Questions Answered

I am coming up on my 4-month-iversary with the Mountain. I have been reflecting on my experiences here the past couple of days (things are slowing down a lot). Whenever I see people and describe what I am doing here, or visit those familiar with this place, the first question is always, "So, do you like it?" I am afraid I haven't given it a fair shot. Things in my life outside of here have been all topsy turvy the past few months; there have been a lot of changes for me, and not all of them have been good. It's hard to separate the feelings I've had about those changes from my feelings about the Mountain itself, because I tend to be a big old mushpot of feelings who has a hard time separating them out. So, is my life here good? Yes. Are the guys I live with good to me? Absolutely. I hope that answers your questions.

Two weeks ago, I was in a car accident. I am fine and so is the other driver. The only injuries were both our cars. It has been hard to rejoice in that through all the stress of dealing with insurance companies and wondering what the outcome would be for my beloved Baby Red (my car). I am starting to realize, though, how incredibly lucky I was. The impact occurred on the driver side of my car, and had the other driver been speeding, I would have been much worse off than simply bumping my head. And, as it turns out, the car is fixable for close to the amount the insurance company gave us. Basically, I continue to be the luckiest girl in the world. Enough about the accident, since it continues to be one of my least favorite topics.

We had the annual Advent overnight a couple of weeks ago, with Bonaventure students coming up to the Mountain to put up and decorate the tree and a wreath. The tree decorating ceremony was one of the most beautiful things I've ever taken part in. Each person would choose an ornament or two, then pray aloud for someone or something as they placed the ornament on the tree. It was incredible to hear some of the things these people have been through, and all that is on their minds and hearts. I don't remember how much time passed, but I do remember being awestruck at the reverence shown by all present throughout the entire ceremony. It really helped me to open up to the Advent season.

I hope you are all having a joyous Advent season and that you have a very Merry Christmas! I will be heading home to celebrate with my family in the next week, and I am so excited!

"With love, with patience, and with faith, she'll make her way."

Winter is rearing its ugly head in West Clarksville. The inch of snow we got the night before last is slowly melting away, but the overcast skies warn that there is more to come. I realized today that I failed to bring any of my colder weather accessories, like gloves, scarves, hats, and the like. I'm not really sure what I was thinking when I packed, maybe that I would become invincible to cold this winter, or discover how to grow fur on command. I have not done either. Luckily, though, the weather has remained merely chilly as opposed to frigid and I am not in any danger of frostbite.

We have had busy days of hosting lately. Last week, the FVMs invaded the Mountain and I think some of my community are still trying to catch their breath. It was wonderful to get to see my site supervisor and my program director and Katelyn! What a breath of fresh air to have people around that have grown to know me so well. I still feel so connected to the Inn and all its happenings (possibly because Katelyn and I manage to correspond daily), as though I could return tomorrow and pick up right where I left off. I won't say the thought hasn't crossed my mind. It was great to get to know the other 2 FVMs better and to see their community in action. They welcomed me in so much that sometimes I felt like I was the 4th community member. As awesome as it was, it also highlighted some challenges I face in my own current community, so the realization that they were leaving while I had to remain at the Mountain made saying good-bye very difficult.

There is a lovely older couple here this week on retreat, and it is almost like having a set of grandparents here. They constantly encourage me to eat, and even brough a large pot full of soup, some homemade Amish chocolates, and homemade Amish bread, as well as some cheese from Cuba, so there is definitely no shortage of things to eat. Oh, and I almost forgot-they brough a pumpkin roll. Heavenly. The wife was telling me about the pumpkin cake her husband makes on occasion (which sounded divine) and as they watched me drool, they decided they would try to return in May so they could bring me some. This is just another example of a phenomena I have been noticing a lot lately. If you do something good, or start something good, people will get behind it. They may need some encouragement, but if you can make them believe in your vision, they will support it. How else has the St. Francis Inn managed to stay open in spite of all the things that happen that would cause any other place to close? How does the Mountain continue to run smoothly in spite of the fact that it is completely countercultural and lacking in any type of reinforcement in "normal" society? A few weeks ago, I sat in on our board of trustees meeting and just looked around the room. All of those 13 people have jobs and families and a million other different things to do. Yet, they give their time and energy to make the Mountain happen. They can't even come to the Mountain all that often, so they are doing it for other people. It's beautiful. It gives me hope for my own future in that as long as I stand for something good, I will likely have others standing with me.

Physician's assistant school is becoming a reality for next year for me. I got a phone call from Le Moyne last week to schedule an interview for January. I am thrilled. Granted, I would probably rather be living in Philadelphia, but a call to PCOM yesterday revealed that they have yet to touch my application. To quote an old basketball T-shirt I somehow acquired, "The future's so bright I've gotta wear shades."

Where am I supposed to buy underwear?! and other concerns of small-town living

Last night, while out to a lovely dinner in Olean, my parents and I decided we would head to Buffalo the next day (today) to go shopping for a few things I mentioned that I could use. When we returned to the Mountain and I had gone up to my room for the night, I googled the exact drive time from here to Buffalo and found it to be 1 HOUR AND 53 MINUTES. Not really enough to make a trip worth it, as we couldn't leave until 12 and I had to be back for a 5:30 meeting on campus. When I told my mom this morning, she was appalled and insisted that there had to be SOMETHING nearby (there is Wal-Mart, Target and a semi-decent Old Navy in Olean). Well we looked for Macy's, Target, Kohls, and found nothing within a reasonable distance. If I didn't think I was isolated before, I know it now. Not that these things are necessarily all that fulfilling to me, but I would like to be able to buy some decent underwear.

While reflecting on all of this on the way home from campus this evening, I realized that the only place I really go is campus, and occasionally Tops. I see a lot of people, and I haven't really had the desire to go anyplace else except in cases where I could see certain people I miss. Lately, though, I have been getting antsy. I can't explain it really, but the feeling comes as a result of not really feeling like myself. Now that I am getting over the discomfort of my various transitions, I'm starting to want to stretch my wings a little and do something life-affirming. The last time I acted on my antsy-ness, Mo and Katelyn joined me in painting a room in our house starting at 8 pm one fateful Sunday night. I don't know where it's going to lead me this time, but I feel an adventure coming on. Maybe another piercing...(just kidding Mom and Dad!)

So, there's no place to buy underwear, the nearest city is about 2 hours away, and I am surrounded by pro-gun propaganda. The other day I saw a bumper sticker with a picture of a handgun that read, "I'd rather have one and not need it than need one and not have it." I was struck by the use of the word "need," and can't get the wording out of my head. I cannot think of a single situation in my life in which I have NEEDED a gun. Perhaps I haven't lived long enough, and maybe things are rougher than I thought out in the country, but I find it hard to understand the need one would have for such a weapon.

