I woke up today with dread and just feeling like today was a good day just to stay in bed. It was rainy, cold, and just plain blah. I didn't want to get out of bed, and yet, I knew that we had a bbq to host with Mike Widen and Bill Hanson from Re-Armor homes. At Streets Of Hope Outreach (SOHO) we have been in the process of working on renovating a church. As it stands we have been graciously been given full use of a beautiful church at 515 Farrington Street in the center of Frogtown in St. Paul. For us it has been a Godsend as it is dead center to many of the folks we serve, a firebase alpha if you will. In that we have beenn so blessed in provisions of all sorts that it brings me to my knees, and yet there is still so much more to do. We had been graciously helped by Bishop Bill Watson from Revolation Church in the planning and support. Mike Dokken from Grace Church in Eden Prarie was also quick to throw his hat in and also help us too. To have the help from folks from 2 powerhouse churches was just amazing in it's own right. Yet, with the weather, I think we all wanted to call the game due to rain, but we had told the people of the neighborhood that we would be there. I was praying on what we should do, when I was given, 'those who are looking won't come, those who are searching will'. I guess that solidified it for me. Game on.
As I dove my way to St. Paul, I was questioning my sanity. Who was going to come to a bbq on a 40 degree day with freezing rain? When I got to the church I had my answer. There waiting in the rain was a 14 year old boy who has come around quite a bit as we have been starting to get the church back in order. I greeted him, to which he quickly stated, 'man, I wasn't sure if anyone was gonna show. I been here since 6:30.' Right there, I had my answer, he had come because, 'somethin good was gonna happen'. He had come expecting almost 5 hours before the bbq was even supposed to start. I had to run a few quick errands to the local stores, like get a cup of coffee, he quickly asked if he could walk with me. As we walked, we talked. We talked about school, girls, basketball, and a bunch of other stuff. We had gotten to the store right as they opened, so I had to wait while the coffee machine warmed up. As we sat and waited, I just felt the need to ask the question, 'what are your dreams?'. In an instant, he replied, 'I wanna move far far away, like Maple Grove.' I asked, 'why Maple Grove?' His reply, 'life's better there'. Talk about a humbling moment. I now knew why we were there on a Saturday, in freezing rain, at 40 degrees, for a bbq.
As the time to start up neared the weather got worse, most folks were running late due to the weather, and we had no idea where our grills and our cooks were. Matthew suddenly wandered onto the scene, commenting that he had had the same reservation that I had, but was given, 'If you aren't gong to serve me in the rain, will you serve me in the sun?' Since the cooks had the bulk of the food, that was an issue. Then it started, one by one everyone came together. Piece by piece. Bishop Bill arrived, and so did Mike Dokken, Mike had brought Mitch who is an instrumental part of the Outreach program at Grace, and George Bunnell, the pastor of Grove Church in Maple Grove, (which I thought was an interesting add since my young friend had mentioned Maple Grove in our conversation earlier. Mike Widen rolled up with a grill, and three guys from the community walked through the rain and hauled their grills back to the church, 'just in case we needed more'.
It then began, the grills were fired up, I honestly figured if 3 people showed up, it was a success, n this weather. Well, God decided to show me what he had meant earlier. They started coming, person after person. The best part, they would get their food, and just hang out, everyone that was there at 11am, stayed til after the slated end time of 4pm. The highlight for me was when Mike Dokken started a prayer, it was amazing it seemed like everyone had a praise and prayer, and not only that, the tent was packed with people who were searching, voice after voice rose up in prayer, faith leaders, brothers and sisters along the way, and people from the neighborhood all joining voices in prayer, every race, color and creed represented one glorious voice to God. It was amazing. The ones who were searching had filled the tent, our minds, our hearts, and we all poured out our souls to one another. I was so blown away by the turn out. What an amazing day. I love each and every one of you and God does too. LLLAKYFOTPA XD
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Saturday, April 14, 2012
The Word On The Street Isn't Always Right.
Recently I had heard from a few different folks that a dear brother of mine had passed. In the homeless world many that you meet along the way often go 'missing', this can happen for a number of reasons and some are good and some are bad. Since many are in a transient state, constantly moving from place to place to seek shelter there can be all kinds of stories, and sometimes the process is rooting through all of the tales to figure out what may have happened even though you may never know the true end. When someone dies in the community there is often no print or fanfare. If you are one of the lucky ones you get a single sheet of white paper with your intake photo, birthdate, deathdate and that's about it. If you're lucky. Otherwise, not much is heard or said. Today I had the fortune of being wrong. I had heard from multiple sources that my dear friend Hippie had passed, I heard it from a few different sources, slight differences to each story, but with the same conclusion. Hippie was dead. Which really confused Hippie when he walked into the drop in shelter this morning. I had mourned my dear friend, thinking of the many days we had discussed life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, and now, I get to see him again, and share more moments of everything from laughter to pain. I can't explain my joy. So, with that, The Word On The Street Ain't Always Right. Time to track Hippie down and give him a big hug. I love each and every one of you and God does too. LLLAKYFOTPA XD
Friday, October 28, 2011
Have a great day. Hannah grade 9
Often the simplest of words can be the most powerful. The words above had been carefully written by a girl named Hannah from Pennsylvania. Now, for those who may not understand, let me lay it all out for you. I spend most of my days out and about. I spend my days searching. I look for those who have wandered off the beaten path, and in one way or another have found their way to the absolute fringe of society. More times than not they feel abandoned, left behind, forgotten, and worst of all, alone. The believe that few care for them anymore, and the ones that do are only the ones they come into direct contact with.
