What Do You Do?

What do you do when you feel like crying for seemingly no reason at all?

When you feel about to burst with pent up tension, but feel you have no one to call?

I searched the web tonight for blogs. Forums. Anything to find someone’s thoughts I could relate to. A connection. Maybe even a hope of camaraderie of some sort. 

But I fell short. So I put the phone down. And grimaced. Because it’s been too long. Too long since I felt fulfilled by things I used to love. People whose company I used to enjoy. I’ve been shrinking. Shrinking back to a person I used to be. A time when life was darker and persistent clouds were the norm. And here we are again…

Friendships slipping away while I make no move to rekindle them. Wanting something new, but not having the energy to pursue it. Positive quotes used to highlight my days. And prayer. I’ve always felt you should hold on to even the slightest shred of light and hope….and you could persevere.

But tonight, it’s as if the lights have been shut off. I picture a large empty space like a warehouse. And an old lever that controls the lights. You hear the loud groan of the lever as it’s pulled down, and boom! Lights out. Darkness. And silence. 

How did I get here?

Is like cold, damp concrete underneath me. And stifling quiet all around me. 

Emptiness. And yet, it’s suffocating. 

Nothing around me, yet it feels like something is closing in. 

I’d like to cry out, but the attempt would be feeble. And no one would recognize it anyways. Because my voice is never loud enough. Or the people in earshot either don’t understand, or they think positive words of encouragement will save the day. 

So I shrink back. 

Farther and farther from their line of sight. Safe in the shadows.

But is it safe in my mind?

Rigid. I’ve become rigid. Who to trust? Who to believe? Oh, to be an animal, driven by instinct. Like us, they can be frightened. But are they gripped with torrents of thought that tire them? Their responsibilities include finding food, building shelter, mating, and raising young for a relatively short time. And for most, the span of their lives is so short. 

But humanity. So much more complex. And why? Surely we are not superior? 

Is it to do with the stories of Adam and Eve? And is the Bible mostly filled with parable, and what parts are real? Did Jesus in fact spend 40 days and 40 nights in the desert, or is that symbolism for some deeper truth? 

We think we know so much. And everywhere you turn someone else or something else is telling you what’s best for you or how to live your life or find peace or happiness or success. 

Anymore it all feels like bullshit. If each of us is our own person, and I believe we are, then how can one article of someone else’s musings have all the right steps to lead us all from point A to point B? It can’t. 

And how can one person’s or even two or more peoples’ ideas about what is best for us be “the way”? And yet, people don’t stop sounding off advice. I’m guilty too. And I’d like to stop. Stop my judgement. My knowing what’s best. And stop saying it out loud as if I have those answers for someone else. Just like I would like for people to  stop doing that to me.

And I’d like to stop hearing the echo of their words reverberating through my thoughts. Covering your ears doesn’t help.

Turn. It. Off. Turn the sound down. I wish I had a switch. Click. Flip it, and mission accomplished. Just white noise left. Or sounds of nature. Birds chirping. Water flowing over rocks. Wind blowing through trees. 

Maybe then I could hear God’s voice again. Because I miss it. I’ve been missing it. And it’s left a void. A wide, cavernous, and empty void. Some seem to live without  him/her just fine. But me? I’m rather lost without that serene, loving voice that doesn’t need words to communicate. A language of its own. 

I want to hear it again…..

Jeremy,

I’m sorry I could not be honest with you when I took the Schwinn bike and said I was having it repaired.  Had the bike rightfully belonged to you, I would have gladly had it repaired for you.  However, I had already discovered that the bike was stolen, and I believe it needed to be reunited with its original owner.  I’m a firm believer in the golden rule…..”Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

For the sake of grace and mercy; Mercy being that we are forgiven and excused from the punishment/consequence of what we deserve, and grace being that we are given that which we do not deserve – like gifts or kindness we have not earned….We at FHSKC want you to have a new/used bike in its place.

Our group exists to be a light in the darkness.  A hand up, and not a hand out.  A love that extends past boundaries and does not judge.  We choose to stand up for what is honorable and noble and true, and not to support or promote apathy, dishonesty, or wrongdoings.  That being said, none of us is perfect!  But we are all striving for a greater good.  A belief that love can prevail and overcome and conquer.

I heard you say you have children you long to see and hold again.  I heard you say you want to be a better man.  I believe you CAN be the man you desire to be; the father you would like to be to your precious children.  I hope you can rise above and find the courage and strength to climb the mountains that lie ahead of you.  Please know that you are not alone.  And know that you do not have to face the mountains and valleys in your life alone.  “Sometimes it takes a village.”