I'm sure the ranting about small town life will continue at a later date, but for now I am out of rants. I suppose I should thank God that these are the only problems with where I'm living and then shut my mouth. So thanks, God, and good night!

So last night we had a boys' floor up to the Mountain for an evening away. During the homily, the question was posed: "What is the greatest thing in your life right now?" There were answers of friends, family, God, the ability to help people. I was thinking and thinking and a lot came up, but it seemed like the best thing would come to me with crashing cymbals and maybe even a parade (in my head). Well no parade came, but an idea did. I think, right now, that the unknown is the best thing in my life. I have submitted my applications to PA school, and have no idea where that will take me. Nothing but possibilities await me after the first week in June. And scary as that is, it is also very exciting. Something I try to always think to myself before making a decision is "You'll never be more free than you are right now." As I get older, I know I will likely get tied down to more and more things and I really want to appreciate freedom and possibility as much as I can.

My parents are coming down tomorrow (yay!) and I am so excited to see them. Besides Renee's and Johnnycakes' visit, this is the first time two of my worlds have collided at the Mountain, and at least those worlds are related. Unfortunately, 3 of the friars are gone for the weekend, so the parents won't get the full effect, but they will get enough for now. I feel like so much has happened since I last saw them in the beginning of September-hours have been spent on the phone with them since then, and there have been tears and celebrations-it seems like a year instead of a month and a half. So you can imagine how psyched I am!

It has been a good, but complicated, day. Students at SBU are really starting to get comfortable around me, and have started coming to me with their problems. Sometimes they are bigger than I am able to handle. Please say a prayer for college students everywhere, as a lot is expected of them and sometimes it can feel overwhelming. I love the students I am working with, and love that they trust me. It feels good to be settled and comfortable here. I was worried for a while that it wouldn't happen, but now I realize I just wasn't being patient enough with myself; transitions are hard and adjustment takes time. Sometimes the urge to cut and run is just a fleeting feeling.

Bragging rights

I'm going to take advantage of this time and space sitting before me and do a little bragging. I know that lots of people may say this, but when I say it, it is actually true. I have the best friends and family. That ever lived. In all of my struggles and tears and frustrations in the past month, not once did I ever feel completely alone. Whenever I chose to unburden myself, I was more often than not offered a number to call at any time of the day or night by people who actually meant it; people who would have arisen groggy and half-asleep to listen to me whine and complain. It blows my mind, and it leaves me to wonder how often I have been that compassionate and kind when others have really needed me. I can think specifically of a few times when I did not reach out as I should have, and I am definitely regretting them. It's amazing, though, the incredible outpouring of love that I have received. I don't really have friends here yet (aside from my friars!) so I have been spending lots of time on the phone. People have been so generous with their time.

[I just realized that parts of the above paragraph were already published in the "All you need is love" post. I apologize for repeating myself, but maybe that will help express how truly and deeply I have been touched by those who have been so good to me.]

The gospel today is the parable about the day laborers who begin work at different times during the day, but all end up receiving the same wage. The message is that God gives and loves so generously, that merely by existing we are entitled to it. The good, the bad, and the ugly are all loved with the same love. Naturally, this can be infuriating to some of the good because they work hard to be good, but then end up with the same "reward" as the bad and the ugly. The thing is that love is not a reward. It is not something that is deserved; it is something that is given freely to whoever wants it. It has been the same way with the love and generosity I have been receiving lately. I haven't done anything to necessarily deserve all this love, yet I have been blessed with it all the same. We know that it is not the way of the world that the good should always be given good and the bad always be given bad; what would that teach us about compassion and mercy?

I am reading "Left to Tell" by Immaculee Ilibagiza, her story about surviving the Rwandan genocide. My reading it goes perfectly with the gospel. She details her personal struggles with faith throughout the violence of the war, and her initial inability to forgive those who were killing her family and friends. It was only after intense prayer experiences that she was able to view the killers as children of God who had been led astray and therefore, as such, deserving of her love and forgiveness. She is so inspirational-she was completely honest about her faith journey and feelings during the entire ordeal. She hid in a tiny bathroom with 5 other women for 3 months before being liberated. Her faith was constantly under attack, but she managed to maintain it through prayer. I absolutely recommend this book; it was required reading for St. Bonaventure freshmen, and everyone on campus is talking about it. It has been brought up here in reflections in the chapel on numerous occasions. Ilibagiza spoke at Siena's graduation this past year, and will be coming to SBU in November. I can't wait to hear her speak.

I hope you all are well. Thank you so much for your love and support; it has gotten me through a lot, and it continues to strengthen and heal me.

Love is in the air

Yesterday I wrote that I had been thinking about love and now it appears as though I am doomed to continue thinking about it whether I want to or not. Bear with me while I give you a little background. Today, Franciscans celebrated the feast of Francis receiving the stigmata. Two of Francis' greatest desires in life were to experience the love Jesus felt for us, and also to experience the pain that Jesus went through for us. He became the first person ever recorded to actually receive the wounds of Christ, thereby fulfilling one of his desires. It really is beautiful how Francis bore the extreme pain of these wounds, all for the love of God and man.

Students came up to the Mountain this evening for a little relaxation, a home-cooked meal, and Mass. I had been asked to help by opening the homily and, when I looked at the readings for the day, I was blown away. The first reading was (what else could it be?) 1 Corinthians 12:31-13:13 which contains the famous lines "if I have all faith so as to move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away everything I own, and if I hand my body over so that I may boast but do not have love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, love is not pompous...Love never fails." This was replaced, though, by a different reading in Franciscan circles because of the feast. I was amazed by the idea that that could be the reading. I was kicking around ideas with Br. Kevin before dinner about the homily and he seemed to have some good ones that actually pertained to the feast day, so I asked him to speak instead of me. When I heard his words, I was again blown away. He spoke of God's boundless love for us in sending his son, and the need for Jesus to die in the excruciating, humiliating way in which he did so that we could let him in to those parts of us that we find humiliating and excruciating. I wish I could remember all of his words because they were beautiful and left the entire chapel speechless for a few moments. It got me thinking about how we are called to love, and therefore are forced to face those parts of ourselves and others which are viewed as awful and embrace them, knowing that we all have that in common. Again, love is a huge responsibility to take on. And, like the stigmata, it can be incredibly painful but it is most definitely a gift.

All you need is love. (Really?)

