bursts of self knowledge

I feel like I have made some significant progress in learning about myself lately, namely through my time in Houston. It is through learning who I am not that I am discovering who I am. I've addressed the whole "who I am" thing in regards to negative Pro-Lifer stereotypes, but within the Pro-Life community I am discovering my role and my skills and my values.

Role: I don't feel like I am meant to ever dedicate my career to full time Pro-Life work in a Pro-Life organization, but of course I will "be" Pro-Life in whatever I end up doing (I mean, duh). Right now, I think my role is to lead Bobcats for Life for another semester, or maybe 2. I really feel like I need to pass that role off to someone else... fast.

Skills: I don't think I have skills that are compatible for a 9-5 staring-at-a-computer-screen job. As a, God willing, future social worker, I need people and interaction to get through the day. I think I could work on a macro level for some time, but I don't think that would be the best fit for me... at least for the near future. The things that are fun for me are writing, talking, taking pictures, Tweeting, using social media, planning (turtle races, anyone?), talking to moms, playing with babies, and anything right brained, really.

right click for link to source. Love this picture.

Values: Everyday, a new comment or thought or piece of hate reminds me that I am, by no means, a republican. I don't know if I'm a democrat or whatever. I know that I am pro-life. I know that when I see a homeless person sitting outside McDonald's, I want to buy them food and I don't want them to pay me back- even if they are an alcoholic or a drug addict; there is no means test to get a Big Mac from Sarah Ryan. I know that when a family in Mexico feels scared because their neighborhood is overrun by drug cartel and they want to come to America, I want them here and I hope they are my neighbor. I know that when a friend of mine had a terrible health crisis and I took her to the hospital, the fact that she was uninsured was the last obstacle she needed to face at that time and it broke my heart to think that she may have to suffer because of the uninsured family situation she was born into. I don't say "blacks" when I talk about African Americans. If you say something or someone is "retarded," I will call you out on your ignorance; if I thought you were ignorant before the comment, I will call you out and also potentially humiliate you (sorry I'm not sorry! and this method of calling out/humiliation also applies to the *cussword* who, after OKC beat the Spurs, said "I hope OKC gets bombed again." You're an embarrassment to humans.). I believe in social justice, so call me a "communist" or "marxist" if you want (or if you are cray cray), but I don't really care, because at the end of the day- being a decent and kind communist would be better than being a heartless, racist conservative- as seen here.

It's funny to watch myself evolve, or rather, to unlock parts of my heart or conscience that I wasn't aware of before, or maybe I just wasn't aware of the depth of that part of my heart. That is the experience I've had with my empathy for the homeless; I always knew I cared like any not crappy human would, but I'm realizing how special that population is to me. Don't know why though.

Well, that's enough reflection, or rather introspection, for the day!

toughen up

band aid for my soul?

I have not been feeling super awesome lately so I decided to venture out this evening to look for cheesecake because everyone knows that the best way to deal with your problems is to cover them in chocolate sauce or anything ending in "-cake." Yeah, turns out that theory is false.

Ended up in a shady little- emphasis on the word little - restaurant and ordered my cheesecake and chicken fingers (I'm like 5 years old) and while I waited for the food, the guy at the counter struck up conversation with me. We started with the weather, told him I'm from TX & here with the Nat'l Right to Life Academy, and then I opened a great can of emotional worms.
Side note: if you are a visual person, the man at the restaurant looked a lot like Tom McGowan who plays Ray's friend Bernie on "Everybody Loves Raymond." 

me: You know, I've been really shocked by the number of homeless people in D.C.
man: Oh, well they choose to be homeless, you know. I've been workin' here about 20 years and see the same people in the same places. They aren't out there trying to get jobs, but they're doing just fine for themselves.

He went on to tell me stories about homeless folks who have turned out to be frauds or have been found sleeping with huge rolls of cash in their hands and other shady stories. I'm not naive enough to think that everyone in the world is honest or that everyone living on the streets is truly in a desperate state of need, but I tend to try to give them the benefit of the doubt... but I hate finding out the sad & messed up stories. Sometimes I like to pretend that everyone is good and nice and stuff... but I'm not ignorant enough to believe it, just too emotionally exhausted to dwell on the bad things all the time. So, even after I got my food we kept chatting...

me: I've just gotten really upset lately having to see all the people on the streets, regardless of who is truly needy and who is scamming.
man: you know what, after living in the city for a while you just gotta learn to look the other way.

