raise support for the next year) to a meal in downtown Fort Worth that feeds mostly homeless people.
I've been to this weekly meal probably 4 or 5 times now, it's different style than many soup kitchens because volunteers sit with the guests and we eat family style.
So I was a table "host" tonight to 7 people, one homeless man who'd been at my table I'm almost certain the year before, a blind man with a female companion, a woman in a wheel chair with a male companion, and another couple. All were black except the last couple--a white girl and an older hispanic man, both looking to be mid to late 20s.
When the last couple walked in, the woman looked annoyed--I asked her name and tried to start a conversation but she blew me off. The man with her was very friendly and said she was suffering from heat stroke (it's upwards of 90 most days here now) from being outside all day.
Within 5 minutes she was talking non-stop.
She started talking about how her baby had been taken from her because she didn't have a place to live--her 9 month old. I gathered a lot more through the one hour with them. She grew up in child protective services herself, the child of two drug addicts who unashamedly talked about using drugs. She said she met the guy she was with at Salvation Army, he didn't like the story of how she got there because it involved her being raped alot. She said she didn't care about being raped because it had happened to her again and again over almost her whole lifetime--I think she said age 3? I asked if it was a family member, she said yes.
She had lost the money she was saving to start renting some place when being raped another time and couldn't keep a job because of health problems--she was hypoglycemic and carried a few prescriptions with her.
Yes, I do know many homeless suffer from mental problems so it is difficult to be sure of the validity of many of her stories--but it was heart breaking to hear. Defeat after defeat.
And all this in a setting where for the most part people don't go on pouring out their life stories....they simply come in and eat, engaging with simple, polite conversation but rarely anything more.
As the church service part of the evening started, everyone else at the table had left except this couple. A baby across the room started to cry and she started to lose it thinking of her own girl. After awhile they offered anyone interested to get communion. They both got up and I followed them, taking the opportunity, and probably out of a lot of curiosity to ask how old she was. She was 19.
My guess--maybe 26? surely older than me. Of course, there's the fact that she's younger than me, having been pregnant and now depending on an older man, very nice mind-you, but someone she met at a shelter. But actually it was the realization that as my heart broke for her--and I started to cry for the first time in a setting like this, I'm usually the strong, seasoned volunteer type.......realizing I work with 19 year old women all the time. I lead a bible study of 19 year old women, watched them grow, develop and blossom. And here was another 19 year old in a completely different station of life. How far she seemed from the whimsical women of Georgetown!
I felt my heart wanting to do the things I usually do with 19 year old girls, sit them down, listen, follow up with them, pursue their needs. But like this program facilitated, I watched them walk through the door. Who are the people out there doing my kind of job with girls like her? How different my skills would need to be! I was surprised to see my gut reaction to her pain---and yet the commonality--how she talked about how when she came into a church she usually just found herself "talking and talking, then praying to Jesus---and it doesn't make the pain go away."
Somehow, unlike when i've heard similar comments from people of older ages who I don't think I'd know how to respond talking about spiritual difficulty or the pains of being in poverty except to say "i know" or something equally moronic--I somehow thought I could relate a little better, having been that young before......though how worlds apart our lives have been.
I've been to this weekly meal probably 4 or 5 times now, it's different style than many soup kitchens because volunteers sit with the guests and we eat family style.
So I was a table "host" tonight to 7 people, one homeless man who'd been at my table I'm almost certain the year before, a blind man with a female companion, a woman in a wheel chair with a male companion, and another couple. All were black except the last couple--a white girl and an older hispanic man, both looking to be mid to late 20s.
When the last couple walked in, the woman looked annoyed--I asked her name and tried to start a conversation but she blew me off. The man with her was very friendly and said she was suffering from heat stroke (it's upwards of 90 most days here now) from being outside all day.
Within 5 minutes she was talking non-stop.
She started talking about how her baby had been taken from her because she didn't have a place to live--her 9 month old. I gathered a lot more through the one hour with them. She grew up in child protective services herself, the child of two drug addicts who unashamedly talked about using drugs. She said she met the guy she was with at Salvation Army, he didn't like the story of how she got there because it involved her being raped alot. She said she didn't care about being raped because it had happened to her again and again over almost her whole lifetime--I think she said age 3? I asked if it was a family member, she said yes.
She had lost the money she was saving to start renting some place when being raped another time and couldn't keep a job because of health problems--she was hypoglycemic and carried a few prescriptions with her.
Yes, I do know many homeless suffer from mental problems so it is difficult to be sure of the validity of many of her stories--but it was heart breaking to hear. Defeat after defeat.
And all this in a setting where for the most part people don't go on pouring out their life stories....they simply come in and eat, engaging with simple, polite conversation but rarely anything more.
As the church service part of the evening started, everyone else at the table had left except this couple. A baby across the room started to cry and she started to lose it thinking of her own girl. After awhile they offered anyone interested to get communion. They both got up and I followed them, taking the opportunity, and probably out of a lot of curiosity to ask how old she was. She was 19.
My guess--maybe 26? surely older than me. Of course, there's the fact that she's younger than me, having been pregnant and now depending on an older man, very nice mind-you, but someone she met at a shelter. But actually it was the realization that as my heart broke for her--and I started to cry for the first time in a setting like this, I'm usually the strong, seasoned volunteer type.......realizing I work with 19 year old women all the time. I lead a bible study of 19 year old women, watched them grow, develop and blossom. And here was another 19 year old in a completely different station of life. How far she seemed from the whimsical women of Georgetown!
I felt my heart wanting to do the things I usually do with 19 year old girls, sit them down, listen, follow up with them, pursue their needs. But like this program facilitated, I watched them walk through the door. Who are the people out there doing my kind of job with girls like her? How different my skills would need to be! I was surprised to see my gut reaction to her pain---and yet the commonality--how she talked about how when she came into a church she usually just found herself "talking and talking, then praying to Jesus---and it doesn't make the pain go away."
Somehow, unlike when i've heard similar comments from people of older ages who I don't think I'd know how to respond talking about spiritual difficulty or the pains of being in poverty except to say "i know" or something equally moronic--I somehow thought I could relate a little better, having been that young before......though how worlds apart our lives have been.
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