Learning From The Wizard of Oz

Lately, I have been struggling with wondering if I am doing enough. Day in and day out for the past 21 months I have dedicated at least 40 hours a week to loving others who are marginalized, poor or experiencing some type of neglect from our world.

Recently, I had a guest come up to me, with a cynical glint in his eye and ask me, "why are you here? Ya know I've been coming here for four years, my buddy's been coming here for eight and my other buddy has been homeless for 11 years. Why are you here, if we are still homeless?"

I didn't know what to say so I said nothing, I just smiled and said, "I am here because I want to show you that someone cares that you're homeless and that someone wants to see you happy." He chuckled a very doubty laugh and walked away. But this encounter got me thinking...

Why do I do all this? Some of my kids may never get to college or even graduate high school; heck, some may be killed or get into drugs. Some of my guests may get abused or relapse or die on the streets. And some may never get housed. Being the logical thinker I am, I know very well that I will not end poverty...even Jesus said, "for you will always have the poor with you; but you do not always have me" (Matthew 26:11)...so with that, what am I doing?

Last year, I gave a speech at our Re-Orientation retreat about loving until it hurts. I quotes Mama T's quote: "If I love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love." I reflected on what that meant for me and my kids. I think that's what rings true beneath the cynicism: Love.

Still, I can't help but go to that dark place sometimes, when a guest relapses, or stands me up for an appointment, or loses the ID we just worked so hard to get for him and what helps me keep going is this thought I had after hearing a quote from the Wizard of Oz (I was babysitting tonight and this is what we watched): At the end of the day, God is not going to measure my heart by how many I have loved or how many I have saved from poverty as a checklist...He is going to feel that and know my impact and my heart's true intent by how many love me. Look at Mama T, she never loved me, she never even knew me but I loved her. I loved the work she did and the gusto she did it with...her character, her worth and her heart is measured by the people who loved her.

So this incomplete rambling of my frazzled brain can only be summed up by the quote that started it all:

"A heart is not judged by how much you love, but by how much you are loved by others" (The Wizard to the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz)

I Listen.

I have been on a hiatus for a wee bit but I am back because I have been inspired by the JVC Fundraiser I went to last night for the DC chapter of JVC.

At the fundraiser, the current JVs were asked to say a few words about who we are, where we're from and what we do. My co-worker and I fumbled under the sudden nerves we felt (and sleep deprivation of being up for 14 hours already that day) and didn't do our job justice. In lieu of that mess up, I want to do it justice here.

What do I do? Well the rehearsed answer I wanted to give was "I work at a social service agency that provides two hot meals a day to those experiencing homelessness while encouraging them to participate in our creative writing and art therapy studios. In addition, I do informal case management; so I do everything from getting them toiletries to applying for citizenship or housing.

What do I really do though? I listen.

I listen to the people, who in their 18 hours of awake-ness,every day, don't get to talk to anyone. I listen to those who feel like they have no place to go. I listen to women who have been through sexual or domestic abuse, I listen to people who see things that aren't actually there and I follow them into their delusions. I listen to men who are too proud to admit they need help and men who are too lazy to apply for something themselves. I listen to mothers worry as they fret about where they are going to spend the night with their two children. I listen to men who are drunk, coked out, high as a kite or hung over beyond belief. And I listen to people who have stories to share and ideas to contribute.

I listen.

So what do I do?
Well, let me take you through today: Got up at 8am, caught the Metro to a meeting I had at 10am. Listen to people from prominent social service agencies talk about how to solve Veteran homelessness until 12:30pm. Went to Wendy's with a co-worker (enjoyed a cheeseburger...it's all about life's simple joys). Headed to work by 1pm. Fielded voice mails and e-mails from 1:30pm-2:15pm and then set up for Studio/Afternoon Program. At 2:30pm Studio began. I immediately was flooded with Birth Certificate voucher requests and DC ID requests...many forms to fill out. Then "what I do" happened. I met with two very, very different men.

One, is a man struggling with drug/alcohol dependency and schizophrenia. He sees things I don't and I follow him into his world time and time again. Today, it was about movies. He was telling me that he's in a spaceship and I ask him what color the spaceship is and he says silver because all of them are silver. This man is always quick to smile at me, is a bit of a lose cannon and can be very unpredictable because his delusions make him react to things in violent/angry ways. Today, I talked about spaceships and stars with him for about 30 minutes. Today, I listened.