I HATE THAT, OKAY! I really didn't like that! This man honestly was pretty nice and seemed like he had good intentions, but, I'm sorry, looking the other way isn't going to make anyone's problems go away, sir. I just really thought that was a sad sentiment.

me: well, I'd rather be gypped by 5 people and help 1 person than not help anyone at all... ya know... it just makes me really sad lately having to pass them everywhere and not know what to do.
man: I know you're from Texas and you've got Christ on the front of your shirt, but you've gotta toughen up.

feeling so happy, omgah

I left pretty soon after that. As I walked away, the man yelled "Toughen up! You'll be fine!" but that didn't really offer me much comfort. I enjoyed the conversation, but it did leave me feeling kind of crappy and really sad. The man had some valid points and made me face some things that suck, but I probably needed to hear them. However, that doesn't mean I'm going to look the other way all the time. I've been talking to the other girls in the Academy about this a lot lately and we've all been pretty frustrated with knowing when to give to the "homeless" (I really hate using quotes on that...). It's so hard because you pass by them and you have like this tiny window to make this huge judgment and assessment of this person's life, situation, need, and the extent of their need.

where my dinner ended up.

Also, after weeks of speculation about a lady who begs in the metro station, we have "cracked that case" and know she is scamming. It's a long story, but the girls and I have been keeping track of all of our sightings of this woman and her accomplices and we've figured out that they are gypping people... honestly, like, I think they might be gypsies. Not sure if that is a politically correct thing to say or not, but it is what it is.

I wish people would just be real because the scammers out there are only further hurting those who are truly hurting already by causing skepticism towards people on the streets. I should probably stop thinking about this because it's making me frustrated even more.

Oh and to top it all off... the food from the restaurant was not enjoyable... not even the cheesecake.

James

"Today it is very fashionable to talk about the poor. Unfortunately, it is not fashionable to talk with them."

-Blessed Mother Teresa 

James.

He sits on the curb on the way to the grocery store. I met him when it was raining though I'd passed him before. Turns out he used to struggle with alcohol and substance abuse problems and went to prison but now he is clean and trying to find work. He's moved around from D.C. to North Carolina and back, but now he's struggling because social services have his records mixed up and the man he needs to talk to about it is on vacation for another week. Really nice man with beautiful blue eyes. He talked about getting clean and how you have to get clean before you can expect to do anything else. Now, he's living on the streets and looking for a job and trying to make it by utilizing the showers in shelters, asking for spare change on the streets to buy clean socks & underwear etc, and waiting to hear back from social services. I asked him if he wanted any groceries and he seemed surprised, "Sure, I'll take anything, maybe a sandwich or something" and later when I brought him the sandwich and some fruits he seemed surprised that I had returned. When I walked up to him with the food he called out Hey there, Sarah! as if he were greeting an old friend. I loved that.

I hated that I passed James by the first 2 times I saw him and that it took a third time to actually stop and look into his eyes and see his humanity, his heart. This city, this world is so fast paced that sometimes I don't even know how I end up where I end up because it's all such a rush. I can't help but wonder who else I have passed or what other opportunities to learn from others or to share what I have with others or chances to feed the hungry with a granola bar (chewy bars=nom nom nom) I have in my purse or just listen to someone who needs to be heard, like, how many of those opportunities have I sped past in order to beat the line at Starbucks (veinte iced white mocha lite ice no whip half pump = sigh) or to get back to the dorm to take a nap? I don't know why the homeless & impoverished are on my mind and heart so much lately, (other than the fact that I've seen more in the past few weeks than I have in my whole life...) but I just want to do something about it and it sucks that I can't get them all sandwiches... and assistance... and employment opportunities... and access to healthcare... and homes.