I took a hiatus from blogging for a lot of reasons. First, because things got crazy(er than usual) with all of the good-bye-ing and the last ditch efforts to do everything I wanted to do while living in Philadelphia (it didn't happen). From Philly, I spent a night at home then went directly to the summer camp where I had spent the previous 4 summers. My feelings there were a mixture of what-am-I-doing-here and it-feels-like-I-never-left. From camp, I went on a cruise with Katelyn and her family. We stopped in St. Thomas and St. Martin. Again, there were mixed feelings: don't-worry-I-can-bus-my-own-table and gosh-it's-nice-to-be-taken-care-of. From the Caribbean, I went to Casey's house for a week and then, finally, my own house for a week. Both places had their own mixtures of feelings that are not as simply broken down, so we shall leave it by saying that both were good places to be at the time.
Now, I am living and working at Mount Irenaeus (http://mounti.com/), which will simply be called "the Mountain" from now on. Talk about mixed feelings; or rather, the dominant feeling being distressed. I am doing better now, and I'm realizing it may take me a while to get used to this new lifestyle. So, the plan is to be patient with myself, and learn and experience as much as possible. Now onto the real subject of this blog...
It's strange having a job where my love for others, instead of being constantly tested and stretched to its very limits, is constantly reaffirmed. I love the students I work with, and I want to do my very best for them. I love the men with whom I am living; they are genuinely Christian and human and crazy, which are probably three of the best adjectives I could ever use to describe people. In the struggles I have been having with this transition, I have experienced an absolute downpour of love from those I am closest to. My parents and friends could not be more supportive and loving. When told that I was having difficulty sleeping for a few weeks, I was more often than not told, and by people who really meant it, to pick up the phone at any hour of the day or night just so I did not have to be alone. My rantings and whinings were listened to by sympathetic ears, and by people who certainly had other things to do. I have had difficulty in the past reaching out and asking for help, but these people made it so that I didn't even need to ask. Amazing.
So, I've been thinking a lot about love lately. Much of it has centered around two incredible statements I've heard in the past year. Fr. Bill at the Inn said in a homily once, "You can't have love without forgiveness, and you can't have forgiveness without love." Br. Kevin here at the Mountain said in a shared homily that "There is no such thing as conditional love." He went on to say that when you place conditions on love you turn it into a business transaction and then, obviously, it is no longer love. Both of these ideas keep coming back into my mind as I begin anew here, and reflect on my past year at the Inn. What a huge responsibility it is, to love other human beings. Sometimes it is just something that comes so easily it pours out of you; other times it must be a conscious decision. That decision can be so difficult sometimes. I think, though, that is where the true beauty of love lies, in that people are willing to take that difficult path of being kind and loving, rather than the quick and easy path of being cruel and full of hate.

PS. I've been waiting to use this as the title for a blog entry for a long time. Both the song and the statement alone have been significant in various areas of my life. I once sang it at the top of my lungs in the quad at Siena; I've been known to text it at opportune moments to certain friends of mine. This one's for you :)

She's only happy when it rains.

I don't know if you've noticed, but it is HOT outside. We're talking the kind of hot that causes an outbreak of sweat at the mere exertion caused by standing still. And this isn't even the worst of it. I just returned to Philadelphia after a lovely vacation and, much to my chagrin, it was a whopping 99 degrees. At 6:30pm. We learned on the news tonight (we snuck into a guest house that just happens to have cable) that 9 people have died due to heat-related causes. Outrageous. It rained last night (hence the title of this post-not just an allusion to the gloriously angry Garbage song), which served to reduce the temperature and the humidity to a comfortable 85 degrees today. It's still too hot for my taste, and people keep reminding me that it's only the beginning of summer.

I suppose the one bright spot is that the heat will make it that much easier to leave here in 44 days. Not that anything could make it easy. I'm so torn between excitement about the future, sadness about leaving people who have become another family to me, and a little fear about heading off into unchartered waters. During our roadtrip last week, my mom and I spent a fair amount of time (and money) shopping for clothes that would make me resemble an adult. The realization that I would one day soon be needing blouses and dress pants and dressy shoes was a little scary, and not just because I'm a ripped-jeans-with-a-souvenir-T-shirt kind of girl. I think it's the fact that people will finally be taking me seriously and entrusting me with important responsibilities. Yikes.

Another feature of the road trip was a meeting with an admissions counselor involved with the Physician's Assistant program at Le Moyne in Syracuse. We had a great talk, and she declared me a "very competitive applicant." Another exciting, but rather scary, development. I have begun my application, and am still looking at schools, although I really liked the sound of Le Moyne.

It's good to be back in Philly. I jumped right back in to the routine by coordinating the meal this evening. It was good to see everyone again, and I received a very warm welcome.

Peace be with you!

Decisions, decisions.

One of the most difficult things (and most beautiful things at the same time) about my job is that there are never right or wrong answers. You act as your conscience dictates. Everyone on the team has the same basic respect for the choices of the others. We joke, of course, that so-and-so gives everything away and some other so-and-so won't give anything to anyone; but I would say that a majority of us are softies at heart and would happily give someone the shirts off our backs if that someone really needed it and if it weren't completely indecent. When it comes down to it, though, we wield a decent amount of power. As coordinator, you can have a person banned from meals, or from the grounds entirely. You can give away bags and bags of canned goods, and refuse a request for a pat of butter. Sometimes these decisions are handed down out of necessity (we don't have any butter), but more often it is simply a judgment call (if I give you a container of laundry detergent, you will tell all your friends and then I will have 15 requests for detergent and will be running up and down the basement stairs retrieving it for the remainder of the meal).

It is so hard to establish protocol for different situations, because almost every situation has a unique quality to it that renders any possible protocol inapplicable. When I first arrived here, I was very concerned with trying to determine the Inn's policy on certain things and was very frustrated with little inconsistencies I found among members of the team. I realize now it is because I am working in a place that recognizes the individuality of each person that walks through the door. It is because these are moral decisions we make, not cold-hearted business decisions. Our business is loving people for who and what they are. Sometimes loving them means giving them what they ask for; sometimes it means withholding it.

During an interview with someone involved with Mount Irenaeus a few weeks ago, I mentioned that I encounter God every day in the guests. He asked me what I meant by that, how did I see God in the guests? I don't remember what I said then, but now I realize that every person God sends my way is his way of challenging me. He, embodied by a guest, is looking me in the eye and saying, "Here I am. How are you going to help me?"

Most days, I come home satisfied, knowing that I have done the best I could. Some days, I wish I had done more and regret those moments when I was too busy or too lazy to listen to someone's story or to give them what they needed. Those are the moments I try to keep in the back of my mind when others come to me asking for my attention and care in times of chaotic activity at the Inn, or times when I would rather not have to listen to people's problems.

