“Have you ever seen a more adorable baby in your life,” one said to the pastor as she approached the group.

“Well yes!,” she replied. ” And so have all of us who have had them.”

For a split second I found myself almost heartbroken that someone wouldn’t resoundingly agree that I brought THE most beautiful child into the world. But as i got used to the idea, it occurred to me that she was saying much more than any of the “oohs” and “ahhs” ever would.

Those who know me well are aware that I often refer to Micah Ministries as my first born. For a good while, my own mother was convinced she would never be a grandmother to anything other than this little 501c3 in Fredericksburg. And until February this year, the people Micah serves, most old enough to be my mother, father or sometimes grandparent, have been my only children. For them, I’ve spent my waking hours, and many when I should be sleeping, researching solutions, planning for outcomes, creating opportunities and finding resources for the sole purpose of ending their homelessness in Fredericksburg.  And because of that effort this “baby” of mine has grown from a helpless, grunting concept to one that walks, talks and impacts the lives of others.

But now that I have a biological child of my own, I’ve come to appreciate my “first children” and their plight all the better. While gazing into the perfect face of my little man, I have considered more than once how every person, even my homeless friends, start their life as something just as sweet and innocent.  Some mother, somewhere, swore him or her, even for just a second, to be the best thing that had ever happened to her. And the rest of the world could show nothing on their faces for these children, but joy, happiness and love. But somewhere along the line, for our homeless, those heart-warming looks from the community turn to disgust, sadness and hate.

So if I’ve got this right…God gives us something incredibly perfect, and at the mercy of the world it either makes it or breaks it? Because they are an adult and should be making better decisions for themselves, they aren’t worth our time? That beautiful child that came into the world doesn’t matter anymore because the world got ahold of him or her and they just aren’t CUTE anymore?

Where have we gone wrong in understanding the blessing of every life?

A friend of mine, a doctor who has spent time in a delivery room or two, warned that I would learn the true meaning of John 3:16 when my own child entered the world. And oh, how right he was!

God may have so loved the world that he gave his only son,  but my soul rattles with just the idea of my child strapped to a cross to die, no matter what he did or what benefit it might bring about. When you become a mother, you not only realize the great gift a child is; you finally understand the sacrifice God made on our behalf. He gave us HIS child, knowing what the world would do to him, and He accepted that sacrifice, so that every baby from that point forward would be blessed.

I look at my son and, yes, I think he is the most adorable and wonderful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. But I acknowledge that so does every other mother, no matter what becomes of their children as adults. Even our homeless had mothers who realized the true miracle of life upon their child’s birth. “All of us who’ve had them,” know our babies have been given to us just the way they were supposed to be. At the mercy of the world, a lot of things can happen. Regardless, that original perfection never changes. Nor should our commitment to all of brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, born at the hand of God.

So what? Jesus raised a few dead guys, made some sick people well and made sure the party didn’t spoil for lack of wine.

Of course, that’s usually why the holy landers paid him a visit. But if the mission is to develop productive Christians who spend their days contributing to the fruitful work of the Holy Spirit,  skip all that hocus pocus stuff and get them on their knees!

An interesting strategy, maybe? But I’d bargain that two in every three knees that hit the floor wouldn’t have lasted much longer than the traveling Jesus team’s over night stay in a Jerusalem town.

Miracles gave Jesus an opportunity. It didn’t define his mission. Healing certainly got people’s attention. And it made them want what he had to offer so badly that they’d line up for days just to spend five minutes in his presence. He didn’t know them at all. But he loved them as brothers and sisters–each placed on this earth by the same Father. Of course he wanted to heal them. And the mental and physical pain he took from them did just that.

But let’s face it. Jesus had an ulterior motive. He came to save the world. (John 3:17)

Miracles certainly provided relief, nourishment and encouragement, but they really didn’t have a whole lot to do with what Jesus hoped his guests would take away from his encounter. No amount of healing alone could help the world to understand the life-time of responsibilities required by God’s call.

Considering Jesus and his marketing strategy, I’m not so sure Micah Ministries is taking all that different of an approach. Feeding, showering, clothing and meeting the most basic needs of those without, I think, are some of the most magical miracles of our modern times. With a meal, we cure a hungry belly. With a shower, we wash away a person without dignity. With a set of clothes, we straighten the back of one who could not be proud to be in public for the stains on his shirt or the holes in his shoes.

It’s certainly working for us. Our door is never shy of a person in need. But those miracles at their core, do not define our mission. We too, have an ulterior motive. If it takes a meal, a shower or pair of shoes to get a street man who doesn’t interact with people to cross our doors, so be it. For the hour he sits in our building, we get to know him and his needs. Soon, he trusts us enough to help him. He lets us take him to a psychiatrist. For the first time he starts to take medication. He decides to stop drinking. He begins to volunteer. One day, he gets a few hours work. Eventually, he’s working weeks at a time. And down the road, the little miracle that brought him to see us in the first place turns into a person with all the tools to move off the street and continue his journey as a valued member of society.

