Spirit On The Margins

Another inspirational story from one of our volunteers.

This morning I was facilitating a spirituality group at a drug/alcohol treatment center. Yesterday a man who was a participant in the recovery program died in his room at the center. Many of the men in the group I was facilitating knew him well. A new man came to the group today, who I believe was an alumni of the treatment program, who I’ll call Paul. He had felt an inner nudge from God to come to the group today, after he finished working a 3rd shift at the Metrodome. Paul has been sober for 4 years, but he came back today to give back to others.

Another man in the group said he’d had a nagging feeling that he was supposed to ask Paul to be his sponsor (mentor) for his recovery program, but he hadn’t seen Paul in a while. So when Paul showed up this morning and sat next to him, he saw that as an answer to prayer.

Paul spoke in the group about the intimacy of his relationship with God, and about the joy he found in it.  He emphasized that expressing our emotions and thoughts to God is key to cultivating the relationship, just as we would with a friend.

Paul’s presence spoke deeply to me, and many of the men there, who were grieving about the man who died yesterday.

We are so blessed to have such dedicated and soulful volunteers who provide spiritual companionship to persons who find themselves on the margins of society. It is such a gift to City House and to persons on the margins to have them as part of our community.

Recently, we conducted a survey of those volunteers and asked them to reflect upon their experience. Here are some quotes to some key questions that were asked. 27 current, past, and prospective volunteers responded.

What about volunteering with City House is life giving:

The stories! The opportunity to listen to people I would not otherwise meet. The challenge I have each week of quelling my fear and anxiety about meeting strangers. Intimacy with another person.  It is a time of goodness.

It often seems as I leave the prison that our session was mutual.  I have much to ponder as I think about the starkness and confinement of the prison and the freedom and presence of God in our conversations.  Many inner and outer contrasts.  I find I care very much about the woman I see – it’s a mutual friendship.

The depth of prayer and honesty in the group. It is one of the most life giving things that I’m a part of.  The care that the men have for each other during that time is so life giving to me.

Remaining present to personal suffering without trying to fix things is spiritual work and humbling.  Experiencing pain among the marginalized.  Remaining vulnerable in ambiguous situations. Keeping my heart open.

These women inspire me in their determination (some, not all), generosity, hopefulness, admission of wrongdoing.  Simply creating space that allows them to speak their truth to themselves and each other is a beautiful thing to be part of.

My time with City House as been one of the most deepening experiences. Learning to just be with the poor, listening and loving them. Bringing hope and love of our God.  Letting God work first with me.

What about volunteering wiht City House is life draining?

Knowing that it is hard to break through life-long habits and behavior and that my presence may not make much difference for many of them.

Struggles with boundaries – i.e. how much to get involved in someone’s life, tendency toward care taking. Recognizing the reality of helplessness, even hopelessness in other’s lives touches into fears about my own.

Sometimes I forget and wnat to take care of the participant when all I need to do is listen and be supportive in words and prayers.  Listening to the obstacles (government) they have to literally push thru at times gets frustrating.

I have been unable to figure out how to move beyond my own fear and pain surrounding this population and so have not pursued additional volunteer work with City House, but I still hold some kind of interest and plan to keep holding it till I know what to do next.

Would you recommend City House volunteeing to others?

Yes. It is a joy to work with folks on the margins who can teach we middle class folks so much about trust, perseverance, and overcoming adversity.

I have, Iwould and I do.  Volunteering with City House moves me out of my comfort zone to share the gift I have of listening, being with, accepting, loving another.  The barriers of race, gender, life style, accents, life experience, religious denomination, wealth, employment (or lack thereof) fall away.

I would and have recommended City House volunteering to experienced spiritual companions.  It’s a place to enlarge our view of God and God’s love and look inwardly with a new perspective.  One can grow in gratefulness and compassion and learn to see God in all people.

Yes, there are few opportunities to connect with people on the margins of society through relationships of dignity and respect.

I love the programs and enrichment opportunities City House offers to volunteers.  I also love how they offer support and then encourage us to follow Spirit.  I believe they do everything possible to make our work an enriching life experience.

Can you see why City House staff finds it so rewarding to work with this group of people as volunteers. It is so rewarding!!

Another story from one of our volunteer spiritual companions who serves at a domestic abuse shelter.

