thinking about it all, it just doesn't make sense.
this thing i call grace.
how come it is, it wasn't until i wasn't trying, that i was healed? does that say something to my creator? does that scream an obvious observation wrapping upon my head like a judge with his hammer upong the table? i would like to make sense of it. oh, i would.
"life is good," is something you may hear me say. It's something carved like ancient glyphics in the cave of my soul. It's something i'll say, even if i hate life. Why does that seem so unfitting?
i just don't know.
i just don't know...
"One who has nothing, has nothing to lose." An old proverb skimmed over in a tiny, red booklet. Somewhere, i see an answer. i may refuse to acknowledge it. i may decide to let it boggle my mind in the worst. i may just let it be a part of me and see where that leads.
yeah, that sounds good.
letting it be what it is, and seeing where it goes...
hmmm... i'm thinking... but then again, headaches really don't have a part in understanding God.
Finger twitching, head itchy, and eyelids tired. What has everything come to on this night of dew-covered grass and open, velvet skies? i don't know a lot, but i do know one thing.
i do know one thing.
shalom.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Barbie and Smiles
Now listening to: KJ52
It's well past 3 am. Almost 4. i figure i might as well clean up the crib a lil' bit. Fill up the sink with hot, sudsy water and scrub the pile of dishes with growths that a mirco-biologist would have a blast with. Finish up, and swipe the vacuum and clean caddy out of a closet big enough to sleep four. Head back up stairs and suck the lint, dust, and dirt off the vintage carpet. Push, pull, push, pull... Grab the crisp, white paper towels, a bottle of glass cleaner, and go to work. The front door screams for some hygienal attention. As i start scrubbing, i notice two figures on the other side of the class approaching me from the shadows of the street. My instintive fear tells me, "they're gonna ask you to let them in the building." I can't do that. I should, but i'm not allowed. One of the figures waves. I look up and blink, staring intently. It's Smiles and Barbie.
I open the door and swipe the other side of the door with fresh smelling glass cleaner. "What's up guys? How yall been?"
"Fine, just getting ready to sleep."
"Oh cool." Barbie and Smiles started sleeping in the little cave, that the front of the building makes, about a month and a half ago. Zeb and i noticed, knew that we were supposed to tell them to sleep somewhere else, and just ignored that resposibility. It was Zeb's courage that finally moved us to talk to them. Zeb got them some blankets, we traded names, and chatted very briefly. They were gone that night. Zeb ran into them in the city and bought them McDonalds. He told me about how they got here from the east coast on an offer to room with someone else, but got kicked out. Now, on the streets. Stuff gone. Just a rolley suitcase and a couple duffle bags. Sleeping wherever they won't get yelled by the cops.
Smiles is just that-- all smiles. I can't see why Barbie has her name. She doesn't seem to be made of plastic or ditsy or bleach blonde. Maybe she has friend named Ken.
We start chatting about life and about the streets. Smiles looks at me with a mischievious grin. "You got any clothes you're getting rid of?"
"Actually i do." I'm surprised by his inquiry, because i was planning on leaving some of my clothes here-- lighten my baggage for the flight home. i tell them how i'm leaving for Indiana tomorrow and how Zeb is gone for the next couple of weeks. They ask why. i inform them about the groups, or lack there of.
"You probably have some food that's gonna go bad too," Smiles says almost in a form of a question.
i smile. "Yeah dude."
i run inside and up the stairs. i grapple a jacket, a zip-up sweater, two tees, and a sleeping bag. Proceed to sprint to the other side of the building, fill up a water bottle (that they had), drop three apples, three oranges, a bottle of soy milk, a package of turkey, a can of peanut butter, a couple hygiene kits that a previous group made, two partially-full bags of cereal, and bag them up in a couple grocery sacks.
As i come outside, Smiles gives his astonishment with a, "Oh shit man, you went all out."
"Just trying to somebody the love that Christ has given me.
"For real. We appreciate that."
"No problem. No problem at all."
They pack all of things i placed in their hands and start laying blankets in front of the door. "Yeah man, we were sleeping here the other day, and a cop told us we couldn't sleep here because of that sign," as he points to this green piece of paper posted on the inside of the door.
i bend over and disect the legal document. i don't know what all the jargon says, but the couple informs me that it says no one can sleep in this area.
i let them know my digust with a sign like that on a church. i open the door, rip in down, and throw in on the floor. "Hmmm... the wind must of knocked it down. i don't know where any tape is to put it back up." We are smiling.
i sit down as they start eating some of the cereal. i ask them about where they usually sleep, do they get bothered, and where they're originally from. Smiles ask me if i do drugs. "Nah, you?"
