Tag: OSS

Group that visits and feeds the homeless in Finlay Park.

Getting to know you….

~ Denise ~ 1 Comment

Getting to know people can be hard.

I feel like I’m dancing or walking a fine line sometimes.  Mostly it is when I’m trying to figure out when do I ask a question, and when to keep quiet? I don’t want to seem like I’m prying, but I also want them to know that I care.

My experience has been hurting people will usually withdraw, and only share when they feel they can trust you, and then only just a piece at a time.  It is kind of a test to see what you will do with the information that they entrust you with.

Going to Finley Park and feeding the homeless, I’ve found that the more they see us, the more they will share bits and pieces of their stories.  Some will get their food and then leave right away, while others will stick around to chat.  That is one thing when someone in the group hands out the two cigarettes.  They definitely stick around to get them.  While they are waiting they will talk with us, they will eat and they will wait until we hand those out, and most times, they will stand and smoke one and talk.  It is during those standing around times, that they will share a piece of their story, talk a little more, and even ask for prayer.

I said I would share about the people that I have been meeting, and the next person that I wanted to talk about is “C”.  Well, I started this post about him on the 11th, but didn’t publish it.

Why?  Probably if I’m being real here is because then it says a little more about me that I haven’t shared.

Getting to know people can be hard.  Sharing with strangers people can be hard.

It’s uncomfortable.

This is a two-way learning experience.

2/11/11

Missed “C” last time we were there.  He usually is a fixture, always watches for us.  He will usually stay near us when we are serving and talk to us while he leans up against a pole.

I was looking for him one day and asked one of the other fellows for him and he said “you mean the crippled guy”?  I wouldn’t have described “C” that way.  I mean, yeah, he walks with a limp and has a cane, but since we’ve been going to the park, I’ve seen many of the homeless carrying canes.  I realized that while I may not have described “C” that way, I had fallen into the “seeing by not seeing land”.  The “I don’t want to ask, because I don’t want to make you uncomfortable” realm.  And then there is of course, the “I don’t want to be made uncomfortable” with the topic at hand.

Groan.

How quickly we get used to seeing things, or we see but yet don’t see?  Like, I have seen and not seen the homeless before; and here I was seeing and not seeing something again.  I always feel like I’m walking a tightrope in situations like that.  Do you ask, or not ask, how can you show you care?  My usual mode of operation is let them take the lead if they want to talk about it.

Sometimes conversation just happens.

Today, “C” talked about it to me.  We had missed him last week when we were there.  So, I mentioned that I had missed him, and he said he was at the VA hospital for a doctor’s visit.  He told me he was diagnosed with diabetes and that the doc told him that surgery wouldn’t help his knee, he had RA in it, and surgery wouldn’t fix it.  Well, my ears picked up.

Something that I haven’t talked about on this blog before is my health issues.  Well, only slightly in passing about migraines, but I have RA (Rheumatoid Arthritis).  For those of you unfamiliar with RA it is an autoimmune disease (you can find more about it here).  Pretty much it is your body attacking itself primarily in your joints, however may affect tissues and organs of which there is presently no cure.

Why don’t I talk about it?

Honestly?

RA is a weakness I have (I don’t like to be weak). RA I can’t control (I want to control it). I would prefer to ignore it unless I can’t (hello, surgery last year), or symptoms requires me to face it.   I know what the prognosis is and I don’t care to think about the possible future scenarios.   RA stops your body from doing what your mind says you can and want to do sometimes (hello, control again). RA has you making adjustments to what you can and can’t do, so that all of a sudden you realize “your normal” is not “normal” (hello, weakness again).

Mention you have RA, and usually someone will say “yeah, I have arthritis too.”  Well, it really isn’t the same, (unless they have RA) but yet they think it is and they understand.  Most of the time I just don’t bring it up.