We are here to help.  We’re here to love on you, and encourage you, and to help you up when you stumble. 

I hope you discover that you were given wings to fly.

And I hope you find that you can SOAR!  Because love….and the truth….can truly set you free!

XOXO

Betty

The Bicycle Dilemna

It happened this last week that when we arrived at a particular homeless camp we serve, a new face was there.  He claimed he was having bike troubles, so I offered to look over his bike and see if I could help him get it running again.  We conversed a bit as I was looking the bike over, and I began to feel uneasy about the whole exchange.  It didn't take long before I had the thought that perhaps this bike was a stolen bike, and didn't actually belong to this guy.  Especially when he said he really just wanted to sell it, and he thought it might go for $500-$600.  And then again when I saw the Shimano 105 component set on the bike.  And again when he asked if I could fix the cables he had broken, and possibly even sell the bike for him.  I'm not always quick on my feet, so I really wanted out of the situation.  Like, right now.  Because I was just uncomfortable.  So I declined his offer, and said maybe I could look for some parts and bring them back next week.

Then I got home and began scouring facebook.  Surely a stolen bike would be posted somewhere, right?  Bingo.  After very little searching, there it was.  Staring me in the face.  The same damn bike....under the posting and profile of a very sad owner.  And then I felt like an ass.  Why hadn't I taken it with me?!  Now how was I going to get said bike back to its owner?  I contacted the owner and told him the story.  I also expressed my desire to get the bike back without a scene so our other homeless friends wouldn't be adversely affected by a call to the police.  The best plan I could come up with was to head back out there in the morning and say that I had changed my mind, and that I thought I could get some help from a friend to fix up the bike.  And so I did.  And I was nervous.  But I prayed....and I had peace with the idea.  It all went off without a hitch.  And instead of pulling away and driving to the bike shop to repair the bike, I drove straight to the original owner's house and delivered his bike back to him.  It was a beautiful reunion!  Except I knew I would still have to face the next Sunday when I would pull up with our group and announce that I had fibbed, and that I knew the bike was stolen, and that it had been returned to its owner.  I knew I had done the right thing....but what about all the trust we as a group had spent buildingn with the people from this particular camp?  How would this impact our relationship with them going forward?

I thought about it all day.  And then I had an idea.  What if we killed him with kindness?  What if we offered him a different bike instead?  Or would that just be rewarding his negative behavior?  So I text the group leader, and she agreed it would be an awesome solution.  So this Sunday, he’ll get a bike back.  Not a bike that could sell for $500-$600, but a bike with 2 wheels and gears that work that will get him around town.  And a letter written with love….

ps.  Letter in the next post....

Tuesday, March 7th, 2017

I had breakfast with some of our friends from the woods today.  It was a beautiful respite from my work and time spent raising children.  As we sat around their camp, I listened to them tell stories of their days on the streets in the place they call home.  I felt so welcome.  I felt grateful to have earned their trust enough to be invited into this circle.  At one point in the conversation one woman looked at me and asked, “I just want to know something.  Why do you come out here?  Why do you do this?” Everyone grew quiet, and all eyes were on me.  A hundred thoughts were running through my mind, because the reasons are endless.  And yet, the simplest answer seemed most fitting.  “Because everyone deserves to be loved,” I replied. 

The group remained quiet for a moment before one of them spoke up.  What she said next broke my heart and filled it with a smile all in the same moment.  “You’re the only one who comes here and gives us hugs.  Many groups or people come out and want to give food or clothing, but only you guys give us hugs.  I just want to tell the world, homelessness is not contagious!  People act afraid of us, like we’re dirty, or like they are going to catch something from us.  But not you guys.”

I shook my head in disbelief.  I didn’t quite know what to say.  Then I apologized for all the people I don’t know who look the other way, or keep their distance.  I apologized for all the people who are held captive by their fears.  I admitted that I was one of them once.  There was a time when I too wasn’t sure where the boundaries were, or what they were, or if and how they should be crossed.  Then I found FHSKC, and one day I felt inspired to leap.  And on that day I hugged one of the people we serve.  And then I hugged another.  And another.  Suddenly, my world became bigger. I have a theory that our hearts grow bigger with these embraces as well.  Walls fall down.  Friendships begin.  And love wins.