This is the lie that they have been told, and it is my mission to disprove that lie. The other day, Hannah, grade 9 also helped me disprove this lie.
I was walking along the river, searching for a friend of mine who recently had to move his campsite, he's a loner, his name is Robert.. He has been out on the street for 14 years, most of his time is spent camping, he has gotten up in years and he does not like the 'drama' of the shelters. As he has gotten older he has gotten more elusive, he stays away from pretty much everyone other than a very select few who he has known for years on end as fellow 'brothers'. A while ago I had stumbled across him as he fished along the riverbank. We exchanged niceties, and as I introduced myself, he started laughing, 'so you're the guy', from the look on my face he laughed even harder, I guess he could tell that I was trying to figure out who 'that guy' was. 'Preacher', the guy who loves all us old bums.' He then told me that my name had traveled up and down the river quite aways, and that he 'half expected when he met me that i would be walkin' on water or some crap like that.' To which I started laughing, I thanked him for the mental image, but that I would probably not be able to walk on water unless there was a floating dock in place or some well placed stones. His reply, 'now don't say that, through God all things are possible.'
His faith has been a blessing to me, to see where he lives, and how he lives, an honor, and to be able to shoot the breeze and be called his 'brother' a downright priviledge. He can and has been known to be quite a handful in his time, but I take all of that with a grain of salt. He is half ojibwe and half english/scotch, his eyes have the knowlegde of so much just swirling around in them, through his John Lennon style bifocals it gives him a scientist or psychologist look, and the salt and pepper in his hair make him look very regal. He always has such deep insight into things, and reminds me of what it must have been like to talk to one of the great thinkers of past times, rhetorical abstract questions where you feel your soul deepens just to hear the words. It is an honor and a priviledge to call him my brother and to be called his.
Either or, as we caught up he made us some tea with a coleman stove, as the tea began to steep I reached into my coat. I had placed some bags in my pockets. A group called the Mitzvah Circle in Pennsylvania had a group of kids, and that group of kids had made up snack packs, those snack packs contained a note from each person who had bagged these gifts with care. I took one of them out and handed it to him. In Bob being a true ojibwe he quickly picked a worry stone out of his pocket and 'traded' it to me so that it would be a fair trade. I thanked him and he thanked me. He quickly started eating the contents. The things that we take for granted through the day are often the most cherised and sought after things in other places. As he sucked on the straw for the juicebox I stifled a grin, for that moment I saw Bob as a child, his deep brown eyes wide to the point of expanding beyond his glasses sipping that sweet nectar of fruit juice. He asked me why the giggle, and I told him why, to which he started to laugh, I love Bob's laugh, he has that infectous belly roll that once started will just get the room going. So we laughed and as we did that, he picked through the bag, that's when it happened. He came upon a piece of paper, it was a small white sheet, and in very nice handwriting it said simply, 'Have a great day. Hannah grade 9' It had gotten kinda wrinkled from being packed in that bag, 'so, who's this?' Bob asked me. My reply, 'Someone who cares from Pennsylvania.' 'Pennsylvania?!?!' Bob replied. To which I replied, 'Yep'. He sat there in silence for a few moments, I was a little distracted by a tug boat, and when I turned back, he had buried his head in his hands and was running his fingers through his hair. I was alarmed, 'You ok Bob?', I blurted. His response was quick and concise, 'How do you do this?! Why do you do this?!' His eyes were full of tears, his voice strained, 'Do you realize that no one, NO ONE, does stuff like this anymore.' My reply, 'wrong Bob, most people don't do it anymore, but looks like Hannah wants to make a difference.' To which Bob replied, 'Shaddup Preacher.' 'I know Bob, I love you Bob, and God does too.' I replied as I rose to leave. 'Ok brother, back atcha on both points,' Bob replied, 'will ya make sure you thank Hannah for me and let her know that she warmed an old man's heart today?' I turned to reply, and as I did I saw bob take the note and place it between two rags, then lay it on one of the flat stones near the fire and use the semi-rounded bottom to iron flat the slighlty wrinkled piece of paper. As he was finished he carefully placed it in his bible and in his backpack to be held safe in his 'memory bank'. 'Of course I will Bob.' I replied. For the moment again I got to see Bob eyes wide give me a smile and a wave. 'Love you lil brother, I may not say it much but I do,' he replied. Bob doesn't say it much at all, that is only the third or fourth time he's said it to me in a year. I could hear Bob whistling a happy tune almost all the way back to West 7th street.