So, we have something in common.  I talked to him about it.  I asked him if someone in his family had it.  He said no, no one had RA or diabetes.  He doesn’t know where he got it.  He wonders if it is the result of his time in the service.  He was just diagnosed last year.  So we talked about his symptoms and what he is experiencing and going through for a little bit.  He is having trouble with numbness in his legs, the stiffness, the acheness (is that a proper word? – it sure feels like it) and general overall feeling of heaviness that accompanies RA.  Pretty much you feel like you have the flu when it is flaring up that just won’t go away.  He is trying to resign himself to wearing a brace on his knee and using the cane for the rest of his life, because the doctor told him he was not a candidate for surgery.

I know, I know, I know…….but ………I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.

I know some of what he is feeling.  I know the frustrations.

But, I don’t know.

I can’t imagine having no choice but to walk the streets in the midst of a bad flare, when there isn’t any place to go.  I’m glad there are places for him to go to get help, but I can’t help but wonder if they just give the minimum care because he is homeless.   I can’t imagine being on the streets in the cold or the heat which bothers the joints.  I can’t imagine having to rouse yourself and get out of a shelter because you have to, when your body is screaming NO, I don’t want to.  I can’t imagine trying to carry most of your belongings or being forced to hold things, when your hands or fingers won’t cooperate or at any given moment not have the strength.  I can’t imagine having to walk mile after mile when your knees scream stop.

When I left today, I told him, “Now I know how to pray for you.”  You know what he said to me?

“And, now I know how to pray for you.”

2/14/11

“C” wasn’t there today.  I had wanted to ask him about his time in culinary school.  He had mentioned which one he had his degree in on our last visit, and I couldn’t remember, so I wanted to get it right before I mentioned it here.  However, he wasn’t here today.  Maybe he has a visit at the VA hospital?  That is where he was the last time we visited the park on a Monday.  When one of the “regulars” isn’t there, I find myself wondering and praying for their health and safety.  We plan on going back next Monday the 21st, hopefully “C” will be back.

2/21/11

“C” was back today.  He had been sick, that is why we hadn’t seen him.  He said he had been at the doctors, which usually means the VA hospital for him, to get some medication.  He said he didn’t come to see us when he was sick because he didn’t want to get us sick.  He said “I wouldn’t come around you guys, if I was sick, I don’t want to get you sick”.  It was a great warm day, there seemed to be more people than normal so we didn’t get quite as much time to chat.  He had a ready hand to help us unload and load the car, and seemed to be getting around well with his new knee brace.  We talked a little about his new “shave” to remove his beard.

Keep “C” in your prayers as he continues to gain his strength and battles any illnesses please, when your immune system doesn’t work right, any illness can be a drain.

Community

~ Denise ~ 9 Comments

Community:  Thesaurus – group of people, neighborhood, the people, kinship, cooperative spirit, similarity.

I’ve been mentally and literally taking some notes about the people we have been meeting when we go to Finley Park for Operation Soup and Smokes.    Little by little they have been sharing their stories with us.  I want to share their stories, but I also want to show them the compassion and respect they deserve.

I know that there are many that support the work at Finley Park but are unable to physically be there.  So, how do I help them feel like they are there and share our new friends’ stories?  I have on a previous blog posted about Bryan, because he is no longer with us.  However, for future blogs about the friends that we are meeting at the park, unless they have given permission to use their names or pictures, I will only refer to them with an initial.

We can get so hung up on attaching a name and a physical description to describe someone, so I’ll try not to do that.  Do you think that is why there are so many unnamed people in the Bible when it comes to some of the big life lessons? Point to ponder on there.  Just thinking off the top of my head, the Good Samaritan, the woman at the well who was given living water, or the woman who wept at Jesus’ feet.  When there isn’t a name, we can then more easily relate to the situation.  Don’t worry though, God knows their name!  Okay, I’m digressing.

Back to Operation Soup and Smokes and the people we are meeting.  These are the life experiences they are sharing with us.  I want to share one today.

