The Gift

Yesterday, some Good Samaritan placed a $100 bill under my windshield wiper blade. The donor had packaged the treasure in a cellophane wrapper with a note about the gift of the Christ child.  Clearly, I had been blessed for  no good reason.  The implication seemed clear to me:  someone else needed to receive a similar blessing just because.  

As I thought about giving the gift away, or passing it along, my mind raced and I found the anticipation of giving the little treasure to someone who really needed it extremely satisfying. 

Arriving at CitySquare's Opportunity Center this morning, I observed a long line in queue to shop in our grocery store.  Our customers waited patiently to get in the building and out of the cold. 

Possibly my gift should go to one of these lovely persons. 

How would I decide?  There were so many people in need.  Who could know the correct choice?  As I stood almost paralyzed in my confused, elusive discernment, emotions flooded my heart.  Tears filled my eyes. 

Who could choose?

Everyone needed my gift.  The scale of the need just in our center outstripped the capacity of not only my meager offering, but our entire "blessing ecosystem." 

This many precious people, reduced to depending on charity to exist, infuriates me. 

It is so wrong. 

We can do so much better. . .if we decide we want to do better.  

And, oh yes, the $100 bill found its way into the grateful hands of a grandmother who came to "shop" for Christmas dinner. 

Thanks to the special angel who left the gift on my windshield.  It proved to be an eye-opening gift. 

Inhuman Generosity

One of the real special blessings of my life is friendship across miles and years.  My longtime friendship with Randy Jolly has meant the world to me.  Just today, Randy sent me one of his uplifting notes.  It is worth simply quoting. LJ

Larry,

A great quote from the recently departed poet Leonard Cohen:

"I'm very fond of Jesus Christ.  He may be the most beautiful guy who walked the face of the earth. Any guy who says, 'Blessed are the poor.  Blessed are the meek,' has got to be a figure of unparalled generosity and insight and madness. . . A man who declared himself to stnad among thieves, the prostitutes and the homeless.  His position cannot be comprehended.  It is an inhuman generosity.  A generosity that would overthrow the world if it was embarced becasue nothing would weather that compassion." 

Love you brother,
Randy

"Losers" and Hope

The past two mornings I've stopped by "Tent City II" on my way to the office. 

At the insistence of the Dallas City Council, city staff, including police, were given about two weeks to clean up the camp and remove the residents.

The scene: magnetic.  Both days, it literally pulled me into its center as I got out of my car (a huge luxury, by the way).

The pull connected my eyes to an extremely hard, harsh reality over the two-day period. 

Possibly 100 tents with the owners and others on day one. By 9:00 a.m. on day two, virtually everything had been removed, including most of the people.

Almost all of the residents were black. 

All possessed almost nothing. 

When rounded up by the city workers, these possessions formed giant piles that otherwise I would have classified as trash.  In fact, the piles represented the net worth of the departing owners. 

The deadline on this closing, harsh itself, fit the circumstances of the people I saw Monday and Tuesday.  Better, the deadline, completely unrealistic, framed our community response to the poorest, weakest and most vulnerable among us. 

We haul trash off. 

We move undesirable persons, even when they have no place to go. 

Some regard our homeless neighbors as inherent "losers." 

If you think about it and if you hear the stories of those being moved from under now the second bridge in our city, these people are definitely losers, just not inherently so.  

You see, each has lost something precious, invaluable and essential. In most cases the loss has been in multiple layers, as loss usually goes with people.

Losses like. . .

Health.

Children and grandchildren.

Mates.

Parents.

Relationships.

Marriages.

Jobs.

Options.

Sobriety.

Sanity.

Homes.

The list goes on. 

Maybe I'm off the edge here.  But, if I put myself in the shoes of these, the weakest among us, I'd hope for better from my hometown. 

But, how realistic would my hope actually be? 

What if I lost everything and became a real "loser" due to the loss, what could I expect?  Where could I place my trust at the lowest moment of my life?   To whom could I turn with a realistic expectation of receiving the help, the hand up I would certainly need to get back home?