So, thank you Hannah grade 9 for not only warming a man named Bob's heart, but for spreading the love. I love each and every one of you and God does too. LLLAKYFOTPA XD
This is the lie that they have been told, and it is my mission to disprove that lie. The other day, Hannah, grade 9 also helped me disprove this lie.
I was walking along the river, searching for a friend of mine who recently had to move his campsite, he's a loner, his name is Robert.. He has been out on the street for 14 years, most of his time is spent camping, he has gotten up in years and he does not like the 'drama' of the shelters. As he has gotten older he has gotten more elusive, he stays away from pretty much everyone other than a very select few who he has known for years on end as fellow 'brothers'. A while ago I had stumbled across him as he fished along the riverbank. We exchanged niceties, and as I introduced myself, he started laughing, 'so you're the guy', from the look on my face he laughed even harder, I guess he could tell that I was trying to figure out who 'that guy' was. 'Preacher', the guy who loves all us old bums.' He then told me that my name had traveled up and down the river quite aways, and that he 'half expected when he met me that i would be walkin' on water or some crap like that.' To which I started laughing, I thanked him for the mental image, but that I would probably not be able to walk on water unless there was a floating dock in place or some well placed stones. His reply, 'now don't say that, through God all things are possible.'
His faith has been a blessing to me, to see where he lives, and how he lives, an honor, and to be able to shoot the breeze and be called his 'brother' a downright priviledge. He can and has been known to be quite a handful in his time, but I take all of that with a grain of salt. He is half ojibwe and half english/scotch, his eyes have the knowlegde of so much just swirling around in them, through his John Lennon style bifocals it gives him a scientist or psychologist look, and the salt and pepper in his hair make him look very regal. He always has such deep insight into things, and reminds me of what it must have been like to talk to one of the great thinkers of past times, rhetorical abstract questions where you feel your soul deepens just to hear the words. It is an honor and a priviledge to call him my brother and to be called his.
Either or, as we caught up he made us some tea with a coleman stove, as the tea began to steep I reached into my coat. I had placed some bags in my pockets. A group called the Mitzvah Circle in Pennsylvania had a group of kids, and that group of kids had made up snack packs, those snack packs contained a note from each person who had bagged these gifts with care. I took one of them out and handed it to him. In Bob being a true ojibwe he quickly picked a worry stone out of his pocket and 'traded' it to me so that it would be a fair trade. I thanked him and he thanked me. He quickly started eating the contents. The things that we take for granted through the day are often the most cherised and sought after things in other places. As he sucked on the straw for the juicebox I stifled a grin, for that moment I saw Bob as a child, his deep brown eyes wide to the point of expanding beyond his glasses sipping that sweet nectar of fruit juice. He asked me why the giggle, and I told him why, to which he started to laugh, I love Bob's laugh, he has that infectous belly roll that once started will just get the room going. So we laughed and as we did that, he picked through the bag, that's when it happened. He came upon a piece of paper, it was a small white sheet, and in very nice handwriting it said simply, 'Have a great day. Hannah grade 9' It had gotten kinda wrinkled from being packed in that bag, 'so, who's this?' Bob asked me. My reply, 'Someone who cares from Pennsylvania.' 'Pennsylvania?!?!' Bob replied. To which I replied, 'Yep'. He sat there in silence for a few moments, I was a little distracted by a tug boat, and when I turned back, he had buried his head in his hands and was running his fingers through his hair. I was alarmed, 'You ok Bob?', I blurted. His response was quick and concise, 'How do you do this?! Why do you do this?!' His eyes were full of tears, his voice strained, 'Do you realize that no one, NO ONE, does stuff like this anymore.' My reply, 'wrong Bob, most people don't do it anymore, but looks like Hannah wants to make a difference.' To which Bob replied, 'Shaddup Preacher.' 'I know Bob, I love you Bob, and God does too.' I replied as I rose to leave. 'Ok brother, back atcha on both points,' Bob replied, 'will ya make sure you thank Hannah for me and let her know that she warmed an old man's heart today?' I turned to reply, and as I did I saw bob take the note and place it between two rags, then lay it on one of the flat stones near the fire and use the semi-rounded bottom to iron flat the slighlty wrinkled piece of paper. As he was finished he carefully placed it in his bible and in his backpack to be held safe in his 'memory bank'. 'Of course I will Bob.' I replied. For the moment again I got to see Bob eyes wide give me a smile and a wave. 'Love you lil brother, I may not say it much but I do,' he replied. Bob doesn't say it much at all, that is only the third or fourth time he's said it to me in a year. I could hear Bob whistling a happy tune almost all the way back to West 7th street.