There is a sign on the inside of the door (whose bell seems to ring constantly) that says "Smile, Jesus is at the door." I see it every day. I have stopped noticing it, except on days when I need to take a deep breath before answering the door. It is then that I see the sign and it actually does make me smile, because I know it is a reminder to everyone who answers that door. Knowing that we all need that kind of reminder is incredibly reassuring to me. I am not the only one who struggles to do the right thing, or even to know what the right thing is.

On a more personal note, I have been accepted into an internship at Mt. Irenaeus for the upcoming academic year. I will be helping with hospitality at the Mountain and working with students on campus at St. Bonaventure University, trying to promote the Mountain and expand its ministry to a greater population of students. I am so excited to live in the mountains and to take on this new role with its new set of challenges. With the excitement of planning for the future comes the sadness of leaving the Inn behind. My official last day is July 25, and I will likely be moving out that weekend. I never realized how attached I would get to the team, but even more so, to the guests. I know I can see the team because I will be returning to visit. The guests have much more unpredictable futures, and I fear coming back to find some of the guests I have become closest to not here.

Searching for God and Finding...Myself?

I have been thinking a lot about religion and spirituality and prayer lately. A lot of things have been occurring in my life to encourage this introspection. First, a conversation with Fred, one of the friars, caused him to explain his stance on prayer, which is that, as Americans, we have this constant need to do the biggest and best things all the time, including prayer. We think we need to plan elaborate activities in order to connect with God, who, if you think about it, is really the only being in the universe who completely knows and completely loves us as individuals, and therefore understands our limitations. He really just wants to hear from us and is not expecting anything grandiose. Fred was telling me this as an explanation of why he enjoys praying the Psalms as morning and evening prayer, because the regularity and rhythm is really freeing, instead of stifling. That got me started thinking, especially since it was my week to plan prayer for my community. I have been feeling like I have reached the end of my creative rope when it comes to prayer planning and have, consequently, been beating myself up for not coming up with a bigger and better prayer experience for my housemates. Talking to Fred, though, helped me come to the conclusion that whatever I plan is really of little importance, as long as it inspires conversation with God. Basically, my planned prayer is like a ride to the airport, and it is up to the participants to board the plane in order to reach their final destination.

I then had a meeting with my extremely gentle and insightful spiritual director a couple of weeks ago during which I voiced frustration with myself about my prayer life, or rather, my lack thereof. I can't find time to pray, I told her. I don't feel that deep thirst for it like you told me I would; I feel like I'm doing it wrong. She explained to me that all those times during the day when I feel like I'm just talking to myself or "decompressing," as I call it, can actually be considered as prayer. It seems so obvious now, but I had never thought about it like that. If I have made a conscious decision to recognize God as a constant presence in my life, one who is with me always and is even a part of me, then how can dialogue with myself not be dialogue with God? It's such a simple concept, yet it is one that has taken a lot of work and reflection to understand. I just feel fortunate to have begun to understand it at all.

The final occurrence in my quest for a deepening of faith has been to start reading Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. I would highly recommend this book to anyone, if only because she has such a wonderful, conversational writing style that draws one into the story. She also has such a unique perspective on spirituality; she has a hugely open mind, with such a deep yearning for God that she will attempt any avenue that might bring her closer into His presence. I am about halfway through and am realy enjoying her insights. I think she would agree with my spiritual director about my issues with prayer, although she tends more towards Eastern practices of devotion.

In other news, I ran my first race today, a 5K in Maryland with my oldest brother and his girlfriend. It was a good showing all around and though we didn't win any fabulous prizes, we three were highly satisfied with our times. I am keeping up with my training for the 10-miler next month and it looks like I will achieve my goal (not fainting until after I cross the finish line). Tomorrow I head down to see my other brother to complete my '08 Sibling Tour. I will be heading back to Philly tomorrow night, refreshed and ready for a new week!

I hope you all have a wonderful weekend!!

Current Events

In my attempt to improve my updating, I may be overachieving by posting two days in a row, but perhaps this will give certain people something to do besides remind me that it's been a while since I posted.

A lot, actually, has already happened in April. I have continued my correspondence with one of the friars at the Mountain, and am planning a trip up there for the last week in April. I want to know more about what would be expected from me, and I would like to start to get to know the people I would be working with besides the friars. It's difficult for me to understand exactly what I would be doing, and no one has been able to give me a straight answer thus far, so hopefully this trip will be useful to everyone involved. I am planning to go away next weekend, as well, to Baltimore to see my brothers and run with Andy and Bridget in a 5K. Then, my mom and I will be going on vacation the first week in June.

It's overwhelming to think about all the things that need to happen in these last few months we have left in Philly. We are also planning another party for the kids, as well as a trip with them and their parents to Six Flags in New Jersey. There is Volunteer Appreciation Day at the end of April, and the annual Inn Block Party at the end of June. Oh yes, and in between those things we are planning to plant a garden and continue in our attempt to have each team member over to our house for dinner. Finally, there will be our closing retreat, which I can't talk or think about without becoming very upset. I don't know where the year went.

On Monday, like all first Mondays of the month, we cleaned the Inn. Well, I was on pickups, so I was not involved in the cleaning, but the Inn was cleaned. Since all day is spent cleaning and doing various other jobs, there isn't time to prepare a hot meal so we hand out bag lunches and usually whole desserts or something of that nature, if we have them. A local school makes hundreds of bagged lunches and sends them over. Often, the kids make up the bags themselves, so there is sometimes a cute little note in the bag, along with the sandwich, fruit, and dessert. The notes range from "Enjoy your lunch!" to "Happy (insert upcoming holiday here)!" to indecipherable drawings.

I can't describe to you how much support we receive from all over (and I know I probably have tried to describe it multiple times before, but humor me here). If it were not for these incredibly generous organizations, we would not be able to provide for our guests. Every role is so important here, from the benefactors that send $20 checks whenever they have the money, to people who drop off leftovers from parties, to people who collect toiletries from the scads of hotels they visit every year, to the meat-packing company that donates cases of meat every week, to the guys who come in Wednesday nights to run the dishwasher. The Inn is not just a single buidling, it is a network of people who all care about the well-being other people.