Based on our community performance to date, my honest answers provide me no real comfort.

Sound theology

The Litmus Test

The religious traditions were in unanimous agreement. The one and only test of a valid religious idea, doctrinal statement, spiritual experience, or devotional practice was that it must lead directly to practical compassion. If your understanding of the divine made you kinder, more empathetic, and impelled you to express this sympathy in concrete acts of loving-kindness, this was good theology. But if your notion of God made you unkind, belligerent, cruel, or self-righteous, or if it led you to kill in God’s name, it was bad theology. Compassion was the litmus test.

Karen Armstrong
Source: The Spiral Staircase

Light

"The real crisis isn’t one night of young men in the street rioting. It’s something perhaps even more inexcusable — our own complacency at the systematic, long-term denial of equal opportunity to people based on their skin color and ZIP code."

 

Nicholas Kristof, "When Baltimore Burned,"

The New York Times, April 29, 2015

Hard, important work

The Social Workers

 We know where the homeless shelters are,

where flattened men sit, warmed by liquor

and the collective conscience

 

   of addition and handicap.  

We’ve seen them 

leaning against confetti-ed walls,

like flies on the carcass

of wasted years – a fading future.

 

We go to houses painted the shade 

of a nightmare;

coats of fear and abuse building up, 

concealing the shame and ignorance

of a life devoid of harmony

and strength in the daylight of love.

 

We sit in the foster homes

and place the injured offspring

into stations near the end 

of an awfully short road,

with any luck - free of maltreatment,

but still choking with the exhaust 

of separation and loss.

 

We glare past the packaging,

into the plastic hands of incubators

holding the two-pound result

of ambivalent conception and crack cravings.

We leave the county hospital startled

by the miniature creatures 

and the tubes keeping their faint rhythms alive.

 

We ring the AIDS center - beg them for an opening,

drop her off at the battered women’s shelter,

and latter query the housing authority,

then sigh when we’re reminded of the waiting list.

 

Sometimes our hearts aren’t in it

and often we’d die for another profession.

But if God returns while we’re still here

and we find ourselves in need of His attending to,

at least we’ll know where to find Him -

beside us - the social workers,

down and dirty with the least of us...

 

by Joshua Pulis, LCSW

Grown up Christmas list. . .

Volunteers who love. . .

Below I've shared a message that a volunteer organizer sent to his team after a Christmas meal served at CityWalk, our Downtown Dallas housing community.  The sentiment was so simple, sweet and significant that I had to pass it along.  Be blessed this Christmas!

 

All,

Thank you so much for your help last night with the Christmas Event for the residents at CitySquare.   This was our third year to participate and by far the best event yet.   

This morning early I was reading some material regarding love.   There was a paragraph in the material  that started with this:   “The best way to feel love is to give love."   I felt like we showed some of our Dallas community that we care about them and that we love them.   If only one person felt that we cared and loved them last night, then the whole effort was a huge success.  From my standpoint however,   I  think that many folks felt happy and loved last night as a result of the kindnesses you showed them.   For me, the Christmas season began last night.    I am so glad to have had the opportunity to share something this special with all of you.  

I am already thinking about the 2015 event and look forward to working with you again next year.  

Thank you all again.    I hope you have a very safe and happy Christmas season.  

Would you "see"?

No Corner today

Today snow, ice and cold shut us down at CitySquare.

Our kitchen in the Pantry closed.

Our food warehouse went dark.

Everyone either stayed at home or left early to get there as the weather worsened.

So, I didn't go the "the Corner" today.

No food or drink or coffee to share.

I didn't go, but some of my dear friends did. . .they live there and have few options.

The Corner has taught me that poverty offers few options and often no really good choices.

So, we didn't go.

But they were there in the snow, ice, wind, and what I expect felt like gray hunger.

The Corner has quickened my understanding of things.  It has altered my memory and my experience.

It snowed unexpectedly in Dallas today.

Many of my friends found themselves outside.

It is not enough to remember or to know.

My friends deserve so much more.  They deserve better.

As I say, it is not enough to remember or to know.