Check Me Out

At the start of every SPEC retreat, we go around and introduce our team. We share some things about ourselves and such.... some stick to one intro, I often randomly share whatever it is I want to that day. Oftentimes funny stories go over well- and this month brought me one I now found myself sharing in my intro....

A handful of us had gone out to "Home Base", a Lowes/HomeDepot type store to shop for paint for SPEC's redecorating project. While there, I picked up some Frebreeze. (Nothing like spraying some casually on your sheets and clothes!) I made my way to the check out. That is, what they call in England a "till." I have become very much aware of this fact. As I approached said till, there was a good lookin' guy behind the counter. Probably too young for me, but I digress....
I stepped up to the counter and not thinking twice asked, "Can you check me out??" While this question might come out a little funny in the states, it came out a lot funny in a country that doesn't even call it a check out. The poor chap looked confused...until I broke the silence with my All-American smile. He eventually said, "Ohhh! Are you from America??" We continued some small talk-- the exchange is often the same.. I mention I'm from Pittsburgh he replies with something he knows about Pennsylvania (usually Philadelphia)-- yada yada yada.

And that was the day I stood with Frebreeze in hand and asked to be checked out by a young man at an English till.

I apoogize for my lack of posting...

Life has gotten pretty crazy. Or crazier, I suppose. But that doesn't excuse the fact that I haven't written in nearly four months. I am going to try and write more often. For now, though, I thought I would share the piece I wrote for EqUIP, EUIP's newsletter kind of thing. Each intern takes a turn writing a reflection for the newsletter and this month was my turn.

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“Any socks today?” Rob asked, lifting up his pant leg to show me his sock-less foot stuffed into a sneaker at least two sizes too small. I shook my head.
“Sorry, we’re still out of them. Hopefully we’ll be getting some soon?” I had to phrase it as a question because I had no idea when we’d have socks to hand out again.


I see over one hundred different youth each month, most of whom don’t have a place to stay; a job; or enough money for a meal. They come to Common Ground to get a few of the things they can’t afford for themselves and to get away from the drama of the streets for a few hours. I quickly learned that I wouldn’t be able to give my “clients” (as we call anyone who utilizes services at Common Ground) everything they need. I have a limited supply of socks and blankets to give out, and only when the agency is lucky enough to get them. I pass out some food, but it’s never quite enough to fill stomachs.

I love my job, but it is also heartbreaking. In the last five months, I’ve encountered issues of intense poverty, addiction, and abuse. I constantly have to break bad news to people, whether it’s telling them we don’t have enough food for second helpings or telling them we don’t have any blankets even though it will be rainy and 40 degrees that night. When the food, socks, and blankets run out, though, I can still sit and talk. I try my best to listen to the people who usually get ignored and the stories that often go untold.

Last week, I ran into a former client of mine who had come back to the agency to meet with another staff member. I’d only met with him once and was sure he’d forgotten me, but I was wrong. He came up to me and enthusiastically shook my hand, telling me how grateful he was for me just sitting and talking with him. Despite the frustrations of my job, I’ve realized that I am making a difference. It constantly amazes me how something as easy as lending an ear can make such a huge difference. I may not be able to do everything I would like to do, but I’ll just keep doing what I can, even if it is simply a ministry of presence.

My modern day wailing wall.

Don't expect this to be the norm. Two posts in one night. Unlikely. But here we go again. I struggle with so much. Particularly lately though I feel lament laying on my heart. In our culture we've really lost the power of lament. The power of being so angry at God that we throw our hands, fists, voices up in defiance. Not because we doubt the goodness of God, but precisely because we believe powerfully and deeply in the goodness of God. Disappointment is such a powerful part of relationship. We have expectations. Let's be honest about that. And because not everyone can always get what they want or even articulate what they want, expectations aren't met. And let's be really honest: shitty things happen. Haiti, Chicago, LA, Columbus. Kids aren't coming from safe homes, teenagers are testing positive for life changing diseases, parents can't feed their families, an entire country is torn apart by the deepest devastation (don't even get me started on those people that say we should be helping our own first...that's a whole other rant). But if my options are yelling or silence? I'm going to choose yelling. If that's the only way I can keep in conversation and relation with God, then that's what it's going to be. And that's what it should be. God can handle it. God deserves my honesty. God already knows it (I guess), why shouldn't I be able to say it? So I'm interested in thoughts about expressing lament. Here's one expression of lament I'd like to share (again stolen from another blog, but great nonetheless).

Psalm 151 by Mae Jackson

Thanks poet-writer Mae Jackson for submitting your poem to the blog as an example of what a modern psalm of lament might sound like.
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I wonder who’s gonna be so bold as to
walk up to God and say
“ Brother man,
What’s up with this?”