Ginny entered the room and her friend said, “she dragged me here to see you, she said it would be good for me,” Cindy said grudgingly. We talked about their frustrations of the last week regarding; finding suitable housing (“it’s hard to get housing with 4 felons one said), the school uniform of her daughter’s that was stolen from Ginny’s room last night, and finally the violence against them by the men they had just left.

A long pause and Cindy said, “My Momma was a faithful woman and she always said “You gotta forgive and forget,” but I’m having lots of trouble doing that, what’s wrong?” I won’t go into all the details but it was a very rich interchange. Reassuring them it was ok not to forget. . . and as I had them explore what forgiveness meant to them, as they understood it, Cindy didn’t know, as she was still ‘hopping mad’ at the sting of abuse that she and her daughter still felt. I said to Ginny who was slouched in her chair looking uninterested, “What does forgiveness mean for you?” After a long pause, and pushing her hood back off her face for the first time, she said in a quiet voice, “I think you just finally forgive for your own self cause you don’t want to give that person any more of your energy.”

Wow, I thought, I am blessed to be here today— to have been informed and touched by this woman.

To view evocative videos about stories of forgiveness:

A Lesson in Forgiveness

A Lesson in Forgiveness

This piece of reflection comes to us from Mary Gallagher, another City House volunteer who serves as a listening presence among the homeless. Thanks Mary!!

A Memorial

so little

yet so much

The basement room was filled, on that rainy evening with folks who had come to the local Catholic Church for a free meal, an educational session and spiritual direction.  As a spiritual director, I felt honored to be there.  I often thought I received more from the individuals I talked with in a spiritual direction session than I could ever possibly give to them. 

As I walked into the church, I glanced up to see Sarah and her beloved dog.  She had a forlorn look in her eyes.  “Here,” she said, “Read this article.”  I glanced at the newspaper article and remembered seeing it in the newspaper a few days earlier.  “A Brutal Homicide,” was the title.  The article told of a homeless man who had been murdered by the Mississippi River for his possessions.  “Robert was my friend,” she said. “I wish we could do something here for him.”  Robert, the deceased man, had attended a few sessions of our educational program at the church.  Many of the program participants were acquainted with him on the street or had met him at a drop in center.  As Sarah continued to talk, she expressed her desire to have a memorial service for Robert.

At the end of the evening session, I spoke with the program facilitator regarding Sarah’s request. We decided to have a prayer service for Robert at our gathering the following week. 

When I arrived the next week, the newspaper article that Sarah had been carrying in her hand the week before was pinned to a bulletin board next to some pink, plastic flowers and a sympathy card.  I noticed people reading the newspaper article about Robert as they gathered in small groups around the board, many shaking their head in disbelief.  At the end of the evening, we all joined hands in a circle… all ages, all nationalities, and all the poorest of the poor, who mainly live in shelters, low income housing or on the street. The facilitator invited anyone who wanted, to say a few words about Robert.  Sarah, along with some others, shared their thoughts about this kind Native American they had met at a shelter.  “A thoughtful man, a man who loved basketball, a defender of the underdog,” was just a few of the comments that filled the air. As tears flowed we said the Our Father and then read in unison,

He will raise you up on eagle’s wings

Bear you on the breath of dawn,

Make you to shine like the sun

And hold you in the palm of His hand…

                                                            Isaiah 40:31

As the reading ended, tears changed to smiles as thirty-five caring individuals broke into a rousing applause as a final good-bye to Robert, a soul whose tragedy had gifted them with an opportunity to share what they had the most of….love.

For me this was a simple but powerful memorial.  These heartfelt expressions of shared memories allowed God’s grace and love to transform their grief into a bond of healing and caring for one another.  I was blessed to be a part of this special moment.

Basilica St. Mary’s Minneapolis Pathways Program

Jim Dodge, City House’s Founder

These are excerpts from a sermon delivered by Jim Dodge, City House’s founder.

A few months ago I received an email from a clergy colleague asking if I could see the light at the end of the tunnel.  I replied back that no, I will still living in the darkness with no light at the end in sight.

My friend had heard that I had been dealing for a long time with a pressure related wound that just would not heal.  And even as I come before you today a part of that wound is still not healed after almost two years since it first started. 

Forty years ago I was serving in the Army in Vietnam.  Like many others I was exposed to the chemical called Agent Orange.  A few years after that exposure I was diagnosed with cancer, the treatment for which caused nerve damage, which then weakened the muscles in my legs.  That weakness became so significant over time that I have had to rely exclusively on a wheelchair for my mobility. 

