We've learned this lesson at CitySquare.
Words and their selection really matter a lot!
For example,
. . .neighbor is better than client.
. . .concierge is better than case worker.
. . .investment is better than gift.
. . .return on investment is better than outcome.
. . .community development is better than charity.
. . .opportunity is better than delivering services.
. . .friendship is better than programming.
Enjoy this example of perspective. . . .
Showing posts with label friendship and community. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friendship and community. Show all posts
Friday, June 12, 2015
Monday, November 04, 2013
Football at "the Corner"
Last Thursday a great group from Texas Instruments found us at "the Corner."
Wooo Hooo! did we have us a party!
Our new friends brought a giant grill on which they cooked over a hundred hamburgers and even more hot dogs with all the trimmings, including fresh fruit, fleece blankets and hundreds of hygiene kits.
Sure, it was another "stop gap" event; but something more was going on as well.
These volunteers from TI really "mingled" among the homeless friends who passed through the experience.
They actually took the time to talk, to question, to listen and to simply connect.
It was beautiful!
One white-haired gentleman approached and asked, "What's the occasion?"
"No occasion, really" I replied. "Just people hanging out with other great people, and a great group of folks from TI."
"Have they come to give us jobs?" he asked.
I found out that he had made a career of driving trucks cross country. He needed work, even though he appeared to be well past retirement age.
He settled for the meal and fellowship. I'm praying for the day when real, living wage jobs show up.
About an hour into the "party" something told me to get a football out of my car. I've had this seemingly crazy idea for several weeks. I just sensed that barely beneath the surface I could find pent up energy and desire for games.
I started playing catch with my friend, Blue.
Soon several were wanting in the game! Even Billy Merendino, the owner of the filling station on whose driveway we were playing was throwing the ball around!
It was magic!
But, no surprise, right?
People are born to play!
We are all the same.
Take it from me, all of us are the same.
Wooo Hooo! did we have us a party!
Our new friends brought a giant grill on which they cooked over a hundred hamburgers and even more hot dogs with all the trimmings, including fresh fruit, fleece blankets and hundreds of hygiene kits.
Sure, it was another "stop gap" event; but something more was going on as well.
These volunteers from TI really "mingled" among the homeless friends who passed through the experience.
They actually took the time to talk, to question, to listen and to simply connect.
It was beautiful!
One white-haired gentleman approached and asked, "What's the occasion?"
"No occasion, really" I replied. "Just people hanging out with other great people, and a great group of folks from TI."
"Have they come to give us jobs?" he asked.
I found out that he had made a career of driving trucks cross country. He needed work, even though he appeared to be well past retirement age.
He settled for the meal and fellowship. I'm praying for the day when real, living wage jobs show up.
About an hour into the "party" something told me to get a football out of my car. I've had this seemingly crazy idea for several weeks. I just sensed that barely beneath the surface I could find pent up energy and desire for games.
I started playing catch with my friend, Blue.
Soon several were wanting in the game! Even Billy Merendino, the owner of the filling station on whose driveway we were playing was throwing the ball around!
It was magic!
But, no surprise, right?
People are born to play!
We are all the same.
Take it from me, all of us are the same.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
The streets elevate sadness to amazing levels.
The streets of a city offer up a taste of hell.
Today, I sat on the corner in the howling wind. The wind chill had to be in the 30s.
We drank coffee, ate cookies and talked about life.
I heard some unforgettable things.
"Man, I've picked up 'bout 4 pounds of cans in less than an hour. I've got to get back to mama. Can I take her some of this coffee and some cookies? She is crippled and has a hard time gettin' 'round."
"The wind's blowin' and it's so cold."
"Pray for my brother, George. He has two more years to do in the TDC" (Texas Department of Corrections). "Pray for him that he'll be able to handle his trials and temptations and come out okay."
"Where's the trash?" more than one homeless person asked as they tried to find a place to dispose of cups, cream containers, etc.
