Today I went to 'volunteer' at a church that ministers to the street involved and homeless community. I think I mentioned on here before that I have been wanting to get involved for a long time but haven't felt that the timing was right. This church is in the community where I am hoping to move to and the community has the highest rate of mental illness per capita in all of Canada. On Mondays they have a drop in meal for anyone to come and help prepare the meal, enjoy nutritious food and share with one another. I put volunteer in quotes because they think of volunteerism differently than most places. Volunteers are members of the community, not a separate group. The volunteers serve and are served, they work together. I was told ahead of time that spending time with the members of the community is the volunteer 'work' that needs to be done.
Being a shy introvert, I was quite anxious despite my excitement to get involved today. I am good at starting up conversations in groups but tend to forget this in anticipation of a new group setting. I worry about stumbling over my words or displaying my awkwardness or saying the wrong thing. Today held its own particular fears - this is a population I have never worked with before. What if I started to talk with a homeless person? What sorts of questions would I ask him or her? The usual questions of where does one work or live seemed to be insensitive to a population that most likely had neither. I was also anxious about preparing the meal - would I know what to do? what if I did it wrong? I am proficient in the kitchen, but what if I messed up in this setting?
When I got there, I was introduced as being the first time for me here (and so everyone was told to be nice to me!). The women in the kitchen welcomed me warmly and started giving me directions as to what to do. In my nervousness, I asked what the best way to cut a tomato was (for a salad) - the woman calmly showed me and said that there was no right or wrong way and encouraged me. One man made me a cup of coffee. Another man looked out for me when the cook was pouring a pot of rapini into the sink to be strained - he didn't want me to get burned from the splashing of the boiling hot water. Each time someone interacted with me they used my name.
Then the time came when I was tempted to bolt. The cook told me that all the work in the kitchen was done and that I should relax, get a cup of coffee and talk with the other community members. I found a table with several people sitting at it and I am so thankful that I pushed myself to step outside of my own comfort zone. I had the opportunity to learn stories of what life was like for these people. Stories of how they try with everything within them to survive. I watched as each member came in and the other members warmly welcomed them and asked them how they were and how they would care for each other. I saw tears of someone who was in physical pain but could not get help because she did not have a health card - something that I have taken for granted.
I think they blessed me more than I blessed them. Whenever they introduced themselves to me, I would respond with letting them know that this was my first time here. Rather than me coming up with the questions to ask, they asked me about what I do and where I live and about my life. They put me at ease. Also, there is a honesty and vulnerability that they displayed - they talk frankly about their lives. They talk about frankly about matters that people of higher social classes work hard to keep secret or deny completely. And they accepted each other in their vulnerabilities and weaknesses. They accepted me in my anxiety and awkwardness. They made me feel welcome and told me about their community and explained how it works. One woman told me that the only one who knows her completely is Jesus. He knows her every need. Amen.
Then, when I was walking to the bus, I saw several of the men who were in the drop in. I tell you, it makes you look at those on the street differently when you have eaten with them.
Got me thinking. At some point, a mother held each one of them in her arms and had dreams for them. Each one was once a child who liked to play. Each one is made in the image of God. Each one has a part to play in the kingdom of God.
I am excited and anxious to get involved in this ministry. It will be challenging I am sure and stretch me beyond my comfort zone. But I think it will be good for me. I have a feeling I may receive more than I am able to give. But then, isn't that often the way when we try to do God's work?
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