Yesterday I was having these migraines most of the day, and they got progressively worse as the hours went on. This could be because of my current eating and sleeping habits (which I now know will lead to "reperfusion injury," but in an effort to pass my classes, hang out with friends and family, and spend more time painting and collaging and reading for fun, I have chosen to suffer the consequences for the time being), but it might be because of my tendency to over think things frequently. In any case, I took some more medicine yesterday and got lots of sleep in my warm room, with my only fear being that the building could catch fire and I might not wake up to it, and definitely wouldn't want to wake up to some "Public Safety" officer telling me I had to exit the building so they could issue an all-clear. And let me tell you-- it was only a minor fear.
Heidi ("D") never ended up coming by the other day. We were supposed to meet between 8:45 and 9:15. The place didn't open until 9, but I was there a few moments before and stayed until 9:45. I figured she couldn't get out this way, or her appointment ran long, or she ran into some trouble, said a quick prayer for her, and walked on to chapel. But last night, in those times I would wake up for a few minutes and then fall back asleep, I started to think about Heidi. She's been on the streets now for only two months or so. She's still learning her way around. I met her her first day on the streets, when aid from friends had run out, and I've seen her through the "this is just temporary" stage where she carries around some nice stuff still... through at least two separate robberies where they took what she had on her and she barely escaped sexual assault... through at least one sexual assault... and now the winter's cold (which lasts for at least six months in this city) has arrived and I don't know what's going to happen to her.
When I fall asleep, I don't have to worry about sleeping with my bag clutched to my chest, hoping that my arms lock in such a way that I would wake up if someone were disturbing me. I don't have to worry about being woken up by dogs or by drunks pissing on me or my stuff, or by some cop telling me it's time to move along now. When I have a headache, I have the aspirin or Excedrin or Ibuprofen I need to make it go away-- I can sleep with a rag over my eyes, and know that I can adjust my room's temperatures to whatever it needs to be for me to get the best sleep. And I don't have to worry about being woken up to a sexual assault.
Almost five years ago, I was sitting in a missions school in Los Angeles, listening to some speaker talk about doing ministry in the midst of the homeless and the disease-ridden and the dying. I asked then, how in the world we are supposed to help and I remember being given some answer about trying to help just one at a time; it rang hollow to me then, because I knew how overwhelmed I got when I walked past every single person who was honest enough to admit he or she had a need.
Some five years later, I'm here in the city; I've lived downtown for twenty-one months now. And still, every time I see someone honest enough to admit he or she needs help, everything inside sorta crushes. I know why I got that answer-- it was the only answer that made sense to the guy. And after all these months, it's the only thing I'm capable of doing. I can't change the city laws or the government to allow for adequate housing or better programs, and I don't even know what those things would look like. I remember meeting Mike, a homeless friend who told me that if I really gave a damn about their lives, I would leave my comfortable home for a year and go and live on the streets, because until I did, I'd never have a voice worth listening to.
I want to reach up and pull an answer out of the sky and give it to you all as the perfect way to do ministry to the homeless, but I can't. I still have no idea how to effect change in an entire population. But I think that allowing the problem and questions to wake me up in the middle of the night is a start. I think that promising to be waiting for D every time we say we're going to meet up, in case she actually can make it to one of them, is a start. I think that taking the money I would be giving to some Jubilee, and sharing it with the homeless in the same Spirit, is a start. And I don't know much about finishing races, but I know what the next step looks like, and I think that maybe I'm just going to focus on taking the next step for now.
And God, please watch over these friends, cause it's getting dangerously cold and I'm worried for them.
18.11.08
So last week on the train...
I was sitting there, albeit with an "abortion is mean" patch over the hole in my pants knee (well-- it used to be over the hole; now it's merely another part of the fabric around an ever-enlarging hole), when these two guys walked on the train. Now, not being a person particularly given to stereotypes, the fact that they were male wasn't quite enough to make me do much more than smirk and wait to see what interesting things were awaiting me.