R – Has been on the streets since he was 14. His father was an alcoholic, his Mother was not.  Father was an “Army” man; always told him to “go in the Army”.  R got himself in a “bit of trouble” when he was younger, so “that option wasn’t possible”.  When his Mom died, he “just started living on the streets”, and “just doesn’t know anything else”.    He works when he can with “Carnie jobs”.  He fell from a Ferris wheel and hurt his back.  His back really bothers him when he has to carry his duffel.  He stays in a shelter at night.  Right now he is storing his duffel in a warehouse.  He has constant knee problems and they swell really badly.  R is a friendly, cheerful and helpful soul.  He shares what knowledge of life on the streets he knows and where to get help with the “newcomers”.   He helps us set up and serve.  He will tell us about people that need “a helping hand”, and introduce us to them.

On our last trip, he was eating some banana cream pudding and reminiscing about his mama’s pudding.  He said she could make some “mean pudding”.  He stopped for a moment.  He told me that his father could be real mean when he drank.  He said one time his father threw some pudding that his mother had made.  He got quieter.  I don’t know if he said his father threw the pudding at his mother or at the wall.  But then, he looked at me and smiled, and said, “I went and ate it with her.  I wasn’t going to waste it, she made some good pudding.”  And he imitated taking pudding off his face and licking his fingers.  Sometimes actions speak louder than words, you know?  He didn’t have to tell me what really happened that day.  I had a pretty good idea.  There were some tears behind his smile.   Sometimes there really isn’t anything to say out loud.  That’s when I’m praying inside for guidance to either be still and listen or to speak.   For R, he needed an ear to listen and a hug.

“Even in laughter the heart may ache, and joy may end in grief.”  Proverbs 14:13

When we were leaving for the day, after he helped load up the cars, he stopped to tell me that he would be praying for one of the helpers who was scheduled for surgery the following week and the doctor.

Community – yeah, he’s a part of our community.

His name was Bryan

~ Denise ~ 4 Comments

They were just a few moments, just a few words, just a few things.  Words of greeting.  Words of encouragement.  Food for the belly.  A scratch on a dogs head.

We were just beginning to know his story.  He had learned to trust us enough to ask for help when he felt afraid and wanted a ride to another location.

Caring and loving of his only companion, his pal, his dog.

We had been wondering how he had been doing on the streets, because with his dog, he didn’t make use of the shelters, and we had been having  some particularly cold weather.  He had talked about going back to New Mexico.

Now, he has been found, having died from a stroke, his faithful companion beside him.

I didn’t really know what exactly I would think, or who I would be talking to when we started going downtown and feeding the homeless at the park…it is sort of  something you just start doing.

I do know that a strong impression I get is they really want you to recognize them.  They like if you remember them.  I mean, don’t we all like to be remembered?  Imagine, (well, I remember when) if you are feeling down on yourself, and people don’t even look at you, or acknowledge you, it’s like ‘remember me?’ So, I have been really trying to remember their names, and the pieces of their stories they tell us.  Isn’t that how people know they are important to us, when we remember stuff about them?  We may not always get everything right, but when we put forth the effort, it means something, you know?

I’ve been learning a lot of things from my new friends.  (I’ll try to blog about that some more.)  I’ve just been thinking some though about Bryan’s last words to us.

He had asked for a ride to the interstate  because he thought he wanted to get back to New Mexico.  He talked about how pretty it was.  He talked about some other things, but when we all shook hands, his last words were  to us “God bless you”.

You know, sometimes you think you are helping people in some small ways, and they turn out they are blessing you.  You think you are being God’s hand’s and feet and maybe it’s the other way around sometimes.

Too often the assumption is made that the homeless aren’t “spiritual” or “Christian”.  Well, I’ve had some pretty “spiritual” and insightful conversations with a few individuals.  Oh, they don’t fit that pretty little box that society has for them, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be “Jesus with skin on” too.  Maybe, just maybe their ministry is walking around in that pit of despair helping those who need it.   Don’t tell them to get out of the pit, or tell them how wrong they are, maybe they are supposed to be there helping the others.  Maybe, that’s their purpose.

I am sure there is much more for me to learn from our new friends.  Right now I’m just going to remember the last moments with Bryan.  Remembering him talking with us.  Remembering his eyes.  Remembering him talking and petting his dog.  Remembering his blessing.

Operation Soup and Smokes

A great book to read about homelessness