If that is a strategy that “enables” our homeless in anyway, I offer no apologies. Miracles, you see are just part of the process. Our men and women who sleep on the street tonight are the blind, the sick, the lame and the broken. How can we possibly expect them to believe we can help them with a job, a doctor a place to live or anything else, if we cannot address their most basic needs?

So go ahead, call us what you will. Name us, “soup kitchen enablers.” And accuse us of making it easy to be homeless. While you are caught up in our miracles, we are busy trying to save the world.

In the fall, the little pint of personality starts at kindergarten. Mama has anxiously been toting her to doctor’s appointments for check-ups and immunizations. They’ve been collecting gently-used children’s clothing from thrift stores and church closets, so that baby is dressed for the best throughout the school year. Lists of items needed before the first day have been made. And mom is more excited than child could ever be about school starting and the opportunity to volunteer in the classroom.

This story could have changed courses many times, and the possibility is high that it still could. But the striking force that has kept this story on track, has less to do with time and finances and much more to do with investment of energy in the person and the issues at hand.

It was three years ago that this mom and baby came to us with the prospect of sleeping on the street the coming night. For months prior, their story had spiraled downward. Starting with the child’s father leaving and the rent rising on the apartment they were living in, the pair had landed in a couch-hopping situation, dependant on how far mom’s social security check could stretch. The day they came to us in panic, was the day mom’s equally homeless boyfriend, who also managed her disability check, had refused to have anything else to do with her. Stuck with a mental handicap since birth, no access to her money and a child who needed a place to stay, she was in crisis.

For the next two weeks, Micah staff focused on housing applications, transferring money management responsibilities to someone who wouldn’t back out on her and supporting this mom and child in their various needs. More quickly than we imagined, the phone rang. She had been accepted in a subsidized neighborhood and could move in by week’s end, once security deposit and rent were in place. Even after the hotel rooms and basic financial needs from the preceding two weeks, she had enough left in her checking account… plus 4 cents.

We tend to look at homelessness, sometimes as a complicated mess full of people layered with challenges. Challenge after challenge often runs so deep that we see the whole picture and say these people just cannot be helped. The time, the money, the effort is simply overwhelming, if we consider the depths of their struggles all at once. It is only when we address each layer of their struggles that we can begin to peal them away and reveal the possibilities.

Meeting the needs of this mom and child took two weeks of relatively undivided attention. It cost $28, which covered the difference between the funds in her pocket and the price of a hotel room on the night she found out her boyfriend wasn’t going to help her any more. I’d be a liar to say the energy and effort on her case stopped the day she moved into an apartment. Plenty of transportation needs, parental guidance, household management advice, etc. continues to be rendered weekly for her to maintain her living situation.

But as I watch that little one cover her eyes on the playground, count as high as she knows how and forget that she is supposed to go find, not hide, I can’t help but feel reassured. It’s the excitement in mom’s face and the joy in that child’s laugh that makes me remember that any energy that Micah puts forth to keep their lives in tact…is more than worth it.

http://www.unspokenallies.com/

“December”

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“Before You Accuse Me”

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“Little Wing”

Click here to view the video on YouTube.

Sometimes naturally, sometimes tragically–they die

There’s the man who used to take the newer homeless under his wing and teach them how to survive.

And there’s that guy who finally got housing and almost lost it because he let anyone without place claim a spot on his floor.

There’s the fellow with the crutch who’d trade you his food stamps if you’d do the walking to get what he needed.

One was always dying of something, but finally passed from something he could have cured.

Another didn’t keep many friends, but somehow people always talk of the thing they own that used to belong to him.

There’s always something our street folk are privately remembered for.

And now there’s the guy who was tragically struck by a train last week.

He wasn’t homeless that long, but knew the community long enough to earn a reputation as the street’s gentle giant. He is remembered for watching over another who kept getting beat up. And some claim his words were the thing that made them decide to seek a better path.

But there is something different about this story that needs not to be lost.

Although his death be untimely and horrific, he gets to be mourned in the ways our world expects. Memorials, funerals, obituaries and tears. Flowers, crosses, prayers and honors.

As his story goes, he once owned a house, talked regularly with friends and family. And now that he’s gone, those who loved him find it hard to believe that he could have been homeless.

It doesn’t always end like this.

When our street people die, Micah usually finds itself more engaged in the search for a long lost family than the opportunity to remember their life. Early in my career, I grew numb to the questions about when the funeral will be or why the obituary had’t shown in the paper.  And it still breaks my heart when I have to confess that there isn’t going to be one.