So, thank you Hannah grade 9 for not only warming a man named Bob's heart, but for spreading the love. I love each and every one of you and God does too. LLLAKYFOTPA XD
Monday, October 3, 2011
The Fear Of Success
As SOHO nears and clears so many benchmarks, I have started to realize one thing, and it seems to reverberate through many of my brothers and sisters as I share it more, and have come to realize that I just have to put it out there.
I have a fear of success. I have no fear of failure, I can fail on epic proportions with style and grace. I have no fear of mediocrity or middle management, I can stay waste deep in the middle and perform 'average' with the best of them. I can go by unnoticed if I stay just under the radar. The issue is, I no longer believe that this is what I was designed for, in that right, what any of us were designed for. We were ALL designed to have gifts in different areas, and instead of working on our weakness, we are designed to operate in our strengths.
In that, do we ignore our weaknesses? I believe we should for the most part. Only working on them when it is something that could become debilitating if left unattended. I believe we should work hard enough on our weaknesses to negate them, beyond that we should let sleeping dogs lie.
I am going to move to first person at this point, so no one feels that I am attempting to assault anyone in any way for any weakness they may posses.
In my journey I have discovered that many great things are possible. In fact my personal belief, through God all things are possible. I have witnessed miracles, wonders, and signs over and over again. I have seen with my own eyes, on 2 seperate occasions, a mand of God pray over someone and heal broken bones. 2 seperate places, 2 different men, 2 different people that they prayed over. The first one, I saw the injury happen, I witness my Pastor, a great man of God and a dear brother to me, pray over the person injured. I then took the person to the hospital to have the bone x-rayed, the x-ray showed a very clear clean break. In the next day or so, I took her back to the hospital to have the break checked out. No more than 3 days later, no break. No noticable damage anywhere on the bone, no scar build up where the break should have been, no nothing. Just a healthy bone. The second time, a gal who came to church for her mother, not for her. Her mother wanted to be at the service, the gal came along 'just to check it out'. The daughter had been hit by a car a short time before, and carried the injuries from being hit by a car. A moment after she was prayed over, she took off her air cast, and was dancing across the stage.
You are probably asking why was it that one took days, and the other took moments. I can answer that, it was for me. I have always had a cynical side when it comes to faith healing, it isn't much of one, but it does rear it's ugly head. I grew up with my mother a nurse, who is a phenominal woman of God, and yet, I would attribute the miracles I heard of and saw, to medicine. When I stood in the room and looked at not only the x-rays, but the general perplexion on all the peoples faces that saw not only the gal who's leg was healed, but the questions and statements that followed. 'are you x-raying the same leg?' 'why isn't there any indication of stress or fracture?' 'this isn't possible'. I could no longer argue, I could no longer not see.
So why do I have a fear of failure? If God can heal 2 seperate people of injuries, why am I so afraid of operating and succeding in what He designed me to do. I have to say this, I just saying that I have a fear of success, I feel better, it's out in the open. In that, I am finding it staggering, how many people feel the same way. I must remember, through me not much is possible, but through God, NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE. So all in all, it is not my success, it's God's, and who am I to stand in His way. So I will just wake up in the morning, and the rest is up to HIM. Of course it's Him that gives me the gift of waking, so I guess, for me, I'm going to do my best to just leave it all up to Him, and go where ever He guides me, and do whatever He asks me to do.
I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.
-Philippians 4:13
And looking at them Jesus said to them, "With people this is impossible, but with God all things are possible."
-Matthew 19:26
In that I know that there are many of you who are going to say, 'well, that's all fine and dandy, but what about all of the miralces, signs, and wonders that go undone' I will finish it with two quotes.
For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.
-Romans 8:18
I often wonder why my life took so many wrong paths, highways, byways and such. The funny thing is, if I didn't go through all the crap that I did, there would be no way I could do what I do now. Now I think if something isn't happening, what have I or haven't I done that in turn is blocking it from happening. In that, the hardest part, is realizing that all of God's plans are perfect, and sometimes, things just have to happen that way.
-me
I love each and every one of you and God does too. LLLAKYFOTPA XD
I have a fear of success. I have no fear of failure, I can fail on epic proportions with style and grace. I have no fear of mediocrity or middle management, I can stay waste deep in the middle and perform 'average' with the best of them. I can go by unnoticed if I stay just under the radar. The issue is, I no longer believe that this is what I was designed for, in that right, what any of us were designed for. We were ALL designed to have gifts in different areas, and instead of working on our weakness, we are designed to operate in our strengths.
