Cornerstone Baptist; Homeless Ministry Outreach

Salutations!

The holiday season is upon us and I find myself looking at everything very differently than I ever did in previous years. My experience on the streets of Austin has changed a lot for me. I don't say that to romanticize the experience (it was only a couple days after all), but it was one of those things that makes you realize that your days can never go back to how they were before the voyage. You can never be who you were before you left your every day comforts. My opinion of the homeless community, my opinion of the non-profit world, and my opinion of society in general, had to be reconciled with a new reality. The experience altered my frame of reference in the best way possible. For that I am thankful, both in a time when it's custom to sit around and think of such things, and for the rest of my life, I'll be thankful. Thanks to those who organized and joined me in the endeavor, thanks to anyone who has volunteered with me, thanks to all the lovely friends of mine living on the streets that have given me insight into life for them, thanks to everyone who has written me or called me with encouraging and inspiring stories of their own.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Two weeks ago, my friend, Melissa, helped put something together for a few of us to participate in Cornerstone Baptist's Homeless Ministry Outreach. Saturday morning, we arrived at a building that would never be guessed as a kitchen for the homeless by a passer-by. I later learned that it was once a liquor store and had been recently converted to what we knew it as. Liquor store, that's more like it. It looks like a liquor store. For obvious reasons, this is amusing to me. My favorite part, though, is how the inside starkly contrasted the outside. If you didn't know what you were walking into, you might think it was a bread and pastry shop. When the kitchen opened for the meal, those coming in to eat were allowed to dig through shelves and shelves of different bread and dessert products displayed on the opposing wall. The way Cornerstone chose to deliver the food was different than any other location where I have volunteered. The food and drinks were taken to the homeless instead of them standing in line. This allowed for much more interaction than the line-server format. While I was completely comfortable with this set-up due to the amount of time I've spent these last few months interacting with the homeless and at-risk individuals, it was clear that it was not the ideal setting for some of the volunteers. It's definitely something to keep in mind when checking out places to volunteer.

My favorite part, proved to be the conversations I had with Willy, Maile and Josh. We discussed many of the same things I had discussed with the homeless I'd befriended the week before in Austin. They told me things about Dallas that I didn't know. It made me sad for my city, just for the way some things have been handled. Mainly I was upset that I had no idea; it hurt to feel so unaware and powerless. Sometimes that makes this whole thing very difficult, but what I love about all of this is that I never get bored with it. I never get tired of the people that I meet. They never bore me with their lives and livelihood. They never moan about work or the stock market, of course not. That's not what I'm saying. What I appreciate about it, is that people are admittedly unsettled. No one is trying to pretend or present some kind of facade about how his or her life is perfect. They don't complain about the hardships of life out of mundaneness or fear of change. They willingly admit that they have failed or that someone else has failed them. It's always honest. It's always real. It's invigorating.

The last two weeks my other "projects" have consisted of delivering 20 baskets of Clementines to a street corner of Dallas with a bad reputation and volunteering to assist with Communion at a Catholic Church in Kansas City. I have some really heartfelt and humiliating, yet hysterical, moments to share with you all the next time I update. I also look forward to writing more about Cornerstone Baptist, as I'm sure to have future involvement with them- they have an incredible outreach throughout Dallas. I hope you are well. Thanks for being patient with me, I think we all know what kind of havoc the holidays can wreak on our schedules. Next time will be much sooner than last as I honestly get anxious to share with you all. Enjoy the pictures. Enjoy each other and enjoy life.

AMF



The outside of the kitchen/ ex-liquor store.





Bread available to those coming in for the meal.

Liss getting ready to don her apron

Alisha also helping to hand out aprons to volunteers



So excited for all these seats to be filled with fed people!



Maile and Josh- best friends.

Beautiful Maile.

Life-sharing at it's finest.

It was the first morning after a major cold front so people started gathering well in advance.
This is over an hour before the doors will open for breakfast.

That's Willy in the hat, letting his coffee settle.



Two precious sisters that were helping with the orange juice.



Chris Simmons, lead pastor of Cornerstone Baptist. Incredible, incredible human being.

Thanks again for visiting. Please continue with the e-mails, Facebook messages, phone calls, comments, etc., telling me all the ways you guys are changing the world around you. Those updates have quickly become one of my greatest joys. Keep changing minds and changing lives. Be remarkable, friends.

