Have you ever been in the position where there is something you've always wanted to do, but you keep telling yourself you'll do it when you get older? We've all been there... waiting to become the person we want to be. Waiting until something--that elusive event or age or social status--happens to us. Well, tonight, in some small way, I made a step toward becoming that person. And let me tell you, it was amazing. Here's the story...
Anyone who knows me decently well knows that I want to start a homeless clinic when I become a doctor, and that I have dedicated my life to building relationships with homeless individuals and being their advocate to the general public. While I've taken steps toward learning how to start, run, and participate in a free clinic, I haven't made much headway in the whole relationships area. Yeah, I've met medical needs and done the occasional shelter meal, but that hardly counts. Recently, I started going to a new church, Mosaic, which I love because it makes urban ministry a priority. It is connected to a houseless ministry called Avail, which I have known about for several months but recently felt extremely convicted for not volunteering with them. But tonight was the night. And it was fun. And it changed my life forever.
Camp #1: Under an overpass on the Northside of Birmingham. We met 3 people-- we'll call them George, Andy, and Bob (of course, names have been changed to protect the people). We cooked a meal and shared it with them... the six of us volunteers with the three of them, all eating chili dogs and cheese puffs together. I learned that Bob has been houseless for quite some time, down on his luck and just can't seem to break the cycle. He used drugs in the past but doesn't now (which I fully believe). Talking to me, he became emotional-- he hasn't opened up to anyone like this in years and, embarrassed to cry in front of a girl, he runs off. Andy and George travel together. They are staying under the overpass and saving up money to get an apartment together. They've found one that costs $195 a month, and a social worker is helping them move in. George is from Milwaukee, while Andy is from Birmingham. Andy is turning 60 in a few months, and she has been in Birmingham her whole life. She was even in 16th Street baptist church the morning it was bombed, and she knew the four kids who were killed. She lives on the streets because she moved in with her mother to take care of her, but her mother, sister, and father all died within the span of a few months, leaving her with an unfinished college degree and nowhere to live. She spends her days at the library reading mystery novels, and she loves poetry and plays. She and George can't wait to join our Bible study next week and ask us to pray before we head out. Beautiful.
Camp #2: Across the train tracks, also on Northside. This was a bigger camp-- a community of sorts, where everyone knew each other and they all had a role to play in society. We ate with them as well-- more chili dogs-- and I met a few more people. Among them were Annie and James, and also Gavin (again, names have been changed for protection). Annie and James were a couple who lived in Oak Grove before moving to this camp. They were in their basement when the April tornadoes hit last year, and they lost everything. Annie has two kids, both grown, and one granddaughter. They are all housed and she gets to see them occasionally. She is already saving money to get her granddaughter a Justin Bieber backpack for Christmas. She is the only woman, hanging out with a bunch of guys, and as I am leaving she begs me to come back next week. Gavin went through a recovery program and graduated not long ago as a "success" of the program. He is now back on the streets, not having the resources he needed to maintain the lifestyle he'd been taught about. He also begs me to come back next week. And of course, I will. Because this experience was beautiful.
We packed up and headed back to the car. We had to jump a train that had stopped on the tracks, blocking our way. It was scary, but exhilarating! As I jumped down from the train car and ran across the tracks, I began to reflect on the night. To think about what my parents would think, and how I would be back next week no matter what anyone would think. To begin to understand the hearts of a misunderstood people group firsthand, and experience the healing that comes from loving someone despite what their past has beheld--maybe even more so because of what their past has beheld. Thank you, Avail, for pushing me over the tracks and into the person I have dreamed of becoming.
Until next time,
Jessi