Who’s gonna call God to the floor
check his agenda for disaster
censor his freedom of speech…
take away his position the way they did Amiri Baraka
when
he
wondered
out loud
“who blew up america?”

the last I heard
270,000 people of color were
wiped out
just like that

without a word of warning
the ocean opened up its mouth
swellings
until it had reached it natural capacity for mass consumption and destruction
sucking out the life of
my sisters
my brothers

our children
can not breath
they can not live
they will not live

Hey you
(I say to God)
What you got against people of color?
What you got against the poor?
What you got against working class folks?

And he replied
“whatever”

who’s gonna accuse God of murder
throw him in jail
like they did mumia?

Hey you
I said to God
sitting high and looking low
where were you when
white america
dummied down demoracy
and threw the last two elections?

God replied
“you talking to me?”
as if he had never
heard
the many prayers I’d uttered for
freedom

Yea,
I’m talking to you -
God Almighty
And,
(I might add)
I don’t like your attitude

where were you God
when the children of South Asia cried out for their mothers and fathers
to protect them from your wrath
their bodies sucked into the nothingness
did they not cry out loud enough for you to hear them?

I speak to God
requesting his presence
“”man up God”, I say
I demand an audience of one with you

A no show
One more time again

…a probability
you were too busy
with George Bush on his Texas ranch
Bar-b-quing
social security &
health care
to notice
the suffering
of the world’s people

a possibility you were
attending
puff daddy’s
Xmas party
for the rich and famous
preoccupied (I suppose)
with
50cent
and
Jay-z
purchasing diamond watches & rings
costing $100,000 and more…
from men
who went into the bowls of South Africa
stealing everything they now sell
to merchants of death
who go by the name of
Rappers

AUGUST 28,2005 Hurricane Katrina

Where yawl at”
I ask
“We in the water”
that’s what she said
and where is God?
I ask humbly
She drowned before she could answer me

“Well now, Lawdy, Lawdy Miss Claudie you sure…
I ain’t no singer but I can change the lyrics
“Well now, Lawdy, Lawdy Miss Claudie looks like God has abandoned you
what you gonna do now that you God is gone?

I loved him
I loved him so much
I loved him everyday of my life
I loved him when the rent was due
When the eviction notice was tacked on my door
I loved him when I had no food in my refrigerator
I loved him in the midnight hour
I loved him when the evil wind blew no good

I cried out to him
crawling on my knees
trying to get out of the mess I was in
“help me!”
please

He did not come then

Later much later
He showed up with three white men
and took Emmett Till to the Tallahatchie River
He showed up in jail and beat Fannie Lou Hammer
He showed up at the assassinations of Malcolm X
And Dr. King
He may not come when you call him
but he’s always on time..
for those who rule the world

like sam cook
“I was born by the river in a little tent…”
I know,
I know
you didn’t see me
but that’s no excuse for not hearing me
when I was floating on a mattress in my kitchen
I reached out to you
“take my hand, precious Lord, take my hand”…

my ole man
reached out to save me
he had to let me go to take the hand of our child…
when I was in the superdome
and the rain was pouring down
“I just want you close…
you and me together through the days and nights”
Alicia Keys sing
“everything is gonna be alright”
nothing was
nothing is

and today
from somewhere I found the strength
to rise again
from the muddy waters of new orleans and Mississippi

they thought I was dead
in the eulogy they wrote ( and sent out all over the world)
they called me
a refugee
they said I was black,
poor,
uneducated with the propensity towards criminal intent
I would not be missed…

I came back…
I found ancestors at the bottom of the sea that resuscitated me
and now I am born again
from their love
today
you have reasons to worry
“there is no easy way to learn how to fly”
today I rise

Your way of life has so little to do with what you feel and love in the world.

I grabbed this from another website. but I thought it was relevant. This year hasn't been what any of us thought or hoped it would be. I'm sure in a year, looking back I'll believe in the good. I'll have a sense of what it's all for, but right now I'm disappointed, hurting, lonely, and lacking identity. I think it's fair to say we're all struggling.

“If you were a stone, you could remain still, gathered in silent witness in the same landscape. The horizons and the infinity would never trouble you. Nothing could draw you out. As a human, your daily experience is riven with fracture and fragmentation.

Like a nomad you wander from event to event, from person to person, unable to settle anywhere for too long. The day is a chase after ghost duties; at evening you are exhausted. A day is over and so much of it was wasted on things that meant to little to you, duties and meetings from which your heart was absent. Months and years pass and you fumble on, still incapable of finding a foothold on the path of time you walk.

A large proportion of your activity distracts you from remembering that you are a guest of the universe, to whom one life has been given. You mistake the insisten pressure of daily demands for reality and your more delicate and intuitive nature wilts. When you wake from your obsessions, you feel cheated.

Your longing is being numbed and your longing becomes merely external. Your way of life has so little to do with what you feel and love in the world. But, because of the many demands on you and responsibilities that you have, you feel helpless to gather your self; you are dragged in so many directions away from true belonging.”

From ‘Eternal Echoes’ by John O Donohue