Sure enough, we weren't more than
*Author pauses at this point to remind the readers that she sent this link to people over the age of 18. If you are under 18, or you are offended by what is commonly referred to as "language," then this is probably where you should stop reading. Really. Because while I could change the words of what was being said, I'm exercising my right not to.*
Sure enough, we weren't more than thirty seconds in our ride together before the one guy looks over at me and says "Abortion is mean."
"mm-hmm," I respond.
"No-- seriously. It is. Thanks for getting the word out."
I look up at him, surprised to find some good looking kid on the other end of those words who, to be fair, didn't look like he wanted to get in my pants, but rather make a new friend. I smiled and we began talking. Highlights of the conversation:
His buying two "student tickets" (one for him and one for his friend), despite telling me that he's 20 and "can't believe that shit still works" and "I'm a good liar-- no one ever questions me. That's why I'm a good telelmarketer."
His asking me if I listened to a number of bands, including Bright Eyes, Mest, and some forty other groups/singers I'd never heard of. I wrote down his favorites and said I'd look them up (and I will).
His telling me he's a tagger, but only tags things like "peace" "love" and "hope." That conversation went within seconds to "I smoke pot-- do you?" (my answer was " no"-- his response: "do you want to start?" My answer remained "no.")
We discussed war for a little bit... He asked where I lived and I said downtown, but when he asked what school I went to, I told him I wasn't going to say. In reality, it was because I don't like having to deal with everyone's preconceived notions about people who attend this school. But he took it as a step of wisdom in not giving him all my information, which I suppose is a smart idea as well.
He invited me to a party... I said I wasn't sure I would go.
He gave me his number and made me promise I'd call him, even just once.
And then... he invited me to the party again.
And while he and his friends gathered their belongings to get off the train, he said "Hey look-- it's not all about sex for me, okay? I really want you to know that. And I promise you, if you come and hang out with us, I won't try to fuck you."
His face was full of such earnestness, I didn't pause to point out that this was coming within mere minutes of his admiration of his own skills at lying.
Sometimes life is just so full of fun, you know? And sometimes our own honesty can be our downfall. I was thinking about how different my days would be if I would just be that honest with people all the time, letting them see my own contradictions, because I know that I have them. There's something childlike in that. Something I think I want to see more in my life, in place of all the games to try to keep the right faces up to the right people. I want to figure out where I'm not honest, and I want to change.
"D"-- Heidi from earlier stories, said she's gonna try and come by in the next hour or so, so hopefully we'll be hanging out, which will be nice.
Sure enough, we weren't more than
*Author pauses at this point to remind the readers that she sent this link to people over the age of 18. If you are under 18, or you are offended by what is commonly referred to as "language," then this is probably where you should stop reading. Really. Because while I could change the words of what was being said, I'm exercising my right not to.*
Sure enough, we weren't more than thirty seconds in our ride together before the one guy looks over at me and says "Abortion is mean."
"mm-hmm," I respond.
"No-- seriously. It is. Thanks for getting the word out."
I look up at him, surprised to find some good looking kid on the other end of those words who, to be fair, didn't look like he wanted to get in my pants, but rather make a new friend. I smiled and we began talking. Highlights of the conversation:
His buying two "student tickets" (one for him and one for his friend), despite telling me that he's 20 and "can't believe that shit still works" and "I'm a good liar-- no one ever questions me. That's why I'm a good telelmarketer."
His asking me if I listened to a number of bands, including Bright Eyes, Mest, and some forty other groups/singers I'd never heard of. I wrote down his favorites and said I'd look them up (and I will).
His telling me he's a tagger, but only tags things like "peace" "love" and "hope." That conversation went within seconds to "I smoke pot-- do you?" (my answer was " no"-- his response: "do you want to start?" My answer remained "no.")
We discussed war for a little bit... He asked where I lived and I said downtown, but when he asked what school I went to, I told him I wasn't going to say. In reality, it was because I don't like having to deal with everyone's preconceived notions about people who attend this school. But he took it as a step of wisdom in not giving him all my information, which I suppose is a smart idea as well.
He invited me to a party... I said I wasn't sure I would go.
He gave me his number and made me promise I'd call him, even just once.
And then... he invited me to the party again.