In that, do we ignore our weaknesses? I believe we should for the most part. Only working on them when it is something that could become debilitating if left unattended. I believe we should work hard enough on our weaknesses to negate them, beyond that we should let sleeping dogs lie.
I am going to move to first person at this point, so no one feels that I am attempting to assault anyone in any way for any weakness they may posses.
In my journey I have discovered that many great things are possible. In fact my personal belief, through God all things are possible. I have witnessed miracles, wonders, and signs over and over again. I have seen with my own eyes, on 2 seperate occasions, a mand of God pray over someone and heal broken bones. 2 seperate places, 2 different men, 2 different people that they prayed over. The first one, I saw the injury happen, I witness my Pastor, a great man of God and a dear brother to me, pray over the person injured. I then took the person to the hospital to have the bone x-rayed, the x-ray showed a very clear clean break. In the next day or so, I took her back to the hospital to have the break checked out. No more than 3 days later, no break. No noticable damage anywhere on the bone, no scar build up where the break should have been, no nothing. Just a healthy bone. The second time, a gal who came to church for her mother, not for her. Her mother wanted to be at the service, the gal came along 'just to check it out'. The daughter had been hit by a car a short time before, and carried the injuries from being hit by a car. A moment after she was prayed over, she took off her air cast, and was dancing across the stage.
You are probably asking why was it that one took days, and the other took moments. I can answer that, it was for me. I have always had a cynical side when it comes to faith healing, it isn't much of one, but it does rear it's ugly head. I grew up with my mother a nurse, who is a phenominal woman of God, and yet, I would attribute the miracles I heard of and saw, to medicine. When I stood in the room and looked at not only the x-rays, but the general perplexion on all the peoples faces that saw not only the gal who's leg was healed, but the questions and statements that followed. 'are you x-raying the same leg?' 'why isn't there any indication of stress or fracture?' 'this isn't possible'. I could no longer argue, I could no longer not see.
So why do I have a fear of failure? If God can heal 2 seperate people of injuries, why am I so afraid of operating and succeding in what He designed me to do. I have to say this, I just saying that I have a fear of success, I feel better, it's out in the open. In that, I am finding it staggering, how many people feel the same way. I must remember, through me not much is possible, but through God, NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE. So all in all, it is not my success, it's God's, and who am I to stand in His way. So I will just wake up in the morning, and the rest is up to HIM. Of course it's Him that gives me the gift of waking, so I guess, for me, I'm going to do my best to just leave it all up to Him, and go where ever He guides me, and do whatever He asks me to do.
I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.
-Philippians 4:13
And looking at them Jesus said to them, "With people this is impossible, but with God all things are possible."
-Matthew 19:26
In that I know that there are many of you who are going to say, 'well, that's all fine and dandy, but what about all of the miralces, signs, and wonders that go undone' I will finish it with two quotes.
For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.
-Romans 8:18
I often wonder why my life took so many wrong paths, highways, byways and such. The funny thing is, if I didn't go through all the crap that I did, there would be no way I could do what I do now. Now I think if something isn't happening, what have I or haven't I done that in turn is blocking it from happening. In that, the hardest part, is realizing that all of God's plans are perfect, and sometimes, things just have to happen that way.
-me
I love each and every one of you and God does too. LLLAKYFOTPA XD
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
The 410 and one of the many reasons I do what I do.
On the corner of 4th and 10th in Minneapolis stands a garden. I posted 4 pictures of it the other day, well 3 pictures of the garden and one of what seems to be the only remnant of the 410 left. What is the 410 you may ask. It was a homeless shelter for women and children in at one time was noted as the worst part of Minneapolis back when it was first called 'murderapolis'. It was the place that I at one time, called home.
It was once a large brick building that had old lettering on the side like the old Greyhound staions, except in large blue and white letters that spelled out 'Hotel' on the corner that faced the intersection of 4th and 10th. It sat next to the Sir Francis Drake, which was a homeless shelter for men. I being a teenager went to the 410. I remember going to a place called 'Profect Offstreets' which used to be over by the art gardminutesens right off of Lyndale. I met with a counselor who doubled as my 'advocate'. I only met him once, and his most supportive words to me were, 'either get tough or die kid'. After that it was off to the 410, making my way down Hennepin Avenue to find my way 'home'. My first 10 minutes there I witnessed an assault where a man cut a woman's face from temple to jaw with a bottle, and as I quickly escaped to the 'safety' of the elevator, I had a guy put a gun to my face, and tell me that the color shirt I was wearing was not welcome in the building, so if I ever wore it again around there, he'd blow my head off. I got to my room with my duffle bag and met my roommate who told me, 'Welcome to Hell'. I was pretty much shell shocked from my first 10 minutes. I learned the ropes quickly, what to do and what not to do. What would get you killed, and how you could survive. I witnessed so many acts of violence at such a horrific level that I truly believed that I was in Hell.