I digressed, as I tend to do, but we shall return to Monday. Michael and I were placed in the yard-him handing out tickets and me doing the line-up, although it was more like directing traffic, since it was being handed out the same way we do breakfasts. I was slurping coffee, since I had been so tired that I fell asleep on Katelyn's floor shortly after planning Mass music for that evening. Michael teased me later for standing like a zombie clutching my coffee mug and barely moving, which was probably pretty accurate. The crowd dispersed about a half hour into the meal, and I finished my coffee and began to more closely resemble a human being. That's when they walked into the yard. Well, he walked and, with some difficulty, supported her as she swayed and stumbled; she leaned on him as on a wall. Once inside, he sat her down with her back up against the fence. Karen went over to see what was wrong with her and determine what needed to be done. I can't exactly remember the color of her clothes, but I don't know that I will ever forget how she looked. She was wearing a low-neck top that barely covered below her ribcage. Her white stomach drooped over the waist of her jeans, and there was a dark line of hair below her belly button. Her clothes were barely on her body, so it was practically indecent to look at her. She had makeup on, and earrings, but in her state it made her look almost like a little girl playing dress-up. She had dark, shoulder-length hair. Her face was young and thin, but the rest of her reminded me of an overgrown garden; she looked like she had just stopped caring.

Karen had gone inside to make the 911 call, the guy she had been with disappeared, and the crowd that had gathered around her found other entertainment. She was having trouble staying up, so I knelt next to her to keep her upright and held her head so she could keep breathing easily. She came in and out of consciousness, sometimes responding to her name (someone told me it was Dawn) and asking who I was and passing out again before I could answer. Some guys from the Last Stop came over to try and be helpful and give advice, but sooner or later everyone left us. I had someone get her a blanket so she could be covered, and the guy she had been with resurfaced to give me a bag of her stuff. The firemen responded first, and one of them tried to explain to me how he knew she was a heroin addict. I nodded as though I was listening; the truth is, I don't want to be able to look at someone and know for sure what their drug of choice is. I would rather stay naive.

Dawn was taken to the hospital, and I haven't heard anymore about her since Monday. She came to long enough for the medics and police to get her name and age (27). I haven't really felt sad about her situation, just numb. I hope she's ok and I have been praying for her, but I have a feeling this wasn't her first trip to the ER and it won't be the last.

Beware the Ides of March

Now that I am averaging once a month updates, I will attempt to reduce March to a brief summary. It was a month of transition; I came out of the difficulties and painfulness only to be greeted by a whirlwind of activity and change. My parents visited, and seeing them did me an enormous amount of good. There's something about surrounding yourself with people who know the real you that can be so comforting and liberating, and this was no different. We went to the world-reknowned Philadelphia Flower Show; we went to a restaurant that had an incredible beer selection, and pretty great food; Maureen and my parents finally met after hearing so much about each other. My only regret is that we did not spend as much time together as I would have liked-another event came up that same weekend that some of the Inn staff were expected to go to, so I missed out on some quality time. The same day they left, we departed as well for our spring retreat.

Retreat was not quite the panacea I was hoping for it to be. I was expecting instant peace the minute we reached Mt. Irenaeus, since I had been having such a hard time finding it in Philly. Instead I was disappointed in that things-don't-always-turn-out-the-way-you-expect sort of way. I did manage to catch up on desperately needed sleep, which meant a sacrifice of prayer and personal reflection time. While I was there, though, I found out about an incredible opporunity for the year following my departure from Philly. The friars at the Mountain (http://www.mounti.com) are looking for interns for the upcoming school year to join in their life and ministry. I could live at the Mountain and work with students at St. Bonaventure University, as well as take some classes. At first I was hesitant, as I am about most ideas new and different that would turn my life topsy turvy, but I have gotten really excited about this as a possibility. The only drawback, I think, is that it would be another year even further removed from friends and family. The place is truly in the middle of nowhere. I still have to give this some more thought and prayer, but it seems to be the best option I have stumbled upon for next year.

In other news, our number of visitors has increased. Casey finally got a chance to visit, and it was great to see him and have him experience the Inn, which he has been hearing so much about for so long. Katelyn has been having a few visitors, including her aunt and uncle and a friend from college. It's been fun sharing our lives with them!

I made it home for about 56 hours during the few days before Easter. It was everything retreat was not for me. I relaxed and spent real quality time with my family. I even did absolutely nothing for a little while, and didn't feel in the least bit guilty. I felt more "me" than I had in a while. It was so good for me, and I was very reluctant to leave. It was also one of the first times I've ever felt like a visitor in my own house. My room was the same as I left it, with piles of my stuff everywhere; nothing had changed. It must have been the fact that I had been away for so long that it didn't feel like returning home. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, since it is just another indicator of the fact that I am growing up and starting a life that is taking me away from home base. I was sad to miss out on the Holy Week liturgies, but it was worth it to be able to sleep in my own bed for a couple of nights. I was back to Philly in time for Easter Vigil and to help plan the Easter morning prayer service. Our numbers of guests were higher towards the end of March, but Easter morning was the most crowded I have ever seen the Inn. The final number was 483 people. The yard overflowed onto the sidewalk. Families came from far and wide to get Easter baskets for their kids. The senior line was roughly a mile long. Maureen was lining people up and did an excellent job of keeping her cool. I would probably have cried about halfway through had it been me, considering we were still seating people at 1:30, even though we stopped handing out tickets at 1 pm.

Updates on more recent events shall be posted soon; hopefully this will tide you over until I get around to them. Part of the setback in March was my lack of a computer. The power cord to my laptop decided to cease functioning, leaving me with a dead battery and a very full e-mail inbox. It will soon be time for a new laptop, since mine continues to send me threatening messages along the lines of "The end is near." I am trying to save my pennies so I can have a new one when I return to the world of attending classes, so if anyone has any advice about good brands or important features, I would be happy to receive it! My computer knowledge is only slightly more extensive than my knowledge of professional sports which, as those of you who know me already realize, is practically nil.

I hope all is well with you, wherever you may be!

HOPEPRAYLOVE

I can't really say that I am sad to see February go. Not one of us in the San Damiano Spiritual Center came out of it unscathed. While on my recruiting visit to Siena, I received the news that my Uncle Roger had died after a 2-year bout with mesothelioma. Upon my return to Philadelphia, I learned of some awful events that occurred involving our guests. They included a quickly broken up knife fight in the yard and the attempted rape of one of our frequent female guests. During the latter struggle, our guest received a black eye and cuts across her face that required stitches. In her words, "it happens to the best of us." But it shouldn't happen to anyone.

The following weekend, one of our guests lost his wife. He came to the Inn the next day to grieve among the people he considers his family, the staff of the Inn. He had been there with Katelyn for 2 hours when I came to work to relieve her. When he first started talking to me, he seemed normal but upset. As time went on, he started making less and less sense until his ramblings became practically meaningless. I have to admit, it was a little frightening watching someone deteriorate like that. I haven't seen him since, and it has been almost a week. All I can do is pray for him.

