Three6ix5ive's Blog
Three-hundred sixty-five days. One at a time.Archive for St. John’s
Day 84:Faith V Aneurysm
Working at the Outreach Center has been quite the adventure so far. I’ve had both my share of quiet nothing days where the phone rings a handful of times. I’ve also had my share of days where I feel like I could you 10 hands and an army of eighty just to keep the place covered.
It’s hard to describe an average day here. That’s not to say that there aren’t a few standby tasks that always need to be done or that there’s no protocol for daily life at St.John’s. But the average day always has one big anomaly in it somewhere. Wrenches get thrown in the works left and right. Once we start getting a handle on some of the problems in Lockport, we adopt Niagara Falls, and then Medina, and then Buffalo. Once there’s food enough to feed the people here, we inevitably inherit more members to the pantry. Service at St. John’s isn’t cozy. It always seems like we’re just a few steps behind being able to pacify a problem (from where I’m standing anyway).
What I see though is that things really do work out for the best. That whole “God provides” business is present here. I’ve always had the philosophy that “Everything works out in the end and if it hasn’t worked out, it’s not the end.” I believe it, but I have differing levels of comfort with the philosophy when things aren’t working out so well and when things are running smoothly.
This past week was a rough one for me. I had some trouble with one of the volunteers treating a client pretty rudely, our resources were not anywhere close to meeting our needs, we were just beginning to take a tidal wave of clients from Buffalo, and it seemed the news I was able to give to clients was never good enough to put them at any sort of ease… and there was rain. Yes create the melodramatic scene in your mind:
It’s a Wednesday evening. I’m driving home at 5:30. I missed the bus that morning because I couldn’t find my keys so I had to drive. I’m leaving work late because I’ve been working with a client who drove out from Buffalo and had to do some detective work to find her items. The day’s not been the best and now I’m a part of rush hour traffic under some mild rain after a lovely 4:30 pm sunset.
I did everything I could to cheer myself up on the long drive home. I blasted my favorite songs. I made wishes at all the green lights. I listened to the sound of the rain and meditated as much as I could with my eyes on the road. I wasn’t less perturbed or stressed when I got home, but I was much calmer.
What I realize my choice comes down to when I just don’t feel like I can handle or coordinate or manage the problems of the people we serve at the outreach center is “Faith or an Aneurysm”.
It’s pretty simple really. At some point all my worrying is just unproductive. And perhaps I might feel guilty for not being worried enough or concerned enough about something, but my worry won’t put food in anyone’s mouth. At the point when my concern for other people’s problems becomes fruitless, I have to step back, have faith and do the best I can.
On one hand I can choose to have some faith. On the other, a blood vessel in my brain slowly becomes inflamed until it bursts… that choice is easy.
Out.
-Gloria
Ps. If someone wants to tell me what really happens when you have an aneurysm that’d be great too.
Day 17 : The Privilege of Privacy *rewind*
Thinking about some of my encounters at the outreach center. I wrote this journal entry the other day. Enjoy, it’s like you’re reading my diary!!!
“… So I realize some things better from seeing them. Though I am not immersed in the plight of the impoverished, I catch glimpses of it. I get vignettes in my office and on the phone. And at times I wear [eyes that make my world look] different…
“Privacy, I’m learning, is saved for the privileged. When you are poor, you have to walk through a door with your arms open to ask for whatever can be given to you… Name, number, address. Okay I’ve gotten asked as much at checkout in a local beauty store. But I find myself getting the whole story when I pick up the phone. ‘This is what I think I need. This is why I’m calling. This is why I need it and here’s why I can’t get it myself. Naked. Before I even know your name.
“I was surprised at the frequency with which I received class like this. ‘No one asked for your life story.’ Except someone probably has. And someone after them. And another one after her too. Being in need usually means you have to prove it to get aid. Some people are strong enough for the process not to alter their view of their own worth. I’m not.
“I guess the world we live in requires that we prove the need exists before we can address it. I think I ‘d like to address the person before me instead. I don’t need any proof that they exist.”
-G- 9.02.09
I find it amazing how my supervisor here thinks we can really help anyone. He nods his head and says yes to everyone who walks through our door. He doesn’t ask for proof or look with judging eyes. anyone we can’t help here he sends them or takes them to a place where they can be helped. I really admire his benevolence, but it’s frustrating too when it’s my job to facilitate some of that help, because sometimes, I just don’t see how it can logistically work. I’ve met a lot of people who think everyone can be helped, I’m there. But Jim is really good of helping regardless and in a wholly for the person. This whole center is pretty good with that.
I get these calls from people and what they need is some help because maybe they lost their job or got a divorce or where kicked out of a home or were recently released from jail etc etc… But people sometimes have to make themselves so vulnerable and I hear a lot about the bad choices people made, the inadequacies they think they have, the fears going on in their heads, the pride keeping them from something better, and just every private thing that people like to hold onto for themselves. I was thinking, damn, I share this kind of stuff with good friends only after I feel I can trust them, or on the occasion that I just feel like being really open, but right now I’m a voice on a phone, and this has got to be a little scary.
I’ve been lucky not to need to ask for help in a major way in my life. I kinda don’t like doing it at times. It’s curious to think of having to do it all the time. Not to ask a favor or whatnot of a friend, but to ask for mercy from others, that’s risky business.