And while he and his friends gathered their belongings to get off the train, he said "Hey look-- it's not all about sex for me, okay? I really want you to know that. And I promise you, if you come and hang out with us, I won't try to fuck you."
His face was full of such earnestness, I didn't pause to point out that this was coming within mere minutes of his admiration of his own skills at lying.
Sometimes life is just so full of fun, you know? And sometimes our own honesty can be our downfall. I was thinking about how different my days would be if I would just be that honest with people all the time, letting them see my own contradictions, because I know that I have them. There's something childlike in that. Something I think I want to see more in my life, in place of all the games to try to keep the right faces up to the right people. I want to figure out where I'm not honest, and I want to change.
"D"-- Heidi from earlier stories, said she's gonna try and come by in the next hour or so, so hopefully we'll be hanging out, which will be nice.
30.10.08
No sex tonight sir, sorry
I was walking from one train to the next last night (in a clean, well-lit area) and a well-dressed man walked past me, muttering something as he was approaching.
Not having made out quite what he'd said, I asked "I'm sorry sir-- I didn't quite catch that. Could you repeat yourself?"
"hey-- can I freak you tonight?"
Oh-- was that all?
I responded, "No sir, I'd rather not, but I'd love to go to a bar with you and discuss how your supposed need for sex is really just an expression of your need for intimacy with Christ."
He acquiesced and we chatted into the wee hours of the morning.
okay, not really.
my response was "Oh. Um, no but thanks for asking. Have a nice night."
Had I been with people, though, and I'm sure this is going to get me into trouble with some, I would have absolutely found a coffee shop or 24-hour place to hang out and talk with him about his misplaced passion.
I believe that people are all the time walking by, and we too often pass up opportunities.
And really-- this man walked past me and had no qualms about not only asking me for sex, but also repeating himself when I hadn't heard him.
Sex. For his needs.
But what about hope. For his needs?
What if I walked past people and said "hey-- can I give you hope tonight" as we passed on the streets?
Would they stop?
Even if they didn't, what could be the worse that would happen?
They'd think I was weird?
This wasn't the first time I'd been propositioned, not by far.
And I know many friends in the same boat.
There seem to be quite a few men in Chicago walking around asking random women for sex or sexual favors.
Culturally, I know it's something that happens.
What if we walked around asking if we could give people hope?
What would happen then?
What if i got a cardboard sign and sat on a corner for hours, with the sign saying "I'd love to offer you hope for free if you'd only listen for a few minutes."
Who would listen?
I'm sure they would
Maybe I just need to get a little uncomfortable and unconventional in my evangelism. Why not use the culturally accepted things (random comments to strangers, cardboard signs, cigarettes and lights) to spark conversations about eternal things?
Maybe that's what I'll do when I graduate Moody...
Not having made out quite what he'd said, I asked "I'm sorry sir-- I didn't quite catch that. Could you repeat yourself?"
"hey-- can I freak you tonight?"
Oh-- was that all?
I responded, "No sir, I'd rather not, but I'd love to go to a bar with you and discuss how your supposed need for sex is really just an expression of your need for intimacy with Christ."
He acquiesced and we chatted into the wee hours of the morning.
okay, not really.
my response was "Oh. Um, no but thanks for asking. Have a nice night."
Had I been with people, though, and I'm sure this is going to get me into trouble with some, I would have absolutely found a coffee shop or 24-hour place to hang out and talk with him about his misplaced passion.
I believe that people are all the time walking by, and we too often pass up opportunities.
And really-- this man walked past me and had no qualms about not only asking me for sex, but also repeating himself when I hadn't heard him.
Sex. For his needs.
But what about hope. For his needs?
What if I walked past people and said "hey-- can I give you hope tonight" as we passed on the streets?
Would they stop?
Even if they didn't, what could be the worse that would happen?
They'd think I was weird?
This wasn't the first time I'd been propositioned, not by far.
And I know many friends in the same boat.
There seem to be quite a few men in Chicago walking around asking random women for sex or sexual favors.
Culturally, I know it's something that happens.
What if we walked around asking if we could give people hope?
What would happen then?
