Adventure

Went on another 'field trip' today. This time to two homeless shelters in the city. The first one was fine. The director was passionate, Baptist, graduate of the seminary, started several programs for people around the country to come live for 3 months to a year and volunteer. They have a 'post office' of sorts, where about 2,500 homeless people have their mail delivered and can pick it up whenever they need. They have programs for families, drug addicts, alcoholics, job training, discipleship. Inspirational but not my cup of tea.
The second place we visited was, in all honesty, what my idea of purgatory would be like. Just the construction of the building, the hospital-ness of it, bare walls and old tile floors. The atmosphere in general - the smell of cigarettes on the people who walked by.
The staff did their best to make the renovated nursing home as home-like as possible for the 650 or more people who slept there every night and thousands more who passed through every day for a hot meal and sack lunch. When we drove up, we had to stand outside for about five minutes while we figured out the parking meters with our guides. Several men stared at us through the ceiling-to-floor length windows in the dining hall. I was glad we had arrived in a pack.
I hate being stared at. I sort of get used to it whenever I'm overseas. But when one is overseas, one simply gets used to things that are not required to be used to when one is at home. I especially don't like being stared at by huge men who have more tattoos than I have freckles and look like they brush their teeth with the cigarettes they smoke. It didn't help any that I had planned on grabbing lunch in the coffee shop before class but when I got there discovered I hadn't given myself enough time, had two minutes to run across campus and anyway the line for food was out the door and into the hallway. I always face heathens and Spiritual Warfare better on a full stomach.
We walked into the building and the stares continued. Our 'tour guide' explained that they had a beauty salon for their visitors to have haircuts, which was especially nice for the women. They a had a 'library,' where books were donated and anyone could take them or return them as they saw fit. I saw "A man called Peter" on one of the shelves and smiled. I haven't read it, but I want to, and I saw the movie version of it as a kid. I liked it.
We moved on through the kitchen into the dining hall. It was empty at this point. Several men from the kitchen called out friendly greetings and we responded cheerfully. I listened but was also wondering why on earth I felt happier and safer in a Gypsy village where the people lived exactly like those in this homeless shelter if not worse. I suppose it might have had something to do with the fact that the Gypsy village is surrounded by green nature, rolling hills, sheep and roaming horses and this homeless shelter was surrounded by horrible broken concrete, dilapidated buildings and wandering people with no light in their eyes.
Upstairs we were shown the mens dormitory. The walls were painted a sort of pastel hospital green. Do you ever get the feeling that you are surrounded by germs? I felt like that, and tried to not touch anything. I felt very very snobby, and hoped it didn't show on my face.
The third floor was for physically or mentally handicapped persons who had proven that they would be responsible if given a place to stay but needed help getting affordable safe housing. We then went and sat down in a conference room that was hot and humid. Outside I could see the freeway and once again wished to be out of the inner city.
After class was done we filed out. I breathed deep breaths of glorious outside air once we left the building.
When I was in Europe this last summer, I would get so frustrated when I would hear my friends commend me for my desire to do Gypsy ministry but always end it with, "But I could never do it." It frustrated me that they were fine with me doing ministry in an area they recognized needed it, yet didn't see any need to join in it. However, I found myself feeling something similar to that homeless ministry: I was so thankful there were people passionate about that ministry who were doing work that needed to be done. If the Lord called me to do it, I would, and gladly, but don't feel that He has called me there at this point in my life. It demonstrated once again how the Lord grants each of us different gifts and callings. Its not wrong for us to not desire someone else's calling, as long as we are mindful of our own and are fulfilling it.
As horrible a picture as I may be painting, I was very glad for the field trip and for seeing a different sort of ministry than perhaps I have been used to. How easy it is in our safe 'God bubble" of Bible College to forget that there is a dying world just off our campus that needs saved. Not that we forget, exactly, that it's there, but the urgency is perhaps glossed over in our thoughts as we prepare for exams and write our papers.
Anyway I've been praying for the Lord to give me an opportunity to start teaching again, preferably in a ministry setting. I have no idea where or what that will look like at this point, its still just in the prayer stage. I'd prefer in a more volunteer setting with kids who want to be there, as opposed to a tutoring position like I had before where it was a constant battle to get the kids from good christian homes and safe environments to realize the gift God was giving them through an opportunity to be educated.
My dad pointed out last night that we think pain and difficulty are things to be avoided, but they can be very good things. No, he's not a masochist, although some might accuse him of it. But we were discussing how God teaches and refines through tough experiences. I like the result just not the process, but am finding joy in the process too. For example, fasting is rough, but that first meal when breaking the fast... *sigh of euphoria* you realize just how wonderful healthy food is. And you don't want junk food, just good healthy food. Its a wonderful feeling.

Well, I confess, a big part of my writing this is procrastination on writing my response paper to last week's field trip, which is due by midnight tonight. So I shall cease my ramblings and musings for this entry and get back to school work. Good grief. Was I griping earlier about kids who grew up in good Christian homes not appreciating the opportunity to be educated? I stand self-condemned: my attitude towards homework has been pitiful, pathetic, somewhat apathetic, and in sore need of correction. I'm getting it done, but not doing it as unto the Lord. Now see that's another topic for ranting: realizing that change must occur, praying for change to continue, but trusting the Lord to do the change and not striving to do it myself. Its a fine balance because once again, realizing that change must take place is important, recognizing opportunities to act on that change are important, but I also must not obsess about undertaking that change in my own strength. Hang it all. I vote we skip this whole fallible human thing with all the humdrum of making mistakes, and just go straight to being perfected creatures already.
Ha! I effectively procrastinated another five minutes.
But, as Mary Poppins says, enough is as good as a feast. And that is enough of procrastination.
Cheers,

~Princess Ouch~