Another note: One thing that breaks my heart is when I feel like I am being scammed. Another day I will write about the 2 women whose authenticity I really want to believe in... but I can't. I've talked to them multiple times and asked questions and just circumstances and different factors considered... it doesn't add up. I hate that there are scammers out there because approaching strangers is a big step for some in and of itself, let alone having to judge a person's genuine need for charity in the brief window of time you have with them. I hope very much that those 2 women are sincere, or that they are being insincere about their poverty and that they are actually doing well- but I wish that, if the latter were the case, they would stop what they're doing. When I meet people who live on the streets I like to ask them questions to get an idea of where they're coming from, what their heart's context is, and get an idea of their sincerity or openness and maybe I'm naive to trust the stories of some of these people I have met, but I feel like I'm being careful with what I believe. So far I haven't encountered anyone that sent up a fishy flag except those 2 women... and a banjo player... but that's another story. Just a disclaimer that I'm not just blindly believing everything and I'm aware that people lie. I don't know why I felt like adding this.

parallels

I've never realized how much of a connection there is from abortion to homelessness to civil rights to end of life treatment and other issues. It all comes down to value of a life... and my eyes are being opened more and more everyday. 

homelessness shouldn't be hopelessness

I'm saddened by the number of homeless people I've seen here in D.C. and I wish I understood more about homelessness. 


I try to talk to the people who, I assume, are homeless that ask for money and just kind of see where they're coming from and today I had a really sad conversation with a man. I'm trying to understand that there is a good chance that he had some kind of mental illness and that is why he holds the opinions that he shared, but it's just really sad and upsetting to not know how to help. According to the National Coalition for the Homeless, "around 20-25% of single adult homeless people suffer from some form of severe and persistent mental illness" which is a really high number, especially since it is probably (I'm just guessing) really difficult for them to get treatment or understand that they are in need of treatment.


I've been doing some Googleing since I had the sad encounter with the man earlier and these are some interesting facts I have found:


From www.defeatpoverty.com:

• nearly 1 in 5 DC residents live in poverty
• 1 in 3 children in DC live in poverty- much higher than the national average
• 1 in 5 workers in DC has a job that won't lift a family of four out of poverty

A study done in the UK yielded this conclusion: "Our homeless sample displayed relatively low IQ with high levels of neurobehavioural impairment. Our evidence suggests that these neuropsychological factors may, in part, constitute a long-term consequence of childhood trauma."

which, in all of my vast 20 year old scientific wisdom, take to mean that many homeless people are just sad kids that never really experienced much love. I wish there was this great surplus of volunteer mental health professionals that could just wander the streets and counsel all these people who probably have so much hurt in their lives.

Back to the story about the man I met earlier. It was a frustrating conversation. He was playing banjo when my friend and I approched but once we engaged him in conversation he quit playing the sweet song and started spouting out bitterness and angry things. Granted, were I homeless I would most likely be bitter and angry also, but he just really was hurting and mad; the fact that Hannah and I were nice girls who stopped to see how he was doing and potentially try to help him out didn't seem to cross his mind as an opportunity to take advantage of. 

Being an aspiring social worker ("aspiring" makes the career sound glamorous or something) I asked the man I met near the metro station earlier whether he had considered talking with a social worker. He proceeded to tell me that social work is "a load of bull***t" and that "social workers don't do nothing." I told him I was studying social work and we'd actually learned about different ways the social work profession can help the homeless but he cut me off and basically told me that I didn't know what I was talking about. I understand that he may feel that way and may be justified in that opinion because it is very likely that he had a negative experience with a "bad" social worker, I don't know the circumstances, but it was frustrating to hear his complaints.

He was upset that he couldn't get a job because he is homeless, but he doesn't want to go to a shelter because he doesn't like being around all those people.
He can't get an apartment because he doesn't have a job, but he doesn't want to stay in a homeless shelter because it has as many rules as prison and he hates the ministries that give him meals and wash his clothes for him because that isn't stable enough for him.
He doesn't want the help of a social worker or any sort of federal assistance program because he had 1 bad experience with that, but he has no means to even start getting on his feet.
He doesn't want any help from anyone and claims "he is doing just fine on his own," but he was venting about how unfair life was that the government isn't taking care of him.
He wouldn't admit he needed help, but when he hinted at it he blamed the situation on not getting enough assistance.

It was just really sad and I can see why he would be so angry, but I couldn't think of anything to say to him or any sort of words that would inspire him to keep trying. He was using really foul language with us and admitted to "being in a violent mood" when a government worker didn't meet his needs regarding a federal assistance program, so we left as soon as he was done venting and we realized that it really didn't matter what we had to say because his pride had already made an appearance and he would be unable to talk with us at a civil level.