The hardest thing for anoyone homeless, is that people stop seeing you, we've all done it, pretending not to see the person at the intersection, averting our eyes, or any other excuse that we have to not have to look upon people's misfortune. I had gotten to the point where I felt I no longer mattered, I no longer existed, I was a ghost in life, just passing through, not being seen, not being heard, except by those who were also caught in the strange cynical universe of homelessness and facelessness. It got to a point where I had had enough. I was done. I decided that I would live one more day, a really good day for once, and then leap from my room to my death so many feet below.
I remember waking up happy, I was going to be leaving this cruel world, I was going to be 'free', my life didn't matter anyways, so I would just be out of pain and that would be that. I got dressed, and proceeded to take the elevator down to the street level and head out the doors to face my final day. It was a sunny day, and I had walked out the door just in time to catch a glimpse of the procession of the school busses. They would come by every morning, bus after bus, I would watch them drive by and then start making my rounds. This day I found myself staring longingly at them. I was never 'excited' to get on a school bus, but at this moment, I had never wanted to be on a school bus more in my life.
I watched as bus after bus passed by staring at all of the faces of the kids as they stared out into nothingness, they wanting to be off of the bus just as much as I wanted to be on it. That's when it happened. I couldn't tell you what school it was for, what numbers were on the side, or even what number it was from the end, maybe 3rd or 4th from the end. There she was. A black girl, about the same age as me, she had braids in her hair and a yellow shirt on. As I noticed her, she smiled at me and waved. I simple random act of kindness, and that was all that it took, I decided that life was worth living. The sidenote to the pictures, that slab of busted concrete, was below my window. That's approximately where my body would have impacted when I had lept to my doom. I remember staring at it from so many stories above.
I stood at that site the other day with one of my brothers from along the way and sobbed, it was the first time I had set foot anywhere near that property in over 20 years. I had dodged it for that long. I thought it was beautiful that where once so much pain stood, that now a garden to help support the food shelves stands.
One more note. The little girl with the braids, will probably never know that her second of reflecting Christ's love saved my life and that every second of my being after that is because of that moment, so in that, never underestimate what happens in a day. Something that may seem insignificant to you, a common courtesy, just the right thing to do, may affect someone's life in such a profound way, and not only be a 'warm fuzzy', it just may save a life. I love each and every one of you and God does too. LLLAKYFOTPA XD
It was once a large brick building that had old lettering on the side like the old Greyhound staions, except in large blue and white letters that spelled out 'Hotel' on the corner that faced the intersection of 4th and 10th. It sat next to the Sir Francis Drake, which was a homeless shelter for men. I being a teenager went to the 410. I remember going to a place called 'Profect Offstreets' which used to be over by the art gardminutesens right off of Lyndale. I met with a counselor who doubled as my 'advocate'. I only met him once, and his most supportive words to me were, 'either get tough or die kid'. After that it was off to the 410, making my way down Hennepin Avenue to find my way 'home'. My first 10 minutes there I witnessed an assault where a man cut a woman's face from temple to jaw with a bottle, and as I quickly escaped to the 'safety' of the elevator, I had a guy put a gun to my face, and tell me that the color shirt I was wearing was not welcome in the building, so if I ever wore it again around there, he'd blow my head off. I got to my room with my duffle bag and met my roommate who told me, 'Welcome to Hell'. I was pretty much shell shocked from my first 10 minutes. I learned the ropes quickly, what to do and what not to do. What would get you killed, and how you could survive. I witnessed so many acts of violence at such a horrific level that I truly believed that I was in Hell.
The hardest thing for anoyone homeless, is that people stop seeing you, we've all done it, pretending not to see the person at the intersection, averting our eyes, or any other excuse that we have to not have to look upon people's misfortune. I had gotten to the point where I felt I no longer mattered, I no longer existed, I was a ghost in life, just passing through, not being seen, not being heard, except by those who were also caught in the strange cynical universe of homelessness and facelessness. It got to a point where I had had enough. I was done. I decided that I would live one more day, a really good day for once, and then leap from my room to my death so many feet below.
I remember waking up happy, I was going to be leaving this cruel world, I was going to be 'free', my life didn't matter anyways, so I would just be out of pain and that would be that. I got dressed, and proceeded to take the elevator down to the street level and head out the doors to face my final day. It was a sunny day, and I had walked out the door just in time to catch a glimpse of the procession of the school busses. They would come by every morning, bus after bus, I would watch them drive by and then start making my rounds. This day I found myself staring longingly at them. I was never 'excited' to get on a school bus, but at this moment, I had never wanted to be on a school bus more in my life.
