a surrender - 47

(Continuing "a surrender", chapter six, "there are no heroes in the kingdom of God")

I was also starting to realize how tired I was. Heather, too. We tried to take more breaks, and found a good Irish pub nearby, with musicians on the weekends. We found an Al-Anon group nearby, too. It was for relatives and friends of alcoholics and addicts, to support one another as they struggled to cope with their unique, overwhelming challenges. That was good. We respected how humble the people there were, beaten down by the pain and terrible choices they grappled with day after day. And I also focused on Jesus’ words:

Come to me, 
all you who labor 
and are heavy laden,
and I will give you rest. 

Take my yoke upon you, 
and learn from me, 
for I am gentle 
and lowly in heart, 
and you will find rest 
for your souls. 

For my yoke is easy 
and my burden is light.

I thought I had followed Jesus in coming here, but now I didn’t think he was the one who had been pushing me so hard. Other people, maybe. Or maybe it was me? I’m the one who came here wanting to be a hero.

I also started visiting a church in town. It was about a mile away, and the walking felt good. I didn’t go into the church, though. There was a big cross in the courtyard, with several tall pines framing it and a huge, old maple tree that offered a shady spot in the grass. And it was quiet. I would sit there and pray. Often the wind could be heard in the pine trees, gently swaying them. It felt like the presence of God to me. It seemed to be softly whispering, “I will give you rest.”

A few weeks later, we told another guest she had to leave. Her behavior had been growing more and more erratic, and she was becoming noticeably paranoid. We suspected she hadn’t been taking her psychiatric medication. She never left her room, except for meals. The other guests were getting nervous. We tried and tried, but she refused to accept the fact that she needed medication. I didn’t know her very well, but I went to her room, to try to convince her that this wasn’t a good place for her any more. I told her I wasn’t sure it was a good place for me either. I cried saying it. Maybe it was good for me to admit that, but it didn’t seem to help her much. The volunteers offered to pay for a motel room for her for a few nights and we helped her pack. The next day, she left. She was hostile and sullen. But when Heather dropped her off at the motel, the woman gave her a hug.

Continued... 

a surrender - 46

(Continuing "a surrender", chapter six, "there are no heroes in the kingdom of God")

It was around that time that our housemates decided that Cassie and Richard had to go. He sometimes slept on our porch, when he couldn’t get a bed at a men’s shelter. But they both had been drinking more often. One night, Cassie got into a loud, drunken argument and launched into a shocking racist rant against her roommate. Another time, when Cassie was refusing to talk to Richard, he pushed past me and charged up the stairs to the women’s private rooms, yelling her name. It took a long time to convince him to leave. It might have been during that time they were not talking that Richard showed up late one evening, drunk and very distressed. He told me he was worried he would harm himself. I let him sleep in my room that night, so he wouldn’t be alone. They eventually reconciled, but soon after, Cassie was caught letting Richard in the back door one night. That was the last straw. I had tried so hard to be patient and help them. Now, because I had been involved with them the most, I was the one chosen to tell them they had to leave.

That’s when I began having doubts. It really felt bad to put them back out on the street. I understood that letting them stay would be bad for the other guests in the house. I could see that it was probably necessary to kick people out sometimes, to keep a house like this safe and available for those in need. But it still felt bad. What did Jesus say? “From one who takes away your goods do not demand them back.” That felt a lot better to me. But how could we do that and keep a house like this running? I didn’t know that we could. And I realized that Jesus didn’t have to face the question of kicking someone out, since he was homeless himself. He helped people, but not with money or property. Not with anything people could steal from him, or take advantage of. And he didn’t have anything that made him the master, that put in him in control of other people’s lives. What Jesus had to give was very different. It didn’t come from people, it came from God. I began wondering, how could I give like he did?

Continued...

a surrender - 45

(Continuing "a surrender", chapter six, "there are no heroes in the kingdom of God")

But people kept coming. One night, after we had closed the house, there were two emergency calls. A woman was stranded at the bus station and the security guard was calling to find her a place for the night. The other call was from a nurse at the hospital with a woman fleeing domestic abuse, who couldn’t find room at the local domestic abuse shelter. It was after midnight then. I managed to let them in and provide a place on our couches. And the next morning Heather helped me sort out their stories and find bus fare to get them on their way. Heather was very good with the woman who was fleeing. She was extremely nervous and needed comforting, and Heather invited her into her room and helped her prepare for a bus ride to a safer place. We felt happy after helping those two women.

But they kept on coming. The very next night a woman showed up on the porch late, drunk, but she was shaking, crying uncontrollably. I let her in, and asked if she wanted something to eat. She was ravenous for meat, since she had been living on noodles for quite a while, so I found her some sliced turkey. And sat with her, and listened.

She had been saving money to pay a fine, she told me. If she didn’t pay she would go to jail. Her court date was tomorrow and she’d had the money ready; she had given it to her boyfriend to keep safe. But he had spent it on drugs.