"Yeah, herb. We used to crystal method, but we were arguing for no reason, so we stopped that." i ask them about how easy it is to get and it's price. Barbie informs me, "It's expensive. But, not in a money way."
We converse a little more and sit in silence a lot. They probably don't get that much silence. i wonder about them. They can see that i love them. This was why i came to San Francisco-- to become friends with the poor, the homeless, to love the unloved. i am frustrated that i will have to leave tomorrow. Friends don't abandon friends. Zeb will come back. So will more other CSM workers. They will be in good hands.
"Yall need anything else?" i ask. "i'm gonna head to bed."
"Nah. Thanks so much."
"No problem. Don't mention it."
The unheated house is a lot warmer than the street. The t.v. and other material things disgust me for a moment. i flash back to the trolley ride i had the other day. For some random, God inspired, reason, i started thinking about the poor and the rich while i was riding home on the trolley. i almost cried in front of the ignorant public. Not because the wealthy didn't share their things with the homeless, but because of the incompleteness. It was radiating off of everyone i looked at. i could feel everyone crying. We are all incomplete. That is, without God. How do we do more than the social services that just focus on treating people caringly? How do we show people true love? For some reason, i felt like i knew less than i ever did.
But i realized....
This is a good start.
Shalom.
It's well past 3 am. Almost 4. i figure i might as well clean up the crib a lil' bit. Fill up the sink with hot, sudsy water and scrub the pile of dishes with growths that a mirco-biologist would have a blast with. Finish up, and swipe the vacuum and clean caddy out of a closet big enough to sleep four. Head back up stairs and suck the lint, dust, and dirt off the vintage carpet. Push, pull, push, pull... Grab the crisp, white paper towels, a bottle of glass cleaner, and go to work. The front door screams for some hygienal attention. As i start scrubbing, i notice two figures on the other side of the class approaching me from the shadows of the street. My instintive fear tells me, "they're gonna ask you to let them in the building." I can't do that. I should, but i'm not allowed. One of the figures waves. I look up and blink, staring intently. It's Smiles and Barbie.
I open the door and swipe the other side of the door with fresh smelling glass cleaner. "What's up guys? How yall been?"
"Fine, just getting ready to sleep."
"Oh cool." Barbie and Smiles started sleeping in the little cave, that the front of the building makes, about a month and a half ago. Zeb and i noticed, knew that we were supposed to tell them to sleep somewhere else, and just ignored that resposibility. It was Zeb's courage that finally moved us to talk to them. Zeb got them some blankets, we traded names, and chatted very briefly. They were gone that night. Zeb ran into them in the city and bought them McDonalds. He told me about how they got here from the east coast on an offer to room with someone else, but got kicked out. Now, on the streets. Stuff gone. Just a rolley suitcase and a couple duffle bags. Sleeping wherever they won't get yelled by the cops.
Smiles is just that-- all smiles. I can't see why Barbie has her name. She doesn't seem to be made of plastic or ditsy or bleach blonde. Maybe she has friend named Ken.
We start chatting about life and about the streets. Smiles looks at me with a mischievious grin. "You got any clothes you're getting rid of?"
"Actually i do." I'm surprised by his inquiry, because i was planning on leaving some of my clothes here-- lighten my baggage for the flight home. i tell them how i'm leaving for Indiana tomorrow and how Zeb is gone for the next couple of weeks. They ask why. i inform them about the groups, or lack there of.
"You probably have some food that's gonna go bad too," Smiles says almost in a form of a question.
i smile. "Yeah dude."
i run inside and up the stairs. i grapple a jacket, a zip-up sweater, two tees, and a sleeping bag. Proceed to sprint to the other side of the building, fill up a water bottle (that they had), drop three apples, three oranges, a bottle of soy milk, a package of turkey, a can of peanut butter, a couple hygiene kits that a previous group made, two partially-full bags of cereal, and bag them up in a couple grocery sacks.
As i come outside, Smiles gives his astonishment with a, "Oh shit man, you went all out."
"Just trying to somebody the love that Christ has given me.
"For real. We appreciate that."
"No problem. No problem at all."