The next morning I was coordinating the breakfast shift and handing out clothing vouchers to a cranky crowd when another guest (who, I found later, is known for his drunkenness and rowdiness) decided to make me his target. I tried my best to keep the peace and my cool, but as soon as he left I broke down and cried. All of the sadness and frustration and powerlessness that I had been feeling got the best of me. It had little to do with the belligerent man in the voucher line, and yet everything to do with him. How can people treat others like they are worthless? How can one even consider threatening another with a weapon? How can you punish someone with slashes across the face for trying to fight you off? Why do good people have to die so painfully? Whose fault is all of this and what can we do to change it?

I'm not expecting any answers, and I certainly know that there is far more to life than just the awful things that have been occurring lately. I just wish there was more I could do. Until I figure out what that "more" is, I will hope, pray, and love.

Someday I will have a real job. Maybe.

Today I stood out in the rain for an hour, watched two little boys squabble over one of them cutting the other in line, received flowers, worked with a living saint, and now I am about to answer the phone and door about a million times. I got to be outside to hand out tickets for breakfast, the 2 little boys are actually older than 20 and one flung hot coffee in the other's face. A man brought flowers into the Inn and gave them to me saying, "I wasn't sure what else to do with them so I brought them to you." Brother Xavier is one of the kindest, most generous people I've ever met and he worked the morning shift with me. He is almost 80 years old and even though he has lived in the United States almost his entire life, he still has not mastered the English language. He ambles around the Inn, spreading his joy wherever he goes. He runs a scrap metal business out of the Inn, and has guys who collect random metal, which he then sells to the scrap yard, repaying the guys and buying tokens with the proceeds. He distributes tokens like some people drop crumbs. Every time you turn around, someone is at the door looking for him. He never complains, only laughs. This afternoon, I am working in the office, answering the phone and the door, checking mail for people, and letting people in to use the phone.

This coming weekend I will be going back up to Siena to recruit for FVM at the annual post-college service fair. I will be speaking at Masses on Sunday and at teh fair on Monday night. I will be back to work Tuesday afternoon. As much as I am loving my life and as happy as I am here, I am eager for a little break from the action.

Marathon training continues. I did a 3-mile run last week and was so thrilled. I am planning to do the Broad Street Run in May, which I thought was a 5K but, as it turns out, is actually a 10-miler. Needless to say, I have a lot more work to do, but I can't wait!! Bad weather this week has prevented much work, making it hard to run outside and hard to make it out to the gym since the roads are so icy. We finally got some snow last night! but then it turned to ice and now slush, so the city has basically shut down. Schools closed, the mailman didn't show, and our entire breakfast crew bailed. Last night, we were supposed to have 2 high school groups work the meal but neither showed up. The team got to cover the entire dining room, and it sounded like they had a lot of fun. I was outside playing in the ice and slush. I had high hopes for making a snow angel, but they were quickly dashed. We are staying warm, though, and trying not to slip and slide over the glare ice.

I have been thinking a lot about the future but, unfortunately, have not had a lot of time to take action. The next step is to contact people to talk about options and pros and cons about the things I'm considering. It seems daunting right now, but once I start I know it won't seem so bad.

We are looking forward to a nice, quiet Valentine's Day; Katelyn and I are trying to get Maureen and Ryan to go do something romantic so that we can celebrate single-girl style (chocolate cake, broken-heart cookies from Annie, loud non-sappy music).

A Day in the Life of a Volunteer

Some days I end wondering what exactly I did with my time. I am sure I am not the only one who does this. Today was a pretty typical day (if there is such a thing here), so I thought it might be interesting for you to see how I spent my time, so here goes:

8:05 wake up, roll over, toss, and turn until...

8:10-8:25 get up, get ready, begin day

8:30-9:15 Mass in the chapel at the Inn

10:00-11:00 work out at Holy Family University

11:30-12:00 lunch with Jamie and Mo (it's Fat Tuesday-we got Grilladelphia)

12:00-12:45 shower, get ready for the "work" portion of the day

1:00-1:30 begin the afternoon shift with Renee and coordinating for the meal-this entails finding out what the cook is making, what the drink will be, and how many guests we are planning for, as well as what other preparations need to be done for the meal

1:30-4:00 cutting 275 slices of pie and cake for the meal, answering the door and phone, checking mail, letting people in to use the bathroom, sorting whole desserts to give away, letting the men irrigating the garden into and out of the yard, organizing people to bag bread, accepting donations, attempting to help a man whose pants fell down in the middle of the office find a place to stay for the night that wasn't the Inn (I was unsuccessful, but at least I got him to leave), assigning jobs for the meal, bringing up toiletries and diapers to hand out

4:00-4:30 greeting the volunteers for the day, assigning them jobs, training the new servers, making sure that drinks are available, bread is put out, and food is ready to be served

4:30-6:00 handing out toiletries, giving out tickets for takeout meals, checking on the servers, mopping frosting off the floor from the desserts, finding a lightbulb for a guest who never came to get it, holding a baby, chasing down a man who stole juice, giving candy to kids, putting out more bread, answering questions for the servers, explaining to a group why they could not perform a play in the middle of the dining room during the meal and then training them to bus tables, keeping an eye out for a man who is wanted for rape, running up and down the creaky basement steps to get baby formula

6:00-6:40 overseeing sweeping and mopping of the kitchen and dining room, thanking and bidding adieu to the volunteers, shutting things off, putting things away

6:40-7:00 evening prayer in the chapel

My hours are not terribly long (except Mondays, which seem to last forever), but the intensity of those hours can be very high. Some days it seems like everyone who rings the doorbell has a sad story and it can be downright depressing. Other days, like today, hilarious things (like the man's pants falling down and the performers/volunteers arriving) happen and serve as reminders that life is not all, not even mostly, doom and gloom.

Lights, Camera, Action

Heat and electricity have returned to 1817-1819 E. Hagert. On Thursday night, we began with a prayer service during which we wrote our goals for the brownout, then we lit candles, turned off the heat, and settled in on the couch to maximize our body heat and tell stories. The first night was chilly, and I believe we each accidentally turned on a light or two, but otherwise we were successful. The team left on retreat at roughly the same time we turned the lights out, so the next day I coordinated with only Katelyn, Maureen and the New Zealanders at my disposal. A couple of groups showed up (one made its appearance about 15 minutes into the meal) as well as two of our guests who have recently begun helping out at meals. I was thankful for all the help, even though we only had 158 people to serve. This was the lowest number I've ever seen at the Inn, resulting from the day being disgusting and rainy, oh yeah, and the first of the month.

