The Mess

This is something that I wrote a while back, but in the last week as I've been thinking about things like humility, service, and surrender, I have been reminded of these words. As I reread them this morning I felt like they were fitting for this place where I'm standing, so I thought I'd share them.

. . .

It seems that all the things worth doing in this life are messy, and I don't like messy. And yet relationships are always that way. I keep thinking (mistakenly) that as I get better at loving people that things will work out better, go more according to plan. Those last five words expose me. I want some sort of control. I want to know what comes next. I want formula. I want to know that if I do my part, then I will get some predictable result. Loving people doesn't work that way.

Ultimately loving anyone means surrender. A perpetual giving up. Laying down my plans. Trading in my agenda. The church keeps telling me that I have to surrender to Jesus, which is true, but I need a continual reminder to shrink down below others as well. This is what Paul meant when he said that in humility I should consider others better than myself. In theory this works out fine. And on the days when all is going well, it seems like a pretty good idea. But on those other days, when someone cuts me off on the road and the waitress is rude and my friends hurt my feelings (or I hurt theirs), surrender is complicated. Instead of shrinking down, my heart cries out, "What about me?"

This is where things start to get messy and the point where my strong leanings toward avoidance kick in. I am more prone to walk around the mess than through it. Nurse my wounded pride and walk away. But if I am serious about living as Jesus did I've got to willingly enter into the messiness that is my life and theirs and all the complications that come when we try to do life together. I think this was the point of Christ's humanity. He willingly left the right hand of the Father to come down here and walk right through our messy lives because that's what love is. In humility, Jesus decided that my life was more important than His. And I'd like to believe that because He was fully God that somehow his decision to surrender was easier than mine, but I need look no further than Gethsemane to see that even for God surrender is not an easy thing.

So I have no choice but to give up. Who am I to demand that my life be neat and clean and predictable and that I be given what I think I deserve? And is that really what I want? What I want more is to be able to really enter into the messiness of life and give up enough of me so that someone, anyone, everyone could know what Jesus meant when He said love. But the reality is that Jesus wasn't really as into talking about love as much as He was into living it, and He lived out this love in the messiest places He could find. Turns out the religious people in those days hated messes too, so much so that they killed Jesus.

And that's the fork in the road where I find myself everyday…I can sacrifice Him or me. Somehow this decision used to be easier, or at least that's how it seemed; I now wonder if I've ever fully sacrificed myself for Jesus or anyone else. Where is my Gethsemane ? Jesus fell to the ground "overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death" as He struggled with the decision to give up His life for mine. My prayer is that God might strengthen me (or make me weak enough) so that I can struggle forward to a place where I might choose someone else above myself…a deceptively simple request. And maybe I never quite make it, but my heart is that I would move a little more in that direction everyday of this messy life.

Waking Up With Spaghetti in My Hair

Things I’m good at: writing in cursive on an Etch-a-Sketch, taking standardized tests, saying dumb, funny things into a microphone.

Things I’m bad at: dancing, knowing the difference between clockwise and counterclockwise, doing anything in the kitchen.

I tend to steer my life toward the things I do well, and I try to avoid, at all costs, doing the things that I’m bad at. So how did I end up being in charge of the kitchen at shelter last night? This is what I was asking myself while doing mountains of dishes. I was spraying mashed potatoes and spaghetti and brownie bits off of plates and onto the walls/the sink/my hair, and I was soaking wet, despite wearing big, yellow rubber gloves to my elbows and a floor-length black apron. With 10 minutes left before lights out, there were two bus tubs full of dishes that I hadn’t even started, and most of the leftover food from the evening was still out on the table.

This was par for the course last night. The last few evenings have felt a bit like this, full of constant reminders that I’m the clueless, new kid. Every night there are things that I don’t know how to do or situations I don’t know how to handle. I tell guests no when the answer is yes. I give them things I’m not supposed to. I have to ask a supervisor to clarify what exactly I’m supposed to be doing. Someone has to redo whatever I’ve just done or clean up the mess I’ve made. So last night, after days of feeling incompetent and 30 minutes of swimming in soggy food, I hit the wall; I was done.

At that point, Kristin (aka the boss of me) walked in and realized that I was totally overwhelmed. She offered to let me do whatever would be best for me, but at that moment I had no idea what that was. We talked for a minute, and I opted to skip our nightly meeting and go ahead and finish the dishes because we thought some alone time would do me good. It was a good call.