What if i got a cardboard sign and sat on a corner for hours, with the sign saying "I'd love to offer you hope for free if you'd only listen for a few minutes."
Who would listen?
I'm sure they would
Maybe I just need to get a little uncomfortable and unconventional in my evangelism. Why not use the culturally accepted things (random comments to strangers, cardboard signs, cigarettes and lights) to spark conversations about eternal things?
Maybe that's what I'll do when I graduate Moody...
24.10.08
in lieu of the more commonplace
On my way out soon, but wanted to share a thought before I leave
Two good friends have been instruments of God lately, forcing me to face some things that I've ignored for a long time. I don't have the time to explain it all, and really this isn't the forum for it anyway. But suffice it to say that there was a time in my life, not very long ago, when I ran very hard away from God and decided to turn my back on everything I'd known to be true up till then.
Eventually, I stopped running (read: fell and hurt myself and, limping, went home).
Those months of my life have left me with a mountain of regret.
And what I hate about them is not the other person involved, but who I became in those months. And I hate what they've done to me. And I hate limping.
And I'm trying to figure out what it means to forgive myself.
I'm trying to figure out what it means to accept it and move on.
But it's a lot harder. No one ever said it would be easy, but I don't think I ever heard them say it would be this hard, either.
If you think of it, pray for me.
I can't survive being in this place much longer.
Two good friends have been instruments of God lately, forcing me to face some things that I've ignored for a long time. I don't have the time to explain it all, and really this isn't the forum for it anyway. But suffice it to say that there was a time in my life, not very long ago, when I ran very hard away from God and decided to turn my back on everything I'd known to be true up till then.
Eventually, I stopped running (read: fell and hurt myself and, limping, went home).
Those months of my life have left me with a mountain of regret.
And what I hate about them is not the other person involved, but who I became in those months. And I hate what they've done to me. And I hate limping.
And I'm trying to figure out what it means to forgive myself.
I'm trying to figure out what it means to accept it and move on.
But it's a lot harder. No one ever said it would be easy, but I don't think I ever heard them say it would be this hard, either.
If you think of it, pray for me.
I can't survive being in this place much longer.
17.10.08
Plank in My Eye -- The End (of this chapter)
i left off slammed with conviction, right?
i think that's about accurate.
You see, i've always been a person to give money to people on the streets. I mean, if they want to buy food they should be able to buy food. And hell, if they want to buy alcohol, they should be able to buy alcohol (and proverbs tells us to give strong drink to the crushed in spirit; along those lines, so help me, if life ends me up on the streets someday, please give me some money for alcohol; of buy me a few shots, cause i'm gonna need them). And I'm typically the person taking others out of their comfort zones with my desire to try to find some way to sneak Heidi into my dorm room to sleep (no, moody, you don't have to worry) or to cut off our lunch conversation to bring someone else into it, someone who probably hasn't had anyone listen to him in a while.. I'm usually that person.
I mean, I joke with Adam about being in his life only to stretch him and his assumptions and make things incredibly uncomfortable for him, but to some extent I feel like that's my place in life. At any rate, it's a role I fit into easily.
But I found myself walking away from these two guys, questioning the one justifiably ridiculously-- was he really wanting the spaghetti or did he just take it hoping i'd offer him cash as well? This despite the look i'd seen on his face, the look of hunger waiting to be satisfied, of joy at this spaghetti i was giving him.
I questioned the other though, and that questioning, though it may make sense to some people, was just as ridiculous. Was he really going to Elgin? Why did he looked surprised at my offering him the ticket? Why did he ask for money and not a ticket? Was he really, really going? Did I have to spend my money (which i would actually be able to enjoy if i wasn't so busy giving it away all the time) on him? What if God had wanted to just bless ME with the extra ticket...
Convicted
Is that where I was in the story?
Cause that's where I was by this point. Slammed with it, suddenly.
How often does God grant me grace for something, and I pledge my repentance and that I'll never fall there again... only to be there again in a few days?
How many times have I pretended to really want his forgiveness, only to want a temporary reprieve from the intense guilt I feel all the time?
AND YET HE GIVES. he knows this and yet he gives.