The only word I can think of is sad which is pathetic word choice, but it broke my heart to have to leave him. He, regardless of his reasoning or experiences that may have led him to this unhappy mood, was really mean to us and I have to wonder how many people actually stop and talk to him and how long it takes people who aren't patient and willing to listen to walk away. THEN the sympathetic and compassionate voice in my head reminds me of the statistics on homelessness and poverty/mental illness and I feel bad for being so judgmental about his attitude. 

I wish there was something I could do besides give them money, which I don't do. I offered 2 homeless folks food yesterday and they both were really picky when I said granola bar and cashews and they said "no" and then looked to the next person to give them money.

I'm trying to help people and I'm trying to have faith in people and I'm trying to love and serve, but it's hard when people don't want to receive the assistance and help, no matter how tiny it is. Sigh!

"Give something, however small, to the one in need. For it is not small to one who has nothing. Neither is it small to God, if we have given what we could." -St. Gregory Nazianzen

sad tears, happy tears

Today I got myself together a little bit from yesterday's travels and I am finally feeling settled into this place! The weather today was overcast which was AWESOME after the past few months of Texas heat.

I met my friend Stephanie for dinner this evening, but on my way to meet her I made a quick stop at a church I have grown to love during visits to DC in the past. The last time I was there was in January when I was in town for the March for Life. I met a homeless man, Chris, on the steps of the cathedral and had a really great conversation with him over some oatmeal. I wrote a lot about the story here after it happened if you are interested in the whole story. I wrote Chris a letter once, through a Priest at the church, and sent him a Rosary which was "much appreciated" by Chris according to email correspondence with the Priest. I had been hoping I might get to see Chris this summer but I wondered whether his declining health had claimed his life. I'd prayed for Chris ever since and hoped to see him again just to check in on him.

When I got to the church there was no sign of him. I went inside and searched for a Priest or administrator or anyone that may know anything but I was greeted with an unwillingness to help and treated as an annoyance by the 3 men I found in the Sacristy preparing for Mass. I was really hurt by that so I started crying (if this was Twitter I would add #typical #pathetic #cryinginpublic #lame). I walked out of the church really upset, both by Chris' absence and what that might mean and by the callousness of these "holy men." Some younger men were sitting where Chris once sat and they called out a hello to me and I responded (#ireallyneedtoquittalkingtostrangers #nolectureneededmom) and started crying even more. I then asked if they knew a man named Chris to which one man replied, "Oh yeah, honey, Chris with the cain? Why? You know him?" and I told him that I'd met him and had been worried about him... of course talking about it made me cry harder #beingemotionalsucks. The man, who later introduced himself as Wendall, then said "Don't cry with your pretty angel eyes! Chris is fine! He got himself a kidney or a liver, I can't remember which one of 'em it was!" and I started WEEPING on the street with 3 men who had "hit some hard times a while back" according to Wendall's very brief autobiography. He hugged me and told me that "Chris doin' alright" and that he'd be around the church some point in the week.

A few minutes earlier I was crying because of the lack of Christlike representation inside the church and NOW I was sobbing as Wendall said "the Lord sent him what he needed!" It was such a special moment!!! I said bye to Wendall and walked away still crying but SMILING!!!

I realize that I may be somewhat naive to assume authenticity of Chris' initial story and of Wendall's update on Chris, but I don't care. I really feel that I saw into Chris' heart when I met him and I really believe that Wendall knew what he was talking about.

I hope to bump into Chris outside the church at some point this summer and see what the rest of his story is like.

Peace begins with a smile: My friend Chris

I got back yesterday from my trip to DC for the March to Life. I didn't think so much hope could be restored in such a short amount of time. Over the few years of Pro-Life involvements I have been to my fair share of rallies & marches, but nothing compared to this past weekend.

