Forks

I've been trying for days to find the words to describe the experience I had volunteering at a women's shelter over the weekend, and I'm not sure they're ever going to come in the eloquent way I'm hoping for.  So forgive me if this blog is jagged and meandering, but sometimes things just have to come out whether they're polished and pretty or not.

I have an advanced degree in an area that makes me seemingly "well-equipped" for just this sort of service.  But as I've learned over and over again in life, there is an enormous chasm between theory and practice.  In other words, talking the talk is much easier than walking the walk.  The honest, horrible truth is that I was dreading this volunteer experience.  I knew I wanted to do it and felt compelled to volunteer.  But when it was time to go, I was in knots.  A lot of that was due to the fact that I didn't know what to expect.  I like to walk into new situations with reasonable expectations and a clear sense of rules and boundaries.  I'm fond of dry runs, dress rehearsals, and rough drafts. All I really knew was that I'd been told to not bring my purse or wear valuable jewelry, and that I was encouraged to engage the women there in conversation.  So there was this strange air of caution about the situation, and it was making me nervous and uncomfortable.

This isn't a domestic violence shelter.  It's a shelter for women who have nowhere to sleep at night, for a plethora of reasons you can probably brainstorm pretty easily.  I walked in there and immediately felt foolish...green...privileged...  I think my appearance lends itself to some pretty easy stereotypes, and I could sense I was being assessed as you'd expect a straight, white, professional female to be assessed. 

It was sensory overload.  I was putting all of my energy into not letting my face give away my thoughts (which is pretty tough for me) or at least not letting my jaw literally drop.  The appearance and personalities of these women varied tremendously, and with each one, I couldn't help but wonder what the circumstances were that prompted her to start heading down the path that led her here.  I thought of so many forks in my life's path and how I could have easily made a sequence of choices that might have led me down a similar road.  Somehow I was able to wait until I left to call my folks, sobbing, thanking them for giving me access to a great education, for instilling top-notch morals in me, for introducing me to God, and for raising me to believe in myself and seize opportunities in life.

I surprised myself by agreeing to lead a little game the leader of our group had planned.  The plan was for the women to write their answers on index cards, but no sooner did she announce that, then someone quietly asked me if I could help her spell because she didn't really know how to write.  So I encouraged the women to just shout out their answers.  It was trivia about popular sayings from TV shows in the 60s and 70s (they had to guess who said the phrase) and they would competitively scream out the answers and then reminisce about that era.  I heard one woman say she hadn't laughed in the longest time.  It made my chest hurt as I fought back tears.  We passed out gift bags to everyone there, containing things like bath sponges, shampoo, body wash, and other personal care items.  I heard a woman squeal with delight, saying she really needed shampoo...

Shampoo.  In your world and in mine, we might find ourselves irritable when we finish a bottle of shampoo because this means we may have to make an unplanned stop at a store and pick up a new bottle.  We're irritated at the inconvenience, but not grateful for the means of transportation that can get us to the store, and not grateful for the money we have so that shampoo is not a luxury.  We might complain about how messy our homes are, but forget to be grateful for a permanent residence.  While I complain about how hot I'm getting in my hammock, someone is wishing they had a yard.  And while I turn on my white noise to help me fall asleep in my bed, someone is wishing the gun shots would stop, or the person next to them in the shelter would stop arguing so loudly with whomever that is.

I can't walk away from this just feeling grateful for my blessings after a powerful reality check.  I walk away from it, challenged to think what more I can do to make some sort of difference in even one of these women's lives.  I walk away challenged to be sure I'm not doing this to feel good about myself, but to truly serve with a pure heart.  Mostly I walk away from it thinking about prevention - and - thinking about raising a young boy and girl to be successful, well-adjusted, capable adults.

Guideposts

I wrote a book review this week about a book I just read - The Story of Edgar Sawtelle.  As I reflected on the book, I was thinking about the functionality of guideposts in our lives.  Quite literally, we rely on things like street signage, directions on a medicine bottle, recipes, etc.  Those "guideposts" inform our decisions and actions whenever we cannot rely upon our own knowledge and experience for that type of information. 

For many of us, people like parents, spouses, teachers, & pastors are our guideposts too.  We feel that, as long as their presence is a part of our life, we cannot veer too far off track.  They mark the edges of the path we are walking.  They assure us we are headed in the right direction, and they may even mark out the path ahead of us. 

What happens when a guidepost is removed or blocked though? It can feel very unsettling and create anxiety, because we rely on those guideposts so much.  But the truth is - parents die, teachers retire, pastors are assigned to other congregations, and so forth.  Friends and lovers fade out of our lives when we least expect it.  In Edgar Sawtelle, Edgar is mute, but his family trains dogs. So Edgar teaches the dogs sign language so that he can communicate with them, giving them signals, directions, and even praise.  He refuses to allow an unconventional means of communication to hamper his ability to do his family's work.    Likewise, the dogs adapt to having someone make hand motions to them, rather than hearing commands spoken our shouted.  They make do. 

The alternative is to believe we are helpless and waste time wandering about aimlessly through our lives, waiting on someone to be a leader or mentor for us so we can find our way.  There is a saying that we don't know what we are capable of until we are forced to endure it, and I believe that to be true.  I never would have thought I could manage to be a single mother of two children without the "guidepost" of a husband.  But I'm doing it, and doing it well.  I had to learn to rely on myself more, to educate myself on certain things, and to be braver and stronger than I was.  They key is to know oneself completely, to be kind to yourself, to challenge yourself, and hopefully to rely on God and his word to lead you through life's challenges and dilemmas.