I’ve learned, however, that those who leave this world with no home are by no means forgotten. With recycled goods, hand crafted items and tattered belongings, our homeless population shared their way of mourning with the people of Fredericksburg today. They cry, they swap stories; they bring flowers and eulogies. They mourn indeed, for the people who were important to them, just like the rest of us. And when they are done, the people they love become another legend, shared on the street so that all may know who went before them.

“Big Jim’s” story is a powerful testament to the very real possibility that any one of us could become homeless under the wrong set of circumstances. It has been an honor to watch the community rally around his remembrance. He is truly mourned in both the mainstream world and the homeless circle.

It is in their lives that I understand our street folks as valuable individuals.  In their deaths I remember they are a community, each valued by someone. May we never forget that everyone, whether homeless or housed, is someone’s son or daughter, placed on this earth with an important purpose.

We can say “no child left behind.” And we can fight global wars to stamp out terrorism.

But if we say… “end of homelessness,” heads cock sideways, eyes cross, minds scramble and the questions roll.

“You can’t say that,” I’m told. “No one will believe you are legitimate and realistic about your cause.”

“I’ve always understood homelessness as something that will always be among us,” they say. “How is it that you who spend your days with them, can think any differently?”

It may be true, that people will always be poor. It is guaranteed that someone will have a need. And its clear that some people have been trapped in their circumstances so long that they can’t see the prospect of doing anything any differently.

But does that mean we pour water on the mission and only work for what we believe to be possible?

Consider just reducing cancer-related deaths in the United States. How do we convince a patient that their odds are just as good as the next person?

We could work to minimize the number of children growing up to be overweight adults. What do we say to the parents who outlive their children because they weren’t part of the minimum?

Our slogan could be, “no child left behind, except the ones who want to be.” How do we inspire the youth and families of our generation to do any better for themselves.

We could even send soldiers into harms way just to “control” terrorism. But is that enough of a cause to sacrifice someone’s life?

When we talk about minimizing, reducing or anything but ending the ailments of our world, we are appealing to the status quo. Of course we want as few people as possible to die from cancer. Of course we want as many children as possible to grow up to be healthy, happy adults. OF COURSE we want any school child to graduate and go on to be a productive contributor. And by all means we want to limit the harm any person or group seeks to inflict on the world.

Minimizing, reducing, limiting–those are all things we do as human beings to find our place and our purpose. But ending something calls us to a much greater mission. It means that no one gets left out. It means that, when we’re done, our contribution to the cause will contribute to the path that someday will bring about an end to something. We may not live to see it; nor are our children guaranteed a life without one of troubles of our generation. But if we set the path for the moon, history proves we can get there one day. We ended slavery, we stopped segregation and when we got to the moon, we started planning for Mars.

So, yes, I talk about an end to homelessness. And when you look at all things we have ended in our  past, I don’t think it is too much to ask for all people have a safe and sound place to sleep at night.

Months of sleeping on a park bench and finagling a cot at the cold weather shelter were finally coming to an end. His daily efforts of pounding the pavement for job opportunities had paid off. He’d dropped off his last resume and had the last door slammed in his face. He was hired.  Working meant income and income meant a place to live and a new start.

But one thing stood between him and that job–a pair of blue pants.

It was a Friday and he was to report to work on Monday, but not without the proper uniform. White shirt, rubber-soled shoes and blue dress pants. The shirt and shoes were found with ease in Micah’s on-hand supply of clothing, donated generously by the greater community. But this pair of pants wasn’t just any old thing. He needed a size 54.

Our staff scoured discount shelves throughout the community to no avail. By Sunday evening, we were running out of time. But through the doors of the cold weather shelter walked volunteer carrying a shopping bag. In it was not one but two pairs of blue pants, a new/not donated pair of rubber soled shoes and a white button down shirt.

Our guest started work the next day and exited the shelter to permanent housing within the next two weeks.

We, at Micah, tell this story from time to time as a reminder of how simple our role in the end to homelessness can be. A pair of pants, a solid set of shoes, a dress or blouse suitable for an interview or first day of work may not always move a person off the street. But it does equip those in need with the best shot at achieving what is necessary to begin rebuilding their lives.

Because of this experience, Micah keeps a running list of people willing to donate special gifts, as needs arise. Based on individual preference, those participating will be called to purchase special items–clothing, shoes, etc.–for Micah clients who cannot find what they need in our donated stock at the hospitality center. If you or someone you know is interested in participating in this program. Please e-mail Meghann Cotter at meghann@dolovewalk.net.

When the shelter closed for the season he continued to pop up on our radar. Our phone rang from time to time with sightings throughout the community—a restaurant owner up the street, an employee at the Moss Clinic, a police officer. They all inquired about the well-being of this stand-out, who often hovered quietly on city street corners. Each time, we’d go in search of him, provide information on Micah, offer sustenance and few basic need items. Months went by, and he just wouldn’t take us up on those personal invites for help.