I watched as bus after bus passed by staring at all of the faces of the kids as they stared out into nothingness, they wanting to be off of the bus just as much as I wanted to be on it. That's when it happened. I couldn't tell you what school it was for, what numbers were on the side, or even what number it was from the end, maybe 3rd or 4th from the end. There she was. A black girl, about the same age as me, she had braids in her hair and a yellow shirt on. As I noticed her, she smiled at me and waved. I simple random act of kindness, and that was all that it took, I decided that life was worth living. The sidenote to the pictures, that slab of busted concrete, was below my window. That's approximately where my body would have impacted when I had lept to my doom. I remember staring at it from so many stories above.
I stood at that site the other day with one of my brothers from along the way and sobbed, it was the first time I had set foot anywhere near that property in over 20 years. I had dodged it for that long. I thought it was beautiful that where once so much pain stood, that now a garden to help support the food shelves stands.
One more note. The little girl with the braids, will probably never know that her second of reflecting Christ's love saved my life and that every second of my being after that is because of that moment, so in that, never underestimate what happens in a day. Something that may seem insignificant to you, a common courtesy, just the right thing to do, may affect someone's life in such a profound way, and not only be a 'warm fuzzy', it just may save a life. I love each and every one of you and God does too. LLLAKYFOTPA XD
Monday, September 5, 2011
One More Thing
I have a hard time asking for help for myself. I would much rather ask for someone else other than myself. One thing that is essential for me in the field is a working laptop, not only to be able to document people and places along the way, but to be able to write what I write when the moments hit. I have tried many other methods and means, but as some of you who have followed my 'writings from the road', 'randoms', and any other of my stuff along the way, for some reason it is just the easiest for me to be able to type it out on a keyboard, I'm not sure why, but it is what it is. The other issue with that is that I must strike when the iron is hot, otherwise my thoughts tend to get lost in the wind, and is either never conveyed as well as when the emotions are fresh in my skull, or, it never gets written at all. My last laptop unfortunately was 'built incorrectly' as I was told by a good friend who attempted to fix it, when it was rebuilt, a necessary heat shield was not placed inside causing the board to overheat and fry it. So, in that, I need a laptop to be able to accurately document things when they happen, as they happen. I am putting this out there in the hopes that I can hopefully find a solution, and continue to do the work that I do, the best that God allows me to. I love each and every one of you and God does too. LLLAKYFOTPA
Trials and Tribulations
I have decided to place my personal writings in Papabear's Den and write work related things into Stories of Hope. I have gotten away from writing lately for personal reasons, well, let's face it, sometimes life gets too busy. For me, one of the first thing I tend to do is focus on other things than my own issues. Why do we do that? I like to think because when standing outsside the box we are sometimes able to better address the issues, the problem with that is that I tend to lose focus on what I ned to do for myself. Sometimes, it is easier to 'dodge' my personal issues. I have been called the 'artful dodger', if something starts slowing or becomes difficult, that I will grab another task that waits in the wings to attack and let the other task become stagnant. The issue with that is that if the issue is not properly addressed, or properly wrapped up so that it can be adequately shelved, it becomes an anchor and not just a shelved item. It can not only become an issue, but can actually stunt forward progression or growth.
I love my job, I get to be with people and hopefully help them along with the problems or issues at hand, the issue with that, I sometimes have to rip open my ribcage and stare directly into my own fears and past issues on a daily basis. Which can be a good thing, if I let myself look into it and conceptually work at it, but if I take that festering wound and attempt to cover it, without not only addressing it, but taking the time to take out the infection, use the proper salve, and then let it begin to heal, it can become infected and begin to become a larger problem than it was originally. I was once asked, 'what does it take to do what I do?', the best answer I could have at the time, 'be able to have your heart broken 1000 times a day'. Well, in that, there is alot of truth, but at the same right, it can be overwhelming at times. This is one of these times.
I have not been at the shelters much lately, I have been out in the streets and campgrounds mostly, 'campgrounds?' you may ask. Yes, campgrounds, there are hundreds of campgrounds around the cities, not city or state areas dedicated to swimming, campfires, volleyball, and such, but places, some so close that if you looked hard enough, you would be suprised. I will not give out any locations of such camps, but I will tell you that I have stood in campgounds not only in the cities, but I have yet to find one suburb that doesn't have some type of campsite. Yep, that's right, I have been throughout the metro suburbs and stood in campgrounds. The difference? The city seems to be mostly single adults. The suburbs? Families, yep, families. Too often I have heard the story, mom lost her job, but that was ok because dad still had his, then dad lost his job, we lost the house, and here we are. Why? because, I felt a need to make necessary connections there. My feeling was only accentuated when one of the folks who works for a local shelter asked me, 'Where have you been? I haven't seen you around.'. I replied that I had been in the camps, at which point they asked how many camps. I told them apporximately how many camps and how many people. To that they replied, 'What are they gonna do this winter?! We are already turning people away, and it's summertime, what are we going to do this winter?!'. To which I replied, 'Exactly'.