St. Matthew's Cathedral

We did a lot of things during our trip and each of them, whether directly related to the Pro-Life movement, guided me to a feeling of comfort and hope. Saturday, my friend and I did a little bit of sightseeing. We planned to go to the Smithsonian but first we got coffee and headed over to St. Matthew's Cathedral. St. Matthew's is one of the churches I went to for daily Mass when I was in DC this past summer and it just has such a way to make you feel at home upon entering. When we got there, however, we were late for Mass. Outside the church was a homeless man asking for money. I asked if I could buy him lunch instead and so we went and got food for him and another man nearby and when we brought it back I asked the man if we could hang out with him while he ate. He answered, "well of course, darlin!"

Friday night before I went to bed I went into the chapel of the church we were staying in and invited the Holy Spirit into my heart. Saturday morning when I woke up I asked for a miracle or some form of spiritual blessing from God. After our time with my new friend, I don't doubt that God heard my prayers.



lit a candle for Chris

We sat down and began conversation with him and he was incredibly kind and charming. His wrinkled skin, weary eyes, and thin, patchy gray facial hair told me that he'd been having a rough time. His name was Chris. 12 years ago Chris beat kidney cancer- something he considers a miracle only God could've been capable of. Now, Chris only has one kidney and it is barely operational. Honestly, I was skeptical at first when he told us his story. He mentioned he was on dialysis before I went to get him food so I thought it must just be a way for him to try to get sympathy. However, the more into conversation we got with Chris the more I could see the honesty in his eyes. Chris, a 57 year old graduate of Catholic University of America, had won me over. This kindhearted man sitting on the steps in front of this beautiful Cathedral was battling some painful and exhausting medical conditions (he'd passed out the day before while undergoing his dialysis treatment) yet still, he was planning to attend the 5:00 Mass later that afternoon. He'd actually been confirmed in that very church nearly 4 decades earlier- just after he attended MLK's March on Washington. "I never thought I'd see the day but I surely did," he told us. His eyes had seen so much growing up and living in DC. I couldn't help but wonder how this man who'd received a good Catholic high school education and graduated from college with a promising degree had ended up outside asking for donations in freezing weather. After a while of talking we said goodbye to Chris but before that we joined hands and prayed together.

Mother Teresa & me at the Basilica

 When I walked inside the church I was in awe of God and how he chose to answer my prayer. Chris was the miracle He sent me. So often have I just walked past homeless people on the streets without really thinking about what life must be like for them. Often people tend to stereotype homeless men & women as alcoholics, and honestly I am one of those people to jump to conclusions sometimes because sometimes that is the sad truth, but this small encounter with Chris was like an encounter with Christ. When we prayed we all made the Sign of the Cross and when we asked for Mary's intercession we spoke the same words and in Chris' voice I heard true faith & sincerity. We really aren't that different at all. The only differences are that Chris hit a strand of "bad luck" and his faith can endure desperate times. I honestly don't know if I would speak of God as being merciful and loving after being through all he'd been through- even though I know that He is. His faith endures and that amazes me. In St. Matthew's I nearly cried while I prayed for Chris' healing and for restored connections with his family and for him to get back on his feet and sleep in a warm bed again. I bought Chris oatmeal but he gave me a smile and, as Mother Teresa said, peace begins with a smile. Chris gave me just the peace I needed. No matter what one's circumstances may be, where there is Life there is hope.

Being Pro-Life isn't just about loving babies. Being Pro-Life is about respecting all life- from conception until natural death and that is what we, as Christians, as believers, as non-believers, as human beings are called to do. I don't know anyone who understood this sentiment better than Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta. I admire her not because I am Catholic, although it does deepen my admiration of her in many respects, but simply as a kindhearted human being she took care of those who were forgotten by others. I think of what an impact this tiny little nun had on the world and have to wonder- what if there had been two Mother Teresas? What if there had been three? What if we all tried for one moment every day to love one another as she loved the most impoverished of people? What a world it would be.

Statue of Mother Teresa
at St. Matthew's Cathedral

"When a poor person dies of hunger, it has not happened because God did not take care of him or her. It has happened because neither you nor I wanted to give that person what he or she needed." -Mother Teresa

I asked Chris if I could write to him somehow and he told me that the Monsignor at the Cathedral has helped him out a lot so I can direct mail to the Cathedral and they'll give it to him. Although I doubt I'll ever get any replies to any letters, I am looking forward to sending him a Rosary I got on a mission trip to New Orleans a few years ago. Not sure why but I really want him to have it.

It's crazy who and what God uses to wake me up and teach me how to love.