Haven't I seen myself, again and again, taking what God's given me and misusing it? Taking grace and using it to assuage my guilt instead of to stop my sin?
...Aren't I the one, asking not for a 6$ ticket or a plate of spaghetti, but for forgiveness and mercy and breath for another day, only to spit on those when he's turned around... not taking those things to buy biblically-sanctioned alcohol, but taking them to buy ardently condemned rationalization for more sin in my life?
Who the hell did i think i was, to be questioning their motives?
And why in the world didn't I question my own motives before God?
Lord, grant me what I need to live a life worthy of the Gospel you've called me to. And not for my sake, but for yours. Open my eyes.
Having been given all, let me give all.
i think that's about accurate.
You see, i've always been a person to give money to people on the streets. I mean, if they want to buy food they should be able to buy food. And hell, if they want to buy alcohol, they should be able to buy alcohol (and proverbs tells us to give strong drink to the crushed in spirit; along those lines, so help me, if life ends me up on the streets someday, please give me some money for alcohol; of buy me a few shots, cause i'm gonna need them). And I'm typically the person taking others out of their comfort zones with my desire to try to find some way to sneak Heidi into my dorm room to sleep (no, moody, you don't have to worry) or to cut off our lunch conversation to bring someone else into it, someone who probably hasn't had anyone listen to him in a while.. I'm usually that person.
I mean, I joke with Adam about being in his life only to stretch him and his assumptions and make things incredibly uncomfortable for him, but to some extent I feel like that's my place in life. At any rate, it's a role I fit into easily.
But I found myself walking away from these two guys, questioning the one justifiably ridiculously-- was he really wanting the spaghetti or did he just take it hoping i'd offer him cash as well? This despite the look i'd seen on his face, the look of hunger waiting to be satisfied, of joy at this spaghetti i was giving him.
I questioned the other though, and that questioning, though it may make sense to some people, was just as ridiculous. Was he really going to Elgin? Why did he looked surprised at my offering him the ticket? Why did he ask for money and not a ticket? Was he really, really going? Did I have to spend my money (which i would actually be able to enjoy if i wasn't so busy giving it away all the time) on him? What if God had wanted to just bless ME with the extra ticket...
Convicted
Is that where I was in the story?
Cause that's where I was by this point. Slammed with it, suddenly.
How often does God grant me grace for something, and I pledge my repentance and that I'll never fall there again... only to be there again in a few days?
How many times have I pretended to really want his forgiveness, only to want a temporary reprieve from the intense guilt I feel all the time?
AND YET HE GIVES. he knows this and yet he gives.
Haven't I seen myself, again and again, taking what God's given me and misusing it? Taking grace and using it to assuage my guilt instead of to stop my sin?
...Aren't I the one, asking not for a 6$ ticket or a plate of spaghetti, but for forgiveness and mercy and breath for another day, only to spit on those when he's turned around... not taking those things to buy biblically-sanctioned alcohol, but taking them to buy ardently condemned rationalization for more sin in my life?
Who the hell did i think i was, to be questioning their motives?
And why in the world didn't I question my own motives before God?
Lord, grant me what I need to live a life worthy of the Gospel you've called me to. And not for my sake, but for yours. Open my eyes.
Having been given all, let me give all.
12.10.08
I've got a plank in my eye, part two
so i got the chance to chat with each of my friends for a bit and then i had to leave, so... i left.
um, point being that as i walked out, i was approached by a man holding some papers in his hand. okay-- i should probably say at this point that i do get approached by a number of homeless people because i look them in the eye when i walk past. i try my best to not ignore people when walking by, pretending they aren't there. as a result, i do happen to get a lot of people who take that look to mean that i'm some loaded tourist who wants to give out cash. this is not the case at all, but it's what people sometimes think.
back up a little bit more, and i can tell you that the wednesday before this happened, i had taken the metra out to elgin. i'd bought two tickets before leaving the station-- one for out there and one for back, but on my ride out there, the conductor made eye contact with me, smiled, and then went to the next person for a ticket. this meant that, upon my arrival back to chicago, i had an extra ticket. planning to use it for the following wednesday, i'd kept it in my bag.