One of the consequences of continual sitting is that one is prone to develop pressure wounds.  Without adequate feeling for a warning, these things happen.  As much as one tries to be careful with shifting weight and checking skin color, pressure ulcers occur and that’s just the way life is for those who use wheel chairs. 

The one that I am currently dealing with is in the sacrum area of my body, just above the tailbone.  After the surgeon finished the initial operation of removing the unhealthy tissue, I had an opening about 6 inches long, 4 inches wide and 1 inch deep.  I was absolutely devastated and sank into a darkness that shut down my life.  I was told that I had to lie in bed on my stomach or side.  I had to be in positions where no pressure was put on the wound.  My whole life came to a screeching halt as I found myself homebound with all my plans and activities cancelled. 

At first I was in denial about the extensiveness of this whole thing.  Give me a couple of months, I told myself, and I’ll be OK.  But healing didn’t happen by the timelines I set for myself. I would spiral down even more and often found myself in a deep abyss weeping uncontrollably. 

In the course of all of this I found myself arguing with God.  I would demand some action.  Do something.  Fix this.  You who raised Christ from the dead could certainly heal a wound.  I would remind God that people were praying for me.  Do you hear them, God?  Are you deaf? 

On and on this one-sided conversation would go.  When I finally calmed down enough to listen, I heard a quiet voice within me say, “Trust me, Jim.”   “Well, God”, I said, “ if that is indeed you speaking to me, could you give me some more details, like how long this will be, and could I see some evidence of some healing.”  All I heard back was “trust me”. 

Meanwhile the wound was not healing.  I needed more surgery.  The great medical device called a wound VAC was not closing it like everyone thought it would. I went through 40 treatments at the hyperbaric chamber hoping to get a better blood supply to the wound.  I changed doctors.  A skin graft was done.  Days became weeks that became months.  Will this ever end?  My faith and trust in God seemed strong one day and weak the next.  I was on an emotional roller coaster.  As much as I wanted to stay the course trusting God, I often found myself in the darkness. 

And so I continued to wait in the darkness believing that hope does not hurry and that the deepest truths are revealed in waiting.  Each day I would seek to surrender more and more to the grace and love of God.

I wanted to believe that everything has the potential of calling forth in us a deeper response to our life in God.

I tried to see each day as a gift and enjoy that day and not get caught up thinking about that future day when all would be well.   An unlikely friend helped me see that.  My friend’s name is Elwood.  He grew up in the projects of Chicago.  His whole family was drug addicts.  He came to Minneapolis, but continued drinking and using, engaged in criminal activity and was jailed. He was living in the darkness of addiction and crime.  After being released from prison he stumbled drunk into the Salvation Army in downtown Minneapolis.  There, when his life was at the bottom, he surrendered everything to God.  He started going to AA, got a minimum wage job and was determined that he was not going to slip back to his old life.  

I met him at his job site where I led a spirituality group.  He came week after week holding on to the hope that God would somehow take care of him.  He’s been sober 6 years now and proudly wears his medallion around his neck.  I meet with him periodically and see a man who is still living on the edge financially and whose life is still pretty fragile, but is always positive.  “How do you do it, Elwood?” I ask.  “I just trust God, Jim,” he replies.  And I’m humbled that this high school drop out living in poverty seems to have a deeper faith than this seminary trained pastor living a comfortable middle class life.

Elwood Williams’ Story

Over time my wound started healing bit by bit.  The doctor gave me permission to be up more and more.   The darkness had lifted a bit, but the cloud of uncertainty of when this will finally be over is still there.  

I’m coming to believe that no matter what my physical state might be, on the inside, within the depths of my soul, God is at work renewing me.  I’m coming to believe that I, like the Apostle Paul, am one of those who is weak, who is poor in spirit, aware of my own emptiness.  And, in admitting such a state of my life, I allow God to fill me with His love and grace and then paradoxically become one of the strong ones.  Paul, dealing with his own thorn in the flesh, realized that God’s grace was indeed sufficient for him.  And in his weakness became strong.   

We held our annual City House celebration for all of our constituents on Thursday night.  It was an opportunity to celebrate what our City House community has done together this past year and what God is doing through us – with our volunteers, program participants, social service agency partners, “Will You Drink From This Cup?” program learners and participants, board members, donors, and friends.