Every year, in the most prosperous nation in the world, people freeze to death. How is that possible? How can I be talking about winter on a beautiful August day? I have been letting this fester since the first cool breeze came in from Canada a short while ago. Reflecting on one of the many stories told to me by the brothers and sisters I have met along the way. One of my brother's sat with tears in his eyes and told me how all of the shelters were full, emergency and regular. So, when the MN deep freeze hit, a week of sustained double digit negatives, he was 'lucky' enough to have enough blankets and sleeping bags to hunker under in the abandoned trailer of a semi truck. He would only venture out for a few short minutes to grab ice and snow to put it in his thermos so he would have water, urinating in a bottle under the blankets so he would not be exposed to the elements and 'holding it' as long as he could each time for the other, so he would not be exposed to the elements. Now, I know what many of you are thinking. You may be thinking of the stereotypes that you think of in homelessness. Let me tell you, my brother is so far from that, 14 years ago he was a bike courrier who was hit by a cab while working, it actually made the paper and he carries the story around with him. The cab company settled with him at a standard that most of us would scoff at, but for him, a minimally educated man, who just worked hard and lived minimally, it seemed like a windfall, even if it left him permanently disabled. Now, he lives in a campground, after last winter he has spent most of his summer 'preparing', since for him, 'there's no end in sight, other than death'.
Worst part, that's just one of the many stories of those who are getting ready for winter. So, in that, this is one of the thousands of reasons that I do what I do. I love each and every one of you and God does too. LLLAKYFOTPA
I love my job, I get to be with people and hopefully help them along with the problems or issues at hand, the issue with that, I sometimes have to rip open my ribcage and stare directly into my own fears and past issues on a daily basis. Which can be a good thing, if I let myself look into it and conceptually work at it, but if I take that festering wound and attempt to cover it, without not only addressing it, but taking the time to take out the infection, use the proper salve, and then let it begin to heal, it can become infected and begin to become a larger problem than it was originally. I was once asked, 'what does it take to do what I do?', the best answer I could have at the time, 'be able to have your heart broken 1000 times a day'. Well, in that, there is alot of truth, but at the same right, it can be overwhelming at times. This is one of these times.
I have not been at the shelters much lately, I have been out in the streets and campgrounds mostly, 'campgrounds?' you may ask. Yes, campgrounds, there are hundreds of campgrounds around the cities, not city or state areas dedicated to swimming, campfires, volleyball, and such, but places, some so close that if you looked hard enough, you would be suprised. I will not give out any locations of such camps, but I will tell you that I have stood in campgounds not only in the cities, but I have yet to find one suburb that doesn't have some type of campsite. Yep, that's right, I have been throughout the metro suburbs and stood in campgrounds. The difference? The city seems to be mostly single adults. The suburbs? Families, yep, families. Too often I have heard the story, mom lost her job, but that was ok because dad still had his, then dad lost his job, we lost the house, and here we are. Why? because, I felt a need to make necessary connections there. My feeling was only accentuated when one of the folks who works for a local shelter asked me, 'Where have you been? I haven't seen you around.'. I replied that I had been in the camps, at which point they asked how many camps. I told them apporximately how many camps and how many people. To that they replied, 'What are they gonna do this winter?! We are already turning people away, and it's summertime, what are we going to do this winter?!'. To which I replied, 'Exactly'.
Every year, in the most prosperous nation in the world, people freeze to death. How is that possible? How can I be talking about winter on a beautiful August day? I have been letting this fester since the first cool breeze came in from Canada a short while ago. Reflecting on one of the many stories told to me by the brothers and sisters I have met along the way. One of my brother's sat with tears in his eyes and told me how all of the shelters were full, emergency and regular. So, when the MN deep freeze hit, a week of sustained double digit negatives, he was 'lucky' enough to have enough blankets and sleeping bags to hunker under in the abandoned trailer of a semi truck. He would only venture out for a few short minutes to grab ice and snow to put it in his thermos so he would have water, urinating in a bottle under the blankets so he would not be exposed to the elements and 'holding it' as long as he could each time for the other, so he would not be exposed to the elements. Now, I know what many of you are thinking. You may be thinking of the stereotypes that you think of in homelessness. Let me tell you, my brother is so far from that, 14 years ago he was a bike courrier who was hit by a cab while working, it actually made the paper and he carries the story around with him. The cab company settled with him at a standard that most of us would scoff at, but for him, a minimally educated man, who just worked hard and lived minimally, it seemed like a windfall, even if it left him permanently disabled. Now, he lives in a campground, after last winter he has spent most of his summer 'preparing', since for him, 'there's no end in sight, other than death'.
Worst part, that's just one of the many stories of those who are getting ready for winter. So, in that, this is one of the thousands of reasons that I do what I do. I love each and every one of you and God does too. LLLAKYFOTPA
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