As I continued washing dishes and trying to process what I was feeling, I was reminded of something God spoke to me years ago, “You don’t do enough of the things that you hate.” It’s an odd concept to be sure. We all do our best to craft lives around the things that we’re good at and the things we enjoy. So why bother with the things I hate? Why choose to do things I don’t do well? What is there to gain? The answer: everything.

Humility. Surrender of control. Transformation. Solidarity with those who don’t get to choose. This is why Jesus calls us to live as servants. There is something about this posture that allows us to give and receive more authentically and that puts us in a position to be changed. I am reminded that this is part of why I go to new places to do things I’ve never done before. I didn’t come here because I would be good at it, quite the opposite. Living in a world where I only do what I’m good at is a dangerous place. When I know exactly what I'm doing and am totally relying on me and my own competence, I tend to be closed off to learning from God and others. And I know that I still have much to learn…which is why I’m here.

I hope that as I spend my last few nights at shelter, and inherently stumble through new tasks and make a few more mistakes, I can remember that that's okay. As a closet perfectionist/control freak/performance junkie, I hope I can let go a little more...and relax.

I don’t have this thing figured out, but I’m beginning to think that’s good news.

4th of July Soccer and Kayak vs. Yacht

So here are some more pictures from the journey.We went to see two soccer games for the 4th of July. We watched the US beat Grenada (like a rerun from the 80's) and Honduras beat Haiti. The highlights were seeing Freddy Adu play and watching the Haitian fans.

In case you missed it, my friend Melanie and I had a collision with a parked yacht. She had me take a picture of the yacht with another kayak for scale. You'll notice they're rounding the corner; so were we, but we didn't exactly make it due to some technical difficulties with steering (totally my fault btw).

Kayaking + Discovery Park/Puget Sound

Here are some pictures of the adventures of Team Awesome, or the group of volunteers who I work with (including the infamous kayaking trip).

Safe

There is a rhythm and routine to my work at the shelter that brings me comfort. Upon arrival each night we put on gloves and begin lugging gray mats to their assigned places. Each mat has a number, and we deliver 29 of them to their designated spots according to a detailed map. There is a red number on one side and a black number on the other side. On odd numbered days we place the red side up, and on even numbered days, it’s black side up. We have to leave at least two tiles’ space between them. Then we put a pillow on each mat and a Rubbermaid container for belongings at the foot of each bed. We disinfect the mats and start stacking bedding with one blanket, sheet, and pillowcase for each guest.

Getting the shelter ready each night is a series of small, easy tasks. My body is more engaged than my mind. There is steady movement and the satisfaction of a job well done. I’m really good at setting up mats; my success is guaranteed. I don’t even fully understand all of what I’m doing. Don’t ask me why we have a map for our numbered mats. I have no idea, but it doesn’t really matter. Someone else is in charge here; someone else is "the boss of me". I’m just following directions. I love these kinds of jobs. I always have. Secretly, I like doing meticulously scripted work. I crave more structure and supervision than anyone would suspect. It makes me feel safe.

I’m beginning to think this is true of us all. People often talk about how children crave structure or need boundaries, but so do adults. That is why 25+ guests show up at ROOTS every night. Because they are seeking a structure and routine that is never present on the streets. For 11 hours at a time they are happy to trade in the independence and freedom of their street lives for the rigidity and rules of shelter life.

My experience is that successful programs for homeless friends tend to be pretty rules-y. They gave me pages of rules at volunteer training, but after being here only a week I understand that they are necessary. These are not rules for the sake of having rules. All the systems and procedures for beds and food and bathrooms and clothing and the ways we monitor conversation and behavior, they are the structure that holds this place up. And ultimately, it is all part of the attempt to make everyone feel safe. And it seems to work.

When guests check in for the evening, they are asked a series of questions. The first is whether or not they feel safe. I love this question. Why? Because safe matters. The health of individuals and communities depends on it. It’s a question that we all answer for ourselves a hundred times a day in each of our many contexts and relationships. Am I safe? Unfortunately, many of the horrible things that happen in our world on both a global and relational level happen when individuals or groups feel unsafe, but when people feel safe it opens the door for unlimited possibilities. This is why ROOTS goes to great lengths to create a safe space. And I love that. I love the sanctuary that this place provides for guests, many of whom I suspect have had very unsafe journeys that have brought them here. But at least for tonight, they have a safe place to land...on these gray numbered mats in nice, neat rows. And that makes me happy.