Once we all got home, it was naptime. I found, with the very low temperature in our house, that it was difficult to get motivated into any kind of productivity. We also decided that our car would be off-limits during the brownout so we were effectively quarantined, much like our first 6 weeks here. After naptime, Katelyn treated us all to a beautiful picnic dinner (we decided to continue using our refrigerator for the sake of nutrition and had stocked up on fruit and veggies on Wednesday) and we finished out the night with a house meeting and some Skip-Bo (if you have not had the pleasure of playing this game, I highly encourage you to go out and buy it). That night got a little colder, and during a quick trip to the Inn Katelyn and I discovered that it was warmer outside our house than in.

Saturday dawned sunny and cold, but the Inn was warm and welcoming. I was out in the yard and we had another slower day (238) so I had the chance to chitchat instead of yelling numbers across the yard to line people up to go inside. I talked with a guy from the Last Stop who had a message from God for me to have patience regarding my future; I met a man who tried to get me to take my gloves off because he insisted my hands were not cold, and he then tried to take me home with him (I respectfully declined); and I also got some quality Rocky time. All in all, a very good day. When we got home, we counted down until the heat could be turned back on, as well as recounted what we were grateful for in light (or dark) of our brownout experience. To celebrate use of our car, we met up with Joanne to see Atonement. I cannot comment on the movie yet as I am still going over and over it in my brain.

The team returned Saturday night, and were back to work in almost full force this morning. A strain of the flu has hit our staff and 3 have already been taken down. I am eating oranges like crazy and taking my vitamins. Tonight, we celebrate the Super Bowl with a potluck dinner party. Don't ask who I'm rooting for, because I would probably just tell you "the commercials." I will be bringing chips and my knitting.

BROWNOUT

Our house is undergoing a voluntary brownout from now until Saturday night. I promise to post details, as well as a nice long update once we return to the world of electricity. Until then, peace be with you!

Notes from the Sickbed

I have been sick for the past week, and so have barely done anything worthy of a blog post. I'm starting to get better, thanks to lots of rest and lots of soup. A lot has happened in my absence, or so I hear. A third instance of graffiti in the bathrooms (they were just painted on the 7th) occurred, one of our regulars was banned for being rude to both a server from Wisconsin and Katelyn, and Outreach refused to pick up one of our guests ever again. Outreach is a service that provides transportation to shelters; this guest is one who has been on the street for many, many years and has been a passenger in the Outreach van many, many times without remaining at any shelter and so he has managed to burn his last bridge.

In other news, our program director is currently residing in our house for day 2 of our site visit. She moves in for a few days, conducts one-on-one meetings with each of us, then facilitates a community meeting at the conclusion of her stay, raising issues she thinks we need to work on, and helping us communicate our own concerns. It's going well, and the only one left to do a one-on-one is Maureen, as Katelyn and I did ours yesterday. Katie, our program director, and I talked about everything that's been going on in my life lately (surprisingly, we had a lot to talk about) and how that's been affecting my ministry and community life. We discussed my relationships with those I live with and those I work with, and how they can be improved. It was a very helpful conversation and she has also set up an opportunity for me to receive spiritual direction (with who else, but an SSJ!), and is going to help me in making some decisions on what to do once this year is up.

That is the long and the short of it for now-I'm continuing to take it easy, and won't work at all today until the meal at 4:30. Tomorrow is the big community meeting, which also coincides with our 5 month anniversary of living in Philadelphia so we are planning to have Chinese food and possibly a cake to celebrate. The marathon training has been put on hold for me, at least, but I plan to start workouts again as soon as I can breathe through my nose. Katelyn is "plowing through" some pain in her knees that will hopefully disappear soon. The good news is that Maureen has decided she wants in and has begun working out herself, so we will be looked back upon as "the year they all trained for a marathon."

Also, I have changed the settings on the blog so that anyone should be able to leave a comment now, not just registered users, so comment away! Please be sure to add your name, though, if it doesn't display automatically.

Many blessings on you as we drift out of the craziness of Christmas and into the peace of the Ordinary Time!

It's all happening.

In November, Fr. Michael, Katelyn, and I spoke at a Mass at a Franciscan parish on Long Beach Island. The parish is always very generous and takes up collections for us, so a contingent is sent every year to explain about the Inn and get people interested in the cause. Katelyn and I each wrote a couple pages about our experiences, so it occurred to me I should publish mine here. A parishioner, Jane, called the Inn in December to let us know she had been inspired by what we said and had gotten some other members of her retirement community interested as well and would like for us to come to a tea to give them more information about how they could get involved. We just returned from the tea with over $600, about 10 winter coats and sweaters, bags full of much-needed toiletries and, best of all, toilet paper (we have been going through a shortage at the Inn). The women at the tea were very interested in our work and the people with whom we work. We encouraged them to come to the Inn to see the good that their donations do, and they invited us to come back in the spring. It was an awesome experience, and it was such an honor to be one of the people who inspired these women to help.

On a more personal note, the girls and I have decided we are going to become athletic superstars. The goal is currently a half-marathon, with potential for a full marathon depending on how the first few weeks of training go. I am up to 2 miles, so I still have a long way to go, but we are very excited about the training!!



Here is the talk I gave in November, in case that should interest you:

Good morning! My name is Emily and I am a member of the Franciscan Volunteer Ministry, which is a yearlong volunteer program that has placed me at the St. Francis Inn, a soup kitchen in northern Philadelphia. I have been working at the Inn and living a few houses away from it since the middle of August. In the past 2 ½ months, I have been blessed to share in the lives of hundreds of my brothers and sisters in the Kensington region of Philadelphia. From celebrating birthdays, new jobs, new apartments, and new relationships to struggling with addictions, car accidents, violence, and the loss of jobs, apartments, and relationships I have seen so much in such a short time.

Until I came to Philadelphia, I had no concept of who “the poor” were. In the tiny town where I grew up, it seemed to me that everyone had a house to go home to at night and food on their dinner table. I had seen people sleeping on park benches and in subway stations when I visited New York City, but I naively assumed that they were the only poor people out there. Now that I have been living in Philadelphia, I have come to find that while I have all the material items once could ever need, I am poor. My friends and family back home-all poor. My fellow volunteers at the Inn are also all poor. You, my brothers and sisters, are also most likely poor in one way or another. I am poor in courage-other people at the Inn step right in to break up a fight or stand up to difficult people-not me. I’m the one standing in the corner with my hands over my eyes waiting for it to be over. But my point is, where I am poor, others are rich. I have the patience to sit and listen to people talk for hours, where others may be unable to. Our guests at the Inn are poor in their material needs, but are rich in humor and humility. There is a regular guest who refuses to tell me his name, but will intelligently discuss philosophy and ethics with anyone who will dare to take him on. Another guest is so rich in love that he greets me every day with a huge smile and says “Good morning sweetie,” and actually means it. On days when it is hard for me to be cheerful, he can always get a smile out of me.

