Home-Less

Before I left New York, I wanted to give back to the community as I've been abundantly blessed with insight and experiences while living and working there. So when a volunteer opportunity came up at the church I've been attending, I jumped on the idea without hesitation.

Well, the hesitation actually came later on as this was an event to reach out and invite the homeless to a BBQ the church was having in a nearby park. I've done the Mustard Seed back home before, so I didn't think this would be too hard or uncomfortable, but I was wrong.

After a quick orientation after service, we were split up into groups with a leader who is part of the homeless outreach ministry at this church. I found out that every Sunday morning before service, this ministry goes out to talk and engage with those that are homeless in the area where the church resides. I was quite surprise that they did this so early on a weekly basis, but also humbled by their heart to do so. So each group was given a map and a designated area to "find" homeless people and invite them to this BBQ we were having later in the day. FYI, the area the church is in is Upper West NYC, a relatively rich area near the Ivy League school Columbus and the famous music school Julliard. Thus, the sight of homeless people wasn't as obvious as say Midtown or Times Square where tourists are abundant.

Going through this process of seeking and confronting homeless made me realize my lack of awareness and all the stereotypical judgements I had of the less fortunate. When I first observed my leader approach a homeless person, I questioned why she was being so bubbly and over-the-top happy as I felt like that would turn people away from her, but I soon realized that it wasn't how she was communicating, but how I wasn't comfortable doing what she was doing. She would always introduce herself first and put her hand out for the homeless person to shake and give her their name, but when it came to my turn, I had my hesitations.

Hesitant because I felt like they were dirty and unclean and by shaking their hand, I would be dirty. As quickly as this thought came up, I felt terrible because I was reminded that I'm not any better as a person just because I'm well washed and clean. I was totally judging on this person I hadn't even met because of their exterior and physical image. How ignorant and shallow was I? But once I shook their hand, a revelation had set fire in my mind that they're probably more scared than I was. It's  probably rare for people to talk to them like this, let alone shake their hand; they probably thought they were more unworthy than I was thinking of them.

As the BBQ neared, we were able to find and invite more homeless people than we thought. Some didn't care for what we had to say, others blew me away with their bible knowledge and were eager to share stories. I will never forget this one African American that came out to the BBQ. He's from Harlem and has been a New Yorker for fifty years. He's literally a walking GPS of the city, from street names to where all the buildings are. Not only was his knowledge impressive, he had a great sense of humor and interacted with everyone at the church like friends. There was no difference talking to him versus conversing with any other new acquaintance. I was also very impress with the church members present and their interactions with the homeless as if they did this all the time. I felt bad for his situation, but also glad that there is help available for him. He broke off all the naive thoughts and stupidity I had of the homeless and towards the end, those of us chatting with him asked him to take a photo with us. What he said next to us was utterly inhumane,

"I'm glad you guys asked for a photo and not like those reporters/media that just take photos of me and next thing you know it ends up on the front of the newspaper..."

Needless to say, I'm so thankful I got to have this opportunity to serve. It was more than giving back, and more than community service. I got to step out of another level of my comfort zone and make myself vulnerable to those I walk by daily and never took the time to stop and care for.

Please send a prayer for the homeless population of NYC.

Golden

I've been looking forward to turning twenty two on the twenty second of August for as long as I can remember. I don't know why, but turning the age of your birth-date seemed pretty cool to me, perhaps that's why its called the "golden" one huh? I guess it was sort of golden turning a year older on the plane ride home for the first time and seeing the Northern lights right before landing. Though, I am quite tired and overwhelmed with the quick transition of being back in Edmonton.

I mean, I felt ready to come home before even leaving New York, and I honestly didn't mind the delay I had on the plane ride back, but my mind feels bombarded with so many people, places, and issues going on in my ahead right now. Maybe its jet lag, or I'm getting a bit delirious from coming back to so many surprises, but I'm slightly not at ease with being home. And its for this reason that I don't feel I'm turning another year older today (that is until I renewed my drivers license and finally replaced the photo of my fifteen year old self, woot! plus finding out that I actually grew taller over the past  6 1/2 years yay?!).

My mind was so preoccupied that I had even forgotten a year long commitment I had made on my twenty first birthday had ended. There's just so much going on and I wish I got to appreciate today more as I do previous birthdays. I actually have no plans, nothing to look forward to, and a couple of things are still up in the air for the next few days.

Its a good thing that God made birthdays to last a whole year, and not just one day, so that I have the next 365 days to rejoice over my twenty second and make it as memorable as every other age I have lived through. 

Happy Golden Year to me.

mid STUCK dle

Yes, goodbyes are never ever easy.

But, not even getting to say goodbye makes it even harder.

I've never felt so torned from leaving a place and heading back home. Sometimes I wish I could be in two places at the same time or have the power of teleportation to travel between locations in the blink of an eye. Residing in a new place leads to new relationships being built in my social circle, which is why by the end of my time away from home, its not about the destination anymore, but about the friendships, intimacy, and memories that have been established there.

Sometimes timing just has it that you gain some, and you lose some. I just hate the feeling of knowing that some close friends back in Edmonton will be moving away for work or leaving from a visit before I get back. I know its not the end of the world and that our paths will surely cross again, but not knowing the when part really sucks.

As my departure draws near, a rush of nostalgia from my stay here in New York comes flooding, and the sappy me has me holding on tightly to every moment left to embrace. All the while, a growing anticipation leads my heart to go home already to see faces I've dearly missed, and me only wishing I could fly out earlier.

I never learn my lesson do I? I should just stop jet setting and calling cities I travel to and reside in "home" right? I feel I always leave a piece of me behind and when it comes to leaving, it only gets more difficult.

Now I know how my friends feel when I leave. My heart aches. Such bittersweetness.


Home is where the heart is. Wherever that may be.