Mobile Loaves and Fishes- Street Retreat

"Here! For you!" Mike walked towards me with a huge smile on his face and a black corduroy coat, two sizes too small, held up for me to put my arms inside. I thanked him fervently as I surveyed the crowd. I searched for someone that would probably hang around for a bit to pass the jacket to once Mike left. I was grateful for the kind gesture and I didn't want to hurt his feelings. I stood by the park bench as I waited for him to leave. I wondered why he would worry about keeping a complete stranger warm- he didn't know my name, we'd never even interacted. Mike had been homeless for years, and he knew I was only going to be homeless for a couple days. Yet, he was earnestly and deeply concerned for my well-being.

Mike was my first glimpse of the dichotomy that exists within the the homeless community. There's an intense selflessness and "we" attitude, but there's also the simultaneous need to survive. Generally, the homeless people that we met each said that he or she was a trustworthy person, but that no one [else] was to be trusted. For 48 hours, our small group was going to simulate the homeless lifestyle in Austin, TX. It was probably the first time in my life that I actually sought out people living on the street in pursuit of any advice they would willingly offer.Now that I've done it, I'm sure there will be many more times I seek their advice.

It's hard to believe that at this time a week ago, I was digging through recycling bins for pieces of cardboard large enough to flatten out and sleep upon. Cardboard is a basic necessity of sleeping on the street- it keeps you from having to lie directly on the cold, hard concrete all night and we were lucky enough to find a church parking lot that is open to the homeless to sleep on every Friday. Before nightfall, the experience hadn't felt like much more than camping in the city while speculating what it might feel like to be homeless. Everything changed once we made up our "beds" and realized we weren't going to be able to ensure each other's safety. Temperatures dropped to freezing, it took thirty minutes for me and another one of the women to find somewhere to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night,  the noise and unknowns of the street made it incredibly difficult to sleep. Sleep typically refreshes and reassures one, but sleep was actually a bit unnerving and only taken out of complete necessity.

That was the most difficult thing to deal with- the restlessness. There was never a moment of peace, there were brief periods of rest, mainly during the day, but never really peace. Maybe it's because it was too new and foreign to me, but I think mostly it was because any attempt at security seemed futile. We always had to be aware of our surroundings, of who we were with and where we were going. Our senses were perpetually heightened, our adrenaline always pumping, and we were constantly interacting with our environment.

Physically, the experience was absolutely exhausting. Emotionally, it was absolutely humbling.

People like Peanut and Reptile showed me that marriage can survive many obstacles when your purpose and goal are the same. Smurf, the clean cut, good-looking, self-proclaimed "street kid," was one of many that taught me things aren't always as they appear. Lloyd could manage an entire restaurant, but instead, he lives in a box on top of the church where he works and volunteers. Scorpio, who now has his own place, slept in a parking lot four miles outside of the city just to join us for the night. A judge lent me his gloves when my hands got cold; a prosecutor carried the cardboard for my bed. The founder and president of a hugely successful non-profit organization spent his weekend asking the homeless what their solution would be, I saw him listen and observe for hours, and he's been doing it for years.

People were my dwelling place and my comfort. I didn't realize it until I entered my empty apartment. Not empty. I have things everywhere, but no one was with me. I really didn't know what to do with myself. There was nothing to look out for, nothing to react to and no one, with whom, to interact. In a matter of two days, my existential paradigm dramatically shifted. That's how things should be, I think. It's part of what makes the idea of "home" such a difficult concept. I don't think buildings were ever meant to do more than house us; "home" exists more in people than concrete. It may not be comfortable or predictable, but my time with the kind, caring, and loving people living on the streets of Austin, showed me that it's a much better way to live. Thank you for that. Thank you to everyone who participated in the Retreat. Thank you for sleeping alongside me. Thank you for serving alongside me. Just, thank you.

Truly,

AMF

Realization; Drew Wakefield cont'd

Greetings Lovelies,

Ever have one of those days, few days, weeks even, of feeling like your thoughts must weigh a hundred pounds? The worst is when the heaviness makes everything murky and difficult to decipher-you ache but find it impossible to name the source of pain. After some self-evaluation, a bit of hot tea, and a few episodes of The Ellen Show (seriously), I realized that the "weight" came from here. This project, this journey, this movement and new way of life. 

That's strange. Isn't it?

Maybe not so strange as I first thought when this realization collided with the pages of my journal. Actually, it makes sense. As we actively try to engage and relate to one another, as we aim to share each other's experiences and come alongside one another in difficult situations, we shift the proportion of pain to life for ourselves and those around us. Please don't mistake what I'm saying here, I have loved every minute spent on this project. I've loved the hours spent researching organizations, making phone calls, e-mailing strangers, meeting and serving alongside new faces, serving and reconnecting with friends, the thought it's provoked, the life it's provoked... I've loved it. All of it. I've just been able to experience, this week, what I've known all along. It's not just about volunteering and creating awareness.