so this guy...
he says he's just out of jail (and shows me his release stuff) and that he needs to get a ticket to elgin. i ask how he's getting to elgin and he says he needs money for a metra ticket. so i give him my metra ticket, and tell him to swear to me that he's going to go, cause otherwise i really do need the ticket. he says he's legit. i give him the ticket and walk away, with that sinking feeling that i've just lost six bucks.
no more than four steps later, my eye-contact strikes again. this guy, he's asking for change. i tell him i have none, but i have a container of spaghetti from a dinner i was just at. now, truth be told, i was hungry. and i love mary's cooking, especially her spaghetti. and she'd made these biscuits that were just so good... *sigh
but i offer it, totally not expecting him to take it, cause people rarely accept it when i offer food. this guy though, smells it and he says yeah, he'll totally take it.
i give it to him, smile, and keep walking, fully convinced that someone was going to ask me for my coat at any moment.
but then i got slammed so hard with conviction, that i actually had to go and sit down and process the thoughts that were racing through my head in the next moment.
(to be continued)
9.10.08
I've got a plank in my eye, part one
i love the homeless. or, i spend a lot of time thinking that i do, but then i'm confronted with times that i really question why in the world i fool myself into thinking i'm doing them any good.
case in point:
monday nights i work with a church that serves a meal to the homeless.
this past monday i saw some friends i'd known for a bit now.
heidi: this was the first time heidi and i had been there at the same time. she and i met outside my school one day when she needed money for a bus pass. i gave her two bus passes and lunch and money for cigarettes. we spent a couple of hours together, talking about life and depression and drugs and being engaged and then not being engaged and her story and my story... good conversation. we parted with her taking my phone number and email address, promising to get in touch sometime, and me really hoping that we did. she had sweet tattoos and a contagious smile and was very easy to love. i walked her to the bus stop, gave her a long hug, received a kiss from her and walked away really hoping that we would see each other again.
before monday, i hadn't heart from her in two weeks-- after our first meeting, we'd lost contact.
as God would have it, on monday i was walking out of the train station, late, and i saw a girl that sounded like her but i wasn't sure if it was her, and i stood there for a bit staring at her (She was having a conversation with some woman) and i guess i was really obvious because there was this guy who was obviously waiting for her, who began staring me down. i waited around while she finished her conversation, getting the evil eye from the guy the whole time, and then finally she turned around. her face registered surprise and she began swearing in excited disbelief, happy to see me. we hugged for a while (she's one of those people who finds a way to hug you while having a conversation with you, which i find awkward but is how she expresses love, so i'm learning). she told me she was going to a church down the street, and wouldn't you know it-- it was the same church i was going to. i met her friend, Loges (short for Logan, i think), and we walked to church together.
claire and russ: i met claire and russ earlier this year-- i guess they'd started coming to the monday night thing during the summer at some point. when i saw claire, she was sitting at the table, seemingly in pain. i went up to her and began talking to her, finding out she was going blind and had some really bad back problems that made life kind of difficult for her. we hadn't been talking long when russ came by to make sure i wasn't bothering her. we three had a long conversation that day and things were fine. met up with them again the following week. we made plans to hang out on thursday night, in their van.
okay-- that might sound like a stupid idea to you, but i felt like i knew them and that things would be okay (until the hour before i left when i started to feel more cautious than usual). i went, i talked with them, i lived. however, i learned that i will never do it again. not because anything happened, but because there was a lot that could have happened, and the conversation was one that probably would have been much safer/wiser had it been in the church (the low point was when i was told by russ that i need more broad sexual experience to effectively work with at-risk teens). anyhow, they were there that evening.
carl: carl was absolutely my first friend there from last semester. a sweet man, he's about a foot and half taller than i am, likes to talk about people's psychological disorders (very knowledgeably-- i'd bet he has a background studying behavioral stuff) and politics (we became friends when i saw his button about bush. i don't remember what it said, but it was clever and a friendship was formed), and loves to kiss me on the cheek. I hadn't seen him in my previous weeks at the church, and he was excited to see me again, and give me a kiss.