They pack all of things i placed in their hands and start laying blankets in front of the door. "Yeah man, we were sleeping here the other day, and a cop told us we couldn't sleep here because of that sign," as he points to this green piece of paper posted on the inside of the door.
i bend over and disect the legal document. i don't know what all the jargon says, but the couple informs me that it says no one can sleep in this area.
i let them know my digust with a sign like that on a church. i open the door, rip in down, and throw in on the floor. "Hmmm... the wind must of knocked it down. i don't know where any tape is to put it back up." We are smiling.
i sit down as they start eating some of the cereal. i ask them about where they usually sleep, do they get bothered, and where they're originally from. Smiles ask me if i do drugs. "Nah, you?"
"Yeah, herb. We used to crystal method, but we were arguing for no reason, so we stopped that." i ask them about how easy it is to get and it's price. Barbie informs me, "It's expensive. But, not in a money way."
We converse a little more and sit in silence a lot. They probably don't get that much silence. i wonder about them. They can see that i love them. This was why i came to San Francisco-- to become friends with the poor, the homeless, to love the unloved. i am frustrated that i will have to leave tomorrow. Friends don't abandon friends. Zeb will come back. So will more other CSM workers. They will be in good hands.
"Yall need anything else?" i ask. "i'm gonna head to bed."
"Nah. Thanks so much."
"No problem. Don't mention it."
The unheated house is a lot warmer than the street. The t.v. and other material things disgust me for a moment. i flash back to the trolley ride i had the other day. For some random, God inspired, reason, i started thinking about the poor and the rich while i was riding home on the trolley. i almost cried in front of the ignorant public. Not because the wealthy didn't share their things with the homeless, but because of the incompleteness. It was radiating off of everyone i looked at. i could feel everyone crying. We are all incomplete. That is, without God. How do we do more than the social services that just focus on treating people caringly? How do we show people true love? For some reason, i felt like i knew less than i ever did.
But i realized....
This is a good start.
Shalom.
Monday, May 01, 2006
I pray.
No, no, no, I don't have a job.
Yes, yes, yes, my life is all lost.
But that's when these hairs criss,
then then I come to the cross.
I pray.
Some, some, some, I try to fill me up.
More, more, more, until I get fed up.
On these hopeless ambitions
and sneeky intuitions.
I pray.
Let, let, let go. Try to understand.
I am I really who I say I am?
Or is he the better man?
Gone like the wind for this truth for the land.
I pray.
Tick, tock, tick, it's not every moment.
Blink, blink, blink, it's not on knees bent.
I walk down the street and let God decent.
For the lost, least, and last
like it was Christmas and that was my present.
I pray.
Let them say what they may,
I ain't here to dismay the holy trinitay,
If you, black, white, muslim, atheist, or gay.
I follow one heart to obey,
and make myself portray,
A love that makes my step sway.
I pray.
Even if it ain't a feeling,
and I'm not no stereotypical white kid
jumping through the contemporary ceiling,
I go through the actions,
because even every movement the body makes,
the soul has it reactions.
I pray.
A brother that is learning how God lasts,
a sister that is growing up so fast,
An hermano that shows how a man chose,
y un a madre que haceme menos pelizoso.
With a father who gives great love to a daughter,
and another mom showing me to swim in open water.
I pray.
What do you do?
Shalom.
Yes, yes, yes, my life is all lost.
But that's when these hairs criss,
then then I come to the cross.
I pray.
Some, some, some, I try to fill me up.
More, more, more, until I get fed up.
On these hopeless ambitions
and sneeky intuitions.
I pray.
Let, let, let go. Try to understand.
I am I really who I say I am?
Or is he the better man?
Gone like the wind for this truth for the land.
I pray.
Tick, tock, tick, it's not every moment.
Blink, blink, blink, it's not on knees bent.
I walk down the street and let God decent.
For the lost, least, and last
like it was Christmas and that was my present.
I pray.
Let them say what they may,
I ain't here to dismay the holy trinitay,
If you, black, white, muslim, atheist, or gay.
I follow one heart to obey,
and make myself portray,
A love that makes my step sway.
I pray.
Even if it ain't a feeling,
and I'm not no stereotypical white kid
jumping through the contemporary ceiling,
I go through the actions,
because even every movement the body makes,
the soul has it reactions.
I pray.
A brother that is learning how God lasts,
a sister that is growing up so fast,
An hermano that shows how a man chose,
y un a madre que haceme menos pelizoso.
With a father who gives great love to a daughter,
and another mom showing me to swim in open water.
I pray.
What do you do?
Shalom.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)