Where does awareness leave us?

I'll tell you. It leaves you feeling guilty for being born into much more than some people will ever experience. It leaves you feeling as though any accomplishments you've achieved are worthless because maybe it was all given to you. You feel naive and perhaps even cruel for not knowing the sting of destitution, or you wonder if you knew always, but chose to ignore suffering out of selfish intent to not share it. As awareness increases, thoughts such as these often multiply. Now, let's loop this around to that shift of proportions I mentioned earlier. The word "weight" is sometimes used synonymously with the word "burden," and I'm going to use that to my advantage in the following illustration. If four people are carrying a heavy object [weight], it is going to seem much lighter to each person that is participating than if they individually attempted to carry it, correct? What if one person stumbled upon three people having difficulty carrying the weight? This fourth person is aware that the other three are struggling. Through observation, this person has also become aware that his weight is much less than what the other three are attempting to carry. He feels compassion for them and even conjures up some emotional weight of his own in the form of guilt over the imbalance. Okay, he's taken on some weight, perhaps he even feels better about the others' situation compared to his because he no longer feels so light. He feels their burden, but what assistance has he offered the other three? He's mistakenly added weight [burden], instead of doing something to mitigate the problem.

I can so easily be that fourth person. Sometimes, I am him.

This analogy, this post, isn't about expressing to you my shortcomings. I'm also not accusing anyone of having the same flawed rationale as I do at times. I wish to encourage you. I will you to go and just do something inspirational. Even if you're the only one it inspires (which is highly unlikely), it will be worth the effort. If you've been reading this and found yourself inspired or emotionally burdened in the least, please put down the false emotional weight and go physically help someone. I was able to visit Drew and Cara Beth Wakefield at Cook Children's Hospital in Fort Worth. Drew was released from ICU last week and he's doing so well that he may be able to go home as early as next week! I mention this because as Cara Beth and I were visiting, she told me of a few things that had been particularly moving to her. A couple of those involved you guys. I won't mention names, but she fed me details of one person sending a package that included a teddy bear and SpongeBob DVD, this person also subscribed to their CaringBridge.org site and they've corresponded on a few occasions. This person is not someone that would typically be viewed as having the "power" to really make a difference- this person isn't a movie star, professional athlete, or a politician even. This person is a complete stranger to the Wakefield's that has willingly and authentically taken initiative to share a burden. Cara Beth was so touched by this. Who wouldn't be? The best part about it, though, is when you genuinely share weight with someone, you genuinely share relief with them as well. If you've ever felt that, you know it's wonderful. It's even a bit on the addictive side. Look at people like Ellen DeGeneres and Oprah Winfrey, Bill Gates and Warren Buffet, yes, they are the aforementioned "powerful" ones, but I think that they are just wishing to share in an amount that is appropriate to what they are able to give. Think how many heart-wrenching tales they've heard, how much must constantly be requested of them... yet they don't seem to be emotionally burdened by it all. They do something about it. Maybe you won't give $100 million to radically successful charter schools around the nation so they can extend their vision, perhaps you won't be able to pay for a dozen cash-strapped brides'-to-be weddings, but no one is asking you to do that. Only you know your capabilities. It could also be time to reevaluate that. I encourage you to push your limits on this, try and reach further than you believe you have the power to reach. What's the worst that could happen? Can you really fail when it comes to giving?

Try it out. Let me know how it goes.

-AMF



After the photos, you'll find that I've re-posted the Wakefield's address and the link to their CaringBridge.org site. It's never too late to reach out and no gesture is ever too small.

Outside of family and staff, no one is allowed to enter Drew's room. Guests are allowed to visit on the private balcony where you can visit with him via this window and phone.

This is the view from the window into Drew's room. Sweet guy wasn't feeling great, so we weren't able to chat. I just waved at him and told him that he looked fabulous.



The view from Drew's balcony, it mirrors his side of the hospital. The whole area looks like a Disney palace- it's oddly, yet sweetly, charming.



Had to get a picture with the puppy for Drew and the absolutely lovely, Cara Beth.



Please send mail to:
[Intended party of Wakefield family]
1104 Indian Ridge Dr.
Denton, TX 76205


Facebook Group: Pray for Drew Wakefield

CaringBridge.org Website: http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/myfrienddrew


I look forward to hearing about how you guys are changing the world.

Cheers!