the point: this is all setting the background for my monday evening. these people are wonderful. all very different people who i doubt would get along were i to seat them at the same table, but all people that i can see the image of God in, and in my better moments, remember to pray for. i call them friends and they call me the same, and i exchange kisses with all of them (except russ, who i'm not sure i'll ever feel entirely comfortable around) and spend most of the night catching up with heidi and her friends Loges and "white girl" (who i think is puerto rican. i forget her name, but Loges calls her white girl).
after serving the meal and sneaking some extra salad to heidi and friends, i get ready to leave to finish my monday night routine.
that'll be another blog-- this is getting long and i need to go to bed.
case in point:
monday nights i work with a church that serves a meal to the homeless.
this past monday i saw some friends i'd known for a bit now.
heidi: this was the first time heidi and i had been there at the same time. she and i met outside my school one day when she needed money for a bus pass. i gave her two bus passes and lunch and money for cigarettes. we spent a couple of hours together, talking about life and depression and drugs and being engaged and then not being engaged and her story and my story... good conversation. we parted with her taking my phone number and email address, promising to get in touch sometime, and me really hoping that we did. she had sweet tattoos and a contagious smile and was very easy to love. i walked her to the bus stop, gave her a long hug, received a kiss from her and walked away really hoping that we would see each other again.
before monday, i hadn't heart from her in two weeks-- after our first meeting, we'd lost contact.
as God would have it, on monday i was walking out of the train station, late, and i saw a girl that sounded like her but i wasn't sure if it was her, and i stood there for a bit staring at her (She was having a conversation with some woman) and i guess i was really obvious because there was this guy who was obviously waiting for her, who began staring me down. i waited around while she finished her conversation, getting the evil eye from the guy the whole time, and then finally she turned around. her face registered surprise and she began swearing in excited disbelief, happy to see me. we hugged for a while (she's one of those people who finds a way to hug you while having a conversation with you, which i find awkward but is how she expresses love, so i'm learning). she told me she was going to a church down the street, and wouldn't you know it-- it was the same church i was going to. i met her friend, Loges (short for Logan, i think), and we walked to church together.
claire and russ: i met claire and russ earlier this year-- i guess they'd started coming to the monday night thing during the summer at some point. when i saw claire, she was sitting at the table, seemingly in pain. i went up to her and began talking to her, finding out she was going blind and had some really bad back problems that made life kind of difficult for her. we hadn't been talking long when russ came by to make sure i wasn't bothering her. we three had a long conversation that day and things were fine. met up with them again the following week. we made plans to hang out on thursday night, in their van.
okay-- that might sound like a stupid idea to you, but i felt like i knew them and that things would be okay (until the hour before i left when i started to feel more cautious than usual). i went, i talked with them, i lived. however, i learned that i will never do it again. not because anything happened, but because there was a lot that could have happened, and the conversation was one that probably would have been much safer/wiser had it been in the church (the low point was when i was told by russ that i need more broad sexual experience to effectively work with at-risk teens). anyhow, they were there that evening.
carl: carl was absolutely my first friend there from last semester. a sweet man, he's about a foot and half taller than i am, likes to talk about people's psychological disorders (very knowledgeably-- i'd bet he has a background studying behavioral stuff) and politics (we became friends when i saw his button about bush. i don't remember what it said, but it was clever and a friendship was formed), and loves to kiss me on the cheek. I hadn't seen him in my previous weeks at the church, and he was excited to see me again, and give me a kiss.
the point: this is all setting the background for my monday evening. these people are wonderful. all very different people who i doubt would get along were i to seat them at the same table, but all people that i can see the image of God in, and in my better moments, remember to pray for. i call them friends and they call me the same, and i exchange kisses with all of them (except russ, who i'm not sure i'll ever feel entirely comfortable around) and spend most of the night catching up with heidi and her friends Loges and "white girl" (who i think is puerto rican. i forget her name, but Loges calls her white girl).
after serving the meal and sneaking some extra salad to heidi and friends, i get ready to leave to finish my monday night routine.
that'll be another blog-- this is getting long and i need to go to bed.
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