We started out by remembering that our theme for last year’s celebration was “The Most Dangerous Prayer Of All? Yes” based on a poem, “Dangerous Prayers”, by Regina Sara Ryan. The essence of the poem invites us to live dangerously by inviting God to do whatever it is that God wants to do in our lives. It was a year ago, that we acknowledged at City House our need for a year of discernment – a year in which we prayed and listened openly and honestly about where God would have us go.

As a consequence, we ended up saying “yes” to some significant commitments that have taken us in new directions. City House test piloted an outcomes measurement system with the support of the Otto Bremer Foundation, that will now allow us to observe what God is up to in our core volunteer program of providing spiritual companionship for and with the poor.

We conducted our first inner city pilgrimmage in partnership with Christos Center for Spiritual Formation. That retreat opened our eyes to the possiblity of a mission expansion – that we had as much to offer the mainstream world as we did the persons who find themselves on the margins of society. It led us to moving from a mission of “tending to the spiritual lives of the poor, inspring hope” to a mission of  ”connecting the mainstream and margins for mutual spiritual growth and transformation.”

That shift in mission in turn led us to the development of the “Will You Drink From This Cup?” pilot program, just completed – where mainstream learners entered into relationships with “friends” on the margins of society so that both parties might grow spiritually.

We followed this celebration of the year in review in which we said “yes”, by reflecting on our shared poverty of spirit, whether mainstream or societally marginalized. We read and reflected on the Macrina Wiederkehr poem, “Blessed are the Poor in Spirit”, as a way to best express that sentiment. Marcina Wiederkehr web site

Small groups then reflected on and shared personal stories around the following questions:

Question: Describe a time in your life when you were full of a false idea(s), and then came to discover the truth. What happened?

Question: Describe a time in your life when you felt small, powerless, and needy. How, if at all, did that time open your heart? How, if at all, did it become a time of blessing?

Question: Describe a time in your life when you were forced to let go of your plans and your timing and had to wait on God. What happened?

Question: Describe a time in your life when you finally realized that you needed to rely on God and you felt good about it. What happened?

“Will You Drink This Cup?” program learner, Angelie Ryah- Dahn then shared her story about her friendship with a woman from Central Avenue Apartments.  Then, one of the participants from Reentry Metro, VJ, shared her story about being a friend to one of the program learners. She was unable to be present for the celebration, and so, her thoughts were read to us from something she had written up.

“I was very grateful to be accepted as I am.  The caring spirit and kindful heart of her friendship to understand me was a blessing. What was a touching experience was when we both connected and were able to grow with each other.  During our meetings in small steps we supported each other in healing through our brokenness.”

“Everytime you shed a tear, you are healing your own soul.  In every tear drop, there is a rainbow, whch is a promise from God.  I am committed to share my life with anyone who wants to talk about it.  The bad and good.  I do this in honor and memory of my brother Jr. Thank you City House!! (Thank you VJ!!!)”

Finally, we asked program participants to come forward and personally bless each of our volunteer spiritual companions for their gift of listening on the margins of society. Jim Dodge, our founder, closed with prayer. Once again, the sense of community among this diverse group of people was palpable. I am grateful to be a part of it.

Our topic at our last “Will You Drink From This Cup?” program was pain and suffering. Our guest presenters were Trindad and Terry Shaughnessy. Terry is a City House spiritual companion volunteer and has developed a long term relationship with Trinidad, an immigrant from the Caribbean island of Trinidad, that found himself homeless in the streets of St Paul.  (See City House newsletter article written by Terry, “Reflections on a day with homelessness” about his day on the streets of St Paul with Trinidad.) 

Reflections on a day

The use of childern as soldiers is a human rights violation in various parts of the world. Apparently, that is also true in the history of the nation of Trinidad.

trinidad-child-soldiers

Trinidad (the person presenting at our session) talked about becoming a soldier at age 12.  His parents were murdered when he was 17. For his entire adult life, he has had flashbacks of his earlier life as a child soldier.  At one point, the flashbacks were so severe that he could not sleep for 30 days.  Eventually, the father of a friend brought him to the United States.

He wound up sleeping on the floor of the Dorothy Day homeless shelter in St Paul for 7 months.  “I would sleep for only 2 hours a night, while I was there. I would get up and clean up the park and the streets as a way to deal with my anger and pain about where I was in life.”

“When I was young, hatred kept me alive, but not now.  Now I am a soldier of kindness, happiness, and humor.  I am a survivor. I learned that I could survive any situation.”  Today, Trinidad is known on the streets of St Paul as an ambassador that people trust.  His trademark is humor and he likes to use it to defuse even the most difficult situations and the meanest people he encounters.  ”You dropped something mam,” he says to one of the learners in our class, as he points at the floor. As the woman looks down he says, ”your smile.”  I’ve heard him use this one so often, it has lost its charm on me.  But, it seems to work on this woman.