Once I came to understand this concept of rich and poor, it was so much easier for me to see the people I serve meals to daily as my brothers and sisters, all created with the same purpose: to love God and one another. I changed from being one of the crowd who would scoff at Zacchaeus in today’s Gospel reading to one who would rejoice with him that the Lord picked him out of the crowd. Another experience I had recently brought this idea even closer to my heart, but let me explain a little bit about the Inn first. We serve a sit-down meal every day, and large amounts of time and work go into the preparation of each meal. Each day, one person is in charge of coordinating it all, and is called, ironically, the coordinator. The coordinator sees to it that there are beverages and desserts, as well as bread for our guests to take home. The coordinator also assigns jobs and oversees any visiting volunteers, and just generally makes sure things run smoothly. On top of all that, during the meal, guests can speak with the coordinator to ask for toiletries, take home meals, canned goods, diapers, and anything else that they might need.

This past week when I was coordinating the meal for the day, we had finished serving the meal and were beginning to sweep the dining room when Jamie, one of the women who works at the Inn, called me over to talk to the only guest left in the dining room. I was ready to close up and go home for the day and part of me was hoping I could just inform him that we were closing and show him to the door. As I got near him, I saw that he was slumped over in his chair, barely eating. I sat down across from him and asked if there was anything I could do for him. He explained to me that his name was Francisco and when he had been sleeping outside the night before, someone had stolen his shoes. I looked beneath the table and saw that he was wearing a pair of too-small, black, women’s orthopedic shoes, which he told me were all he could find. His socks were so filthy that you could barely tell they were originally white. He asked me if I could get him clean socks and shoes that fit. When I brought him a pair of socks I explained to him that we don’t keep shoes at the Inn, but that I could give him a voucher for shoes from the thrift store. The Inn also staffs a small thrift store called St. Benedict’s, as a means to get clothes to our guests that need them. Three mornings a week we hand out vouchers that entitle the bearer to one free change of clothing from the thrift store and our guests can also request things they need, like jackets, blankets and, most importantly for Francisco, shoes.

I asked Francisco for his ID so that I could write his name correctly on the voucher. He again hung his head. He told me his ID had also been stolen and he had nothing. He very slowly fished around in one of his pockets and produced a hospital bracelet, which indicated he had been discharged just two days prior to the day I met him. I saw something else on the bracelet that made me pause. He was born in 1979, the same year as my oldest brother. I instantly thought of my brother, Andy, and imagined him sitting in front of me-dirty, hungry, depressed. What would I want someone to do for him? The idea of him in the state in which I saw Francisco made me want to cry, but also made me all the more determined to try to help Francisco. I explained to him the services the Inn provides: meals, toiletries, clothing vouchers. I also told him about the free clinic just up the street that allows people to come in and take showers. I helped Francisco pack up the rest of his food, offering him a little more to take with him, which he refused. I don’t know if Francisco used his clothing voucher to get new shoes. I don’t know if he made it to the clinic. I do know, however, that I did everything I could to help him, just as I would have wanted someone to do for my own brother. Because, really, Francisco is my brother, just as you are all my brothers and sisters as well.

Our first reading today speaks of the intense love that God has for all that He has created. It is with this same love that he also designed each one of us in a special way so that our wealth and poverty would be balanced by the wealth and poverty of others. He designed us as many parts of the same body, each made to help the others, which is what we do at the St. Francis Inn. The Inn is a place where people are loved and appreciated for who they are, not what they have or don’t have. We share what we have and make it possible for others to share what they have with those who need it.

Counting my blessings

It is shocking to me that 2008 has begun already. It seems like 2007 lasted mere moments. It could not possibly have lasted long enough to hold a college graduation, a trip to Indiana, a trip to Alaska (followed shortly by a month-long illness), one more (and probably my final) summer at Guggenheim, and the beginning of a life-altering volunteer experience. Add to that one of my favorite semesters of college, soooo many great times with wonderful family and friends, innumerable heart-to-heart conversations, and one of the best Christmases that I can remember. I'm not sure why I am so blessed, but I know I have so much to be thankful for in my life.

Christmas in Kensington brought constant reminders of how loved and cared for I am, with visits from my family, gifts from friends, and festivities with the staff. Our site supervisor, Fr. Michael, surprised us by taking us out last night (New Year's Eve) to see Stomp at a theater downtown. Then tonight, he took us out to a nice dinner and gave us our ridiculous Christmas gifts-I will wait until I can post pictures to fill you in on what they are. But my point is, Christmas here was incredible and I am so glad that I decided to stay and that my family could be with me here.

Today, though, was my wake-up call. It was a very difficult day. I was reassured that all is not well with the world or the people in it. There is a man who is in recovery at the Last Stop across the street who comes to our daily Mass who is schizophrenic. We have recently learned that guys staying there aren't allowed to take drugs of any kind-including prescriptions. The past couple weeks we've watched this man displaying more and more symptoms of his disorder and today during Mass I frequesntly caught him staring at me. While I worked in the yard, I saw him standing in the middle of the street yelling obscenities at nothing. He came into the yard briefly, stared at me angrily for a few minutes then left. His instability is quickly becoming a concern for the team. Another man who obviously suffers from some type of mental problem came into the yard today to take off his shoes, play with his feet, and yell at the sky. The coordinator brought him a bag of food and asked him to move, but he hung around the gate for the rest of the meal, harrassing another guest who isn't allowed into the yard because he is also mentally unstable. The 2 almost came to blows at one point, but luckily I was able to defuse the situation. The first man, however, continued to yell for the next couple hours out in the street and I can still hear him in my head. His cries sounded like a mixture of pain and anger and were awful to listen to.

Another guest who I have described before, Rocky, I have recently learned probably suffers abuse, likely sexual, and at the hands of other men. I saw him today for the first time since I was told that and almost cried. He is so kind to us at the Inn, always helpful and loving; it breaks my heart that he undergoes that and I just have no idea how to help. He said a few things to me today that lead me to believe that it could be true. It makes me wonder what else our guests go through that we would have no idea about. Obviously, I don't know even close to everything about any of our guests, but knowing that there is probably so much more to them than what I pick up on by seeing them for a couple hours everyday worries me. Which one of our guests is turning tricks or being abused tonight? Which one is getting in a fight? Which one is passing out helpless on the sidewalk after getting way too high? It is awful to know that these things are probably all happening, if not to our guests, then to someone else right this second. The only thing we can do to show our love and concern is pray for them and welcome them back tomorrow with kind words and open arms.