The other man is living with many, many medical problems and is in denial of the help he needs. He is always a jokester and is always seeking attention from others. My goal with him for the past two months has been to get him to see a doctor that treats the disease he is living with but he always laughs me off or changes the subject when I bring it up. Two days ago he finally went with my co-worker to get his food stamps and Medicaid card (two things we've been trying to get him to do for four months). Riding the coat tails of that, he sought me out today. He made me meet with him in my office and we talked. He talked and cried about his illness and how scared he was and I quietly sat there. He looked at me, with blood shot eyes and said, "Katie, I want to see a doctor; I don't want to die before I turn 31." I immediately contacted a doctor friend of mine and a clinic and we set up an appointment. Today, I discovered he got his food stamps card. Today, I listened.

Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

I am learning, I am constantly growing and developing as a person. My newest lesson I'm learning how to grieve. I lost a friend this past weekend; the Shehan Center lost a great role model and the world lost a bright star. She pushed me to be myself and stand up for myself and always believed in me. She taught me the dance moves to "Super Bass" by Nikki Minaj and "Girls" by Beyonce. She always made fun of my "whiteness" but also appreciated me for it. She was a strong, beautiful, wonderful human being who always danced like no one was watching.

The whys, the what-ifs, the hows have faded by now and am I now left with an tiny empty spot, where my friend used to fill. Through the moments of sadness and the moments she pops into my head throughout my day, I feel like my faith has only gotten stronger because of her tragic passing.

Sunday and Monday were difficult but as I looked at my schedule for the week ahead of me, I noticed a trend. Each day, God's hand was carrying me along the way because I had some form of support visiting my house each day. Bill was Tuesday, my spiritual director was Wednesday, my local support people were Thursday and my JVC supervisor was Friday-Monday. God's hand and whole being was actively working in my life. Although I am mourning her passing and missing her; I have an overwhelming feeling that I am being taken care of. My core is free-er, more open, more willing to let God lead me; to let God carry me.

I was telling my spiritual director yesterday that I have never felt this kind of peace before. My soul has relinquished control and offered everything up to God and I've never felt that before. My heart feels open; broken, but open, and ready for God to drive for a while. I've never felt that kind of relaxation and peace before.

My spiritual director kept asking me, "where is God in that? Where did you feel or see God in that?" This is how I choose to remember my friend, this is how I choose to honor and celebrate her life: I will see God in "it", I will strive to find God in all things and dance like no one is watching.

RIP Chantel Osorio ~ March 16, 1987 - March 17, 2012

Learning How to Sit Shot Gun

Either with my community mates, friends back home, family or co-workers, all have requested more stories; all have asked me to share the stories of the people in my life. I could write a novel (and I'm trying to) of all the people I've met and all the interesting things I've seen. I couldn't create or fabricate some of the interesting things I see every day at my workplace; for instance: One man's most prized possession is his Captain America shield he carries on his backpack (it's life size) or another man only wants articles and information from Wikipedia, all other sources are untrustworthy or another man asks for two spaceship pictures off the Internet every day and once he gets them, he sits with them, admiring his accomplishment.

It's an interesting world I get to be a part of but I think it's important for me to remember that in each quirky character trait and interesting nuance, they are people; they are people with souls, spirits and hearts.

Yesterday I was walking with my roommate to church and we passed by Martha's Table, a family outreach center that does a TON of social service work in the city. We walked by a line of people (probably about 15 people long) and I recognized a guest from Miriam's waiting in line. He saw me and hid his face, I mean immediately averted his glance to the brick wall to his left instead of looking at me; now, I'm not sure if it was because he thought he was a traitor for going to another agency for help or because he was down right embarrassed to be recognized by me. I like to think it was the later of the two though.

This little interaction reminded me that these "stories", these guests I have the privilege to meet, are people. They have feelings and probably don't want some 20-something white girl calling them out in a crowd when they are already having to be more than slightly humiliated by standing in line for services anyway. I often find myself wrestling with whether or not I should publicly recognize guests I see on the street because of how they may react. I guess, at the end of the day, the only thing I can do is smile and let them make the move, let them be in the driver seat and allow myself to sit shot gun.

"The Best Curve on a Woman is Her Smile." - MK Guest

What a difference a kind word makes. "Good Morning" is the challenge and smiling is the name of the game.

At my placement, I have been bequeathed the nickname "Smiley". I never really understood what made my smile more impactful than someone else's to warrant the nickname, but I went with it. After about two months at this placement, I have noticed my smiling has been on the decline the busier I get. It seems amid the chaos, the first casualty is my smile.

In an effort to truly deserve my new nickname and revive my old smiling ways, I have made a conscious effort to smile more often and at more people throughout my day. When I am just standing at the desk, waiting for the bus or just presenting a "relaxed face", I stop myself and force myself to smile.