Terry, our City House volunteer, talked about what he has learned from Trinidad.  Trinidad has taught him about the importance of the use of humor and how to put people at ease. When asked by a learner about the biggest obstacle he had to overcome in his relationship with Trinidad, he says, “fear.”

Terry and Trinidad make it clear to each other in front us that they have a deep appreciation and even love for each other. They both acknowledged the size of the other’s heart.

What a blessed evening.

At our City House education session last week, Janice Andersen, the Director of Christian Life at the Basilica of St. Mary’s in Minneapolis was our speaker.  One of her responsibilities is leading the St Vincent DePaul program that serves the poor. It is in that context that City House partners and provides volunteer spiritual companionship for persons who find themselves poor. We asked Janice to tell her own story about how she came to work with the poor and how her own spirituality had been shaped by that work.

Basilica St Mary’s Minneapolis

Janice was articulate, passionate, and vulnerable. She acknowledged, to my surprise, that she herself is someone who is in chemical dependency recovery.  “I could just as easily be one of those persons we serve here at the Basilica in our drop in homeless shelter,” she explained.  “My connection to the poor grounds me and reminds me of the vulnerability and hope of life. They remind me that the more I can accept myself the more I can accept others. They teach me that my tendency towards independence is a defeat and a loss – that my independence leads me to pride.” 

I have always known Janice to be a person of spiritual depth and so passionate about her work. At the end of her presentation, I felt more human, and inspired by her sense of purpose. Thank you Janice for who you are and for all that you do.

Last weekend the learners from the “Will You Drink From This Cup?” program went on a one day inner city pilgrimage. We heard this amazing story from a guest by the name of Wayne at the Dorothy Day Center in downtown St. Paul. 

Wayne was trained as a mechanical engineer and employed by a well known engineering firm. He flew all over the country in his consulting engineering role. When his mother had a stroke, he chose to care for her. Her condition worsened as she moved into her 80s, and he finally quit his job to care for her full time.

In 2001, after he and his mother had used up all of their assets, she went into a nursing home, and for the first time in his life, Wayne became homeless. That’s when he became a guest of the Dorothy Day Center, a drop in homeless shelter.  Just recently, he finally got his life back together and has his own apartment.

“Will You Drink This Cup?” program learners at Dorothy Day 

He is one of the most articulate and well educated persons I have ever met in the sites which City House serves. He is known around Dorothy Day for mentoring younger guys and volunteering to do all kinds of odd jobs.

It was striking to hear him say, “Many of us are only a paycheck away from being homeless.”  It is the first time that I felt my own fear of being homeless disappear. I could see that Wayne, someone like me, had survived it and had even grown through the experience.

Tears of sorrow running from a statue of Mary, the mother of Jesus 

One of the sites at which we serve as spiritual companions is Harriet Tubman Family Alliance. This program includes residential facilities for women that have been victimized by domestic abuse. This story was told by one of our volunteers.

“I arrived at the domestic abuse shelter open to whomever might attend the spirituality group.  Well after ten mintues no one showed up, which happens.  So I decided to be available to anyone hanging out in the community space.”

“I started talking to a small child and she was willing to talk to me too.  Her mother said, ‘My daughter really likes you, you’re fun.  What are you here for?’  Realizing this was an opening, I said, ‘I am a volunteer who leads a spirituality group but nobody came so I decided to just hang out.’  The woman asked ‘Could I still attend the group?’– ‘Oh sure — we still have time.’  She invited three others and we had a group of five.” “The group was very connected, open and deep.  Two of the women really had issues that they needed to share about and needed our open and listening hearts.  Another woman was very spirited and had a lot to say about her strength and hope that comes only from her faith in God.”

“We were praying at the end and the women asked if there was anything about which I needed prayer.  So I told them my father just had another stroke and that I was going to leave tomorrow to visit him in Florida.  I opened up more and said this visit was going to be hard. While my intentions are to be there for my father, he is usually quite critical of me.  These women said the most precious prayer for me after they heard my concern and it brought tears to my eyes.  They were ministering to me.”

Once again, we find ourselves being amazingly blessed by those we come to serve.  The experience is mutual when we all show up to the presence of God in each other.