“He smoked my freedom,” she cried.

When she demanded the money, shouting, and wouldn't leave him alone, he’d called the police and had her taken away. But she had been living with him; she had nowhere else to go. So the police left her at our door.

I had to sit with her a long time. She couldn’t calm down enough to sleep; she raged and paced and wailed. She wasn’t sure who she wanted to shoot, him or herself. She said she believed there was a God. And she believed God hated her. She said she now understood how some women turned to prostitution, how others became criminals. And then, sagging in the chair, she cried, “And no one cares… no one cares.”

She said that over and over, and I suddenly realized that her anguish was spiritual. Right in the middle of her loss of housing and possible loss of freedom, she was most troubled because no one seemed to care. Not even God. I didn’t know how to respond to her deep pain, except by listening and trying to be a friend to her.

Continued...

a surrender - 44

(Continuing "a surrender", chapter six, "there are no heroes in the kingdom of God")

And the challenges continued. We had sent that couple off to their new apartment with many things that they would need, but they had also borrowed an expensive ventilation fan and had not returned it. I’d been trying to keep in mind Jesus’ words, “Give to everyone who begs from you, and from one who takes away your goods do not demand them back.” But others in the house were starting to insist that I do something to get it back. The next day, there was a loud disagreement in our front yard among the lunch crowd and the neighbor called the police. We explained to them that we tried to solve disputes through listening, patience, and our personal relationships with the guests here, rather than resorting to physical force or the police. But they said if we weren’t going to start calling the police, they would file an official complaint against us. And Sammy was still threatening to sue and demanding money. He was getting harder to deal with and wouldn’t listen when we tried to explain that his own drunkenness and belligerence led to his injury. So we just listened and gave him food when he was hungry, blankets, bus tokens, whatever we could offer.

It wasn’t long, though, before the lunchtime volunteers had had enough. Sammy got into a fight and they called the police to remove him, and banned him from the house. He showed up that night, though, when the lunch volunteers were gone. He just barged right in, spit on someone, and grabbed some food, upsetting the women who lived with us. Then he arrived again the next morning. I went out to him and listened to him yell. Then I asked him if he wanted something to eat. When I brought out two sandwiches and some orange juice, and said he could sit on the porch and eat them, he apologized for yelling. I went back inside to finish my prayers and coffee. When I checked later, he was gone.

But Sammy was worrying me. Despite our patience and kindness, he had gotten nasty with Heather and me, attacking us personally. He called us “freeloaders” here. He said any self-respecting man would provide his own place for his woman. And in his angry demands for money he had threatened to damage the house.

Then that night, after dark, Sammy showed up on the porch again. And asked for me. I went out and led him down the block, away from the house. He had been drinking. But he wasn’t aggressive this time. He said he was sorry for causing so much trouble, he didn’t want to hurt anyone and he would stay off the premises. He shook my hand and thanked me and Heather for “trying to see him as a better person.” He was lonely and “just trying to get attention.” He thought he might like to volunteer at the house some time. We shook hands again and I asked if he needed anything. He said he’d be all right. Then we said goodbye and he left.

I could hardly believe it. As I walked back to the house, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was like a weight had been lifted from me. And it was encouraging to see that kindness and patience could have such a good effect, even with someone as hardened as Sammy. 

Continued...

a surrender - 43

(Continuing "a surrender", chapter six, "there are no heroes in the kingdom of God")

But in the days that followed, there were a series of disappointments. We heard that a couple that had just moved out of the house (the husband had been sleeping on the porch), who we congratulated and rejoiced with, were now doing drugs in their new apartment. We talked with a woman with two children and found out her sister had pushed them out of the grandmother’s home onto the street, and seemed to be trying to get custody of the kids. While gathering some food and blankets for a friend with a dog, we listened while he explained how his van (his only home, with all his belongings) had been towed in a random sweep to discourage football fans from parking in a restaurant parking lot during the games. And we saw Sammy again, now in a neck brace with ugly red scrapes on his face, sitting in our kitchen after receiving food and blankets—and calmly saying he might try to sue us.

Then we found out that Cassie, who was still staying in the house, had alcohol problems. One night she got some bad news about custody of her kids (who lived with a relative) and, after a month of sobriety, she started drinking again. A lot. Heather and I ended up driving her to her sister’s place. She wanted to get out of the house and it was raining and dark, and we were worried she would go out walking alone, stumbling drunk. During the hour-long drive she started singing softly. A favorite of hers, I think, by Kid Rock. These words caught my ear:

People don’t know about
the things I say and do
They don’t understand about
the shit I’ve been through

It’s been so long 
since I’ve been home
I’ve been gone 
I’ve been gone way too long
Maybe I’ve forgotten 
all the things I miss
Oh, somehow I know 
there is more to life than this

So I think I’ll keep a’ walkin’ 
with my head held high
I’ll keep moving on 
and only God knows why

Only God, only God
Only God knows why

Continued...