"People in those big buildings are under the pressure of billions of dollars. We're under the pressure, no less difficult, of zero billions!" a wise man said with a laugh.
"How cold is it gonna get tonight?
Several times as folks walked away with hot coffee in hand, "Have a Merry Christmas!"
An old woman with a European accent, "May I have that box? Do you have coffee for me?"
"I can make it fine so long as its only in the 30s or 40s, after that I have to go to a shelter."
"Things happened that put people out here; we weren't born out here. But once you're out here for a while, things change inside you and things change back there and it's hard to get back; and if you get back, so much has changed that you feel lost and you can't make it."
A very young man carrying a large, black trash bag asked me, "Do you know where a person could buy a tent?"
I'm not sure why, but I left the corner filled with sadness today. Such good people, enjoyable souls, people I love to "hang with," out in the cold trying, as one man said, "to just make it from day to day."
As I left, I waved back to my friend, "Blue." He returned my wave. I hope to see him next week.
Friday, November 09, 2012
Terry
His beard was magnificent!
The slightly built, Caucasian man rode up on a nice looking bicycle just as I was unloading more water from my truck for distribution on "the Corner."
"Have anything to eat?" he asked hopefully.
"No, sorry," I replied, "just water today."
"That's okay," he said.
His name is Terry.
"Nice bike," I observed. "It looks new."
"No, not new, but in pretty good shape," he commented. "A guy gave me this bike."
"Really?" I responded.
"Yes, he ran over my old one, so he gave me this one as a replacement," he explained as I admired his ride.
We talked for a long time. He explained that he was a street entertainer.
"I do card tricks and tell jokes for tips," he informed me.
"Where?" I asked.
"Deep Ellum," he replied.
"So, you work the clubs on the sidewalks?" I asked.
"Yes, but I know which ones to pick," he beamed.
He told me that he had staked out a private, secret place where he stowed his belongings and where he bedded down. He didn't like the shelters because once in, you can't get out until early morning.
"I don't have much stuff," he noted as we talked about securing belongings.
"Really, if you're happy on the inside and a pleasant person on the outside, that's all that matters," he declared.
"Happy on the inside" and "a pleasant person on the outside"--hmmm.
Sounds like a Rx for contentment.
"I used to be materialistic, but I've gone beyond that," he told me.
Wisdom from a new friend. I'd never seen Terry before yesterday.
I certainly hope to see him again.
Wednesday, November 07, 2012
Respect among friends
Here's a video shoot of the giant meal we enjoyed last week just down the street from "the Porch."
The idea originated during a conversation I was having with a homeless friend.
"You know what?" he declared as we spoke.
"No, what?" I replied.
"We need to throw a big-ole party out here for everyone!"
So, we did!
The event included about 300 homeless neighbors, construction workers from across the street, local business owners, students from Abilene Christian University, CitySquare team members, folks from bcWorkshop and passersby! In all, thanks to Edd Eason and his amazing, gigantic smoker on a trailer, we provided a great lunch for about 400 folks.
But the event wasn't about feeding. It was all about enjoying real friendship. It was a luncheon thrown in honor of RESPECT.
Simple as that.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Thin Places
Maybe you've experienced one.
You find yourself in place that seems to "connect" with other realities, either in your past or possibly a sense of what might be ahead for you.
Some refer to these extraordinary experiences or realities "thin places," those locations or dimensions that touch the "other side" of life, allowing you to sense something at work beyond your control but important for your life.
I moved up against such a "thin place" recently while visiting with homeless friends at The Corner (Malcolm X and Dawson where I pass out ice water almost every Thursday).
Two gentlemen approached, each taking a bottle of water. We chatted for a bit, talking about the day, the project across the street and life. One of the men, Eric, said something that told me he was not originally from Dallas. When I asked about his home, he told me that he was from Shreveport, Louisiana. I shared that I had