I’m thankful for the family we become as our group grows, and I’m eager to watch our story continue to unfold.  I’m grateful to be a part of a team of people who opens their arms to the homeless community and loves them and meets them right where they are.  Because it’s truly that simple…..everyone deserves to be loved.

Another Chapter Has Begun....

Since life is this ever evolving thing, mine has continued to change with the passing years.  In the midst of all the change, I've quit taking the time to process with words posted to this blog.  I've often had times where I have thought to change that.  Yet, my introversion (and possibly insecurities....no, definitely my insecurities) have kept me from doing so.

For the last 3 months I have become more heavily involved with a local chapter called Free Hot Soup KC. It's a community of members who do outreach for the homeless in our area.  It's a beautiful collection of members who want to give back.  Be a light in the darkness.  Bring hope to the homeless.  I'll be honest here; when I first attended one of the outreach Sundays last year, I thought it was a pretty awesome idea, but it was still in its infant stages, and it hadn't quite "taken off" yet.  After attending a few times, I decided to focus my attention on other volunteer projects for the time being.  This year though, the group has blossomed and grown substantially.

I have found that in reaching out to love others, I have also begun learning to love myself more.  Selflessness is a funny thing.  In the right arena, you can give and give and give....and find that your cup is still full.  Mother Teresa once said (I sure do love quoting that wise woman), "I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, but only more love."  Ah, such truth.  And boy does it ever hurt sometimes.

It used to feel easier to hide.  To stop trusting others.  To protect myself from all the pains of life.  And some days and in some ways I suppose it still does....
But being a part of this group is teaching me that our response really matters.  Mother Teresa also said, "It is easy to love the people far away. It is not always easy to love those close to us. It is easier to give a cup of rice to relieve hunger than to relieve the loneliness and pain of someone unloved in our own home. Bring love into your home for this is where our love for each other must start."  These words rang so true when I first became more involved with this group.  Then I found that the more involved I became, the more I got to know the people we serve.  This is the start of relationship.  Which brings the start of the hard stuff; loving people even when you know of all the little idiocycrosies about them that have the potential to drive you mad.  And still loving them anyways.

I'll be honest; I've had days where I've wanted to quit.  But each time I've had to ask myself why, and the answer has always been a desire to walk away in the face of adversity.  To resort to old habits of isolation.  To go it alone because relationship is hard work.  But I'm still here.  And I believe it's time to start spelling things out again.  Because our lives are comprised of stories.  And some of those stories are begging to be heard......

To Taste Death

Grief is a funny thing.  For some reason it elicits the voice of others telling you what you should or shouldn't do.  As if another person could actually determine what you truly need in the present moment.  For everyone experiences it in their own unique way.  Some become quiet and/or reclusive.  Some want to chatter non stop.  Some people want to stay busy.  Some want to cry.....and some don't.
Everyone is distracted.  Some people have a hard time staying on task.

Family gathers.  Friends come and go.  The days are long, but then again, so are the nights.

Morning brings the memory that death is real.  And  personal.

And the idea of another entire day.....looms.

Everyone wishes they had more time.  Some people have regrets.

Reflection abounds.

People scramble in search of photos.

Sometimes love and kindness dominate.  Sometimes tempers flare.

Heads and hearts feel heavy.

A deep ache can leave you clutching your chest.

Sometimes deep breaths are necessary.

Sometimes you need time alone.

I need hope.  I need the promise that this isn't the end.  The promise that love never dies.  I need the gentle reminder to give thanks; for the gift of life.  For the gift of love.  For family.

I need prayer.  I need patience.  And I have a great need to be held.

My heart pours heartfelt thoughts and prayers in God's lap, and I hope the ones I have loved are also there to witness it.  I pray they are held.....the way some of us yearn to be; by our Creator.

If I died Tomorrow

If I died tomorrow
What what would they say?
That they always saw a smile on my face?
Because they never saw the tears spilling behind closed doors.
Quite consistently.
Those evenings when the  weight of life leaves me feeling small
As if my efforts were too meager.
Or maybe I'm simply being my own worst critic.
But I'm not alone.
Though I often feel alone.
Peace emerges when I look up and admit that God walks with me.
I don't always feel the peace.
But I always trust the truth.
Some days I find myself hoping to be rescued
Forgetting that I already have been.
And every day he promises to rescue me again.
Emmanuel.....

Perhaps I should work more on telling the truth.
Being honest.
About the joys, and the struggles.
Sharing not for my own sake, but to ease someone else's burden.
I'm certain we all need to be reminded.....
That we are not alone....