One afternoon, I was standing at the front desk (day eight of "Operation Smile 2012") and a guest came up to me. He began talking to me and telling me about his legal troubles and issues he's recently been having as a homeless man in DC. This guest is one of my favorites and I really enjoy talking to him. As I am speaking with him he interrupts his entire story and says, "ya know, Katie, I have to tell you; yesterday I was having a really crumby day...and I mean down right awful and I walked through those doors into the dining room and saw you at the front desk smiling and all of a sudden, my day didn't seem so bad. I just wanted to thank you for that." Of course, this elicited a huge smile from me and I responded, "well, thank you, I figured it's the least I can do!" He laughed and said, "I once heard the quote, 'the best curve on a woman's body is her smile' and now I know it's true. Don't stop smiling because it helps me."

I am not sharing this story to make people go, "ohhh, isn't she a saint?" I am sharing this story to help spread awareness and invite more people to join "Operation Smile 2012" in an effort to make people's days better. It's amazing how smiling can even make you feel more upbeat! Start small, notice when you're having down time, or waiting to cross the street or waiting in line at the store, smile. Have your relaxed face be a smiling one because you never know who's watching and if you're really feeling daring, say "Good morning or afternoon" to a stranger. It's amazing how much it can impact a life. :)

The Rainbow Connection

"Have you been half asleep and have you heard voices?
I've heard them calling my name.
Is this the sweet sound that called the young sailors.
The voice might be one and the same.
I've heard it too many times to ignore it.
It's something that I'm supposed to be." -The Rainbow Connection, Kermit the Frog

I've had a few revelations and reflections lately that are helping to bring me back to me...or at least the person I want to be. This song came on my MP3 player this morning and it made me smile...it reminded me of the little person inside of me who believes in Kermit the Frog's words of imagination, dreaming big and living those imaginations and dreams out. As I wave at the 1/2 way point of my JV year while it passes by; I think back to why I joined JVC in the first place. I didn't just join so I could "make a difference" but I wanted to feel that difference. I wanted to be a witness to God on earth and be a friend to those who have very few. I wanted to dream and imagine big and act on that. I wanted to be part of that dream and spawn others to want to be part of that dream too.

I think in my year and a half as a JV, I have begun to lose that initial drive that brought me here. I have seen myself grow and change in good ways, but as I sit with the person I am now, I feel like I have forgotten about the Rainbow Connection. Between the huge battles I fight with my guests, seniors or children from last year or the stubborn co-workers, government employees or council members, I have gotten bogged down in the survival mode instead of the dreamer mode.

I think the important thing a JV brings to a non-profit is the dreamer mentality. The people or children we work with/for are caught in the survival mode of life (justifiably so) and it is a beautiful gift we offer as JVs to provide opportunities to dream. Some guests have been homeless for 20+ years, but I think it is the breath of fresh air a volunteer corps member brings to their lives that can help motivate them to end the chronic homelessness they've been experiencing.

I want to avoid burnout, not because I fear being tired or worn out, but because I fear the loss of the dreamer. I fear the bigger implications it may have on my guests. Once my inner dreamer dies, who is left to imagine and dream big? It is not just Kermit the Frog's mentality, but it should be mine as well...to at least strive to embrace and encourage that inner imaginier, dreamer and lover.

"Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection. The lovers, the dreamers and me." -The Rainbow Connection, Kermit the Frog

Today's Lessons

Alright so today's lessons are brought to you by a 65-year-old man at my work who is currently homeless and originally from the Ivory Coast, I believe. He doesn't look 65, but he is and will remind you of how young he looks any chance he gets.

So today he told me three life lessons and told me I needed to put them in a book one day, but I need to quote him or else I would be a liar...his words, not mine.

The three bits of advice he wanted to bestow on such a "beautiful young woman" are:

1) Don't have kids.
2) Don't get married.
3) Don't be a hypocrite because it ages you.

I think the most important aspect of these is not just noting where he is coming from and his value system but also the last bit of advice. He didn't say, don't be a mean person or a liar or a thief or murderer or homeless person...he said hypocrite.

On reflection, I think about the hypocrisies in my life. Too many times I get caught up in the "they"...what are "they" doing? In what ways are "they" not meeting expectations? In what ways are "they" not pushing themselves enough? I noticed I put too much focus on the "they" and not enough on the unselfish "me". As I focus on others and their issues I take the focus off of me and the different ways I don't measure up. I think that's my hypocrisy. I work every day to help homeless men accept their failures and problem solve to rise above them and I fall short in taking that very same hard look in the mirror.

In being of service to others, I think I lose sight of looking at individuals and see the group. I look at the 150 men I work with and say, "alright, how can I cut down this line or assist many in an efficient way?" The service isn't found there, it helps, but it's not in the "how many can I cross of the help list" mindset; it's in the "how can I be fully present, and fully a friend, to this man right now?" My hypocrisy that is aging me can be found in my focus on treating the masses, instead of the individual, and in the "they" mentality...I am reminded of the last line in Mother Theresa's poem, "Anyway": "You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and your God; It was never between you and them anyway."