But the following January he began staying at the cold weather shelter, not once every couple of weeks, but every night. After several nights of reminding him to ride the bus, not come directly to the shelter, he showed up at 1013 Princess Anne St. and completed the required intake form. He ate with us, gave us a glimpse at some of his needs and even took a shower. Concern about his condition, however, rumbled within our building. “How can he wear those shorts in this frigid weather?” a volunteer asked. “And can’t we find him something better than all those trash bags to carry his belongings.”

The next day the volunteer showed up with pants—just his size. He happily took them and promptly cut them off at the knees. Disappointed, our volunteer was not deterred. The volunteer then showed up days later with a different set of pants, the kind that zip up along the sides. Our guest again took them thankfully, and promptly cut them off.  While he did not receive clothing and other items as we expected, the effort and care of our volunteers reminded us of the need to meet each guest where they are, not where we are.

It is at this place of hopelessness that we Micah folks often find ourselves.  We have many who are stuck in their state of mind, their abuses and their circumstances. It is at that point there is a predicament: Do we force expectations, refuse services and limit resources to those who fail to meet the benchmarks set by the government, public services and social systems? OR Do we rise to a new definition of success, where people triumph because they exceeded beyond their status as it was the day before? Through Christ’s model of hospitality and meeting people where they are, we strive for the later. It is a success—Micah-style—for our blanket-covered friend to frequent our services, daily or even every few months. It is a success—Micah-style—for him to interact with others. And it is an enormous success—Micah-style—for this man to have surrendered over half of his blankets that winter, in exchange for a coat… just his size. It is those Micah-defined successes that, over time, build a person who can even dream of meeting the benchmarks the rest of the world expects of them.

By the following year, I reveled in my relocation to a home with mature landscaping. The azalea’s bloomed as expected. The periwinkle popped its purple presents around the perimeter of the house. The Liriope stretched its spidery arms. The crepe myrtles burned a deep pink glow. And the dogwood’s smile completed the colorful masterpiece cast upon the yard.

Hanging onto such beauty has proved more challenging.  This year, my husband and I have found ourselves digging up overgrown Liriope, cutting down dogwoods that didn’t survive the winter, and chopping out azalea sections that have come to grow in two different colors. Our tendency to cut off, dig up and replace brought us to great debate about the overgrown Cutleaf Japanese Maple that adorned the entrance to our sidewalk. A wilting bush we thought, could be replaced by something much more cheerful and welcoming.

But one recent Saturday, Tree Fredericksburg’s Anne Little happened upon our block. As she repaired a damaged tree in front of our home, we discussed our struggling bush. “It needs to be pruned,” she explained.” When the limbs have too many offshoots weighing them down, they cannot spring up and take their true form.” Limb by limb, we began to disperse of the dead weight branches until the tree popped back to its previous perfection.

Much like our maple, many of Micah’s homeless guests come to us with untended limbs. They are weighed down not just by substance abuse, mental illness and criminal backgrounds, but by damage inflicted upon them from their youngest days. Their trip into homelessness never comes without a story, all very different from the next. But without fail, each of them shares a common lack of a support network. Through circumstance, abandonment and sometimes by their own choice, they have lost everyone in their lives, leaving no one to pull the weeds, mulch their beds and prune their heavy branches.

Luckily for them, people like Anne Little have found a way to take part in tending their overgrown lives. It so happens that, every Saturday for the last two Springs, she has tapped Micah clients who are willing to join her band of volunteers in planting new trees throughout the city. And this is no dig a hole in the ground and bury the roots event. It comes with instruction, observation and grooming of the skill. As homeless hands drop these beauties in the ground, they become somebody. No longer are they the man or woman who slept outside last night; they are the partner that contributed to the community beautification effort. They are the citizen who cares whether it lives to see its branches spread. And they begin to believe that maybe they do have something to contribute to the world after all.

Some seeds fall along the road and are trampled. Others fall among the rock and quickly wither.  And plenty find themselves choked by the thorns. While many do fall among the good soil, bringing fruit one hundred fold, there is nothing that says a seed that begins its life among rock, footpath or thorns, can’t someday find its way to solid ground, where it may find its purpose as flowering gem. After all, we seeds do come from the same bag and “whoever has ears to hear, may hear.”

Micah Ecumenical Ministries is collecting “big ticket” treasures for a June Yard Sale.

Clean out those garages, basements and storage units
Pull out your furniture, appliances and households that are too good to throw away, but not your style any more
Get out those tools, sports equipment and electronics you planned on using someday
How about those unused building supplies—Lumber? Drywall? Bricks? Siding?

To donate your tax deductible items:
CALL 540-479-4116 x16

Delivery is appreciated but not required.
All proceeds from the sale will assist Micah in its many
 efforts to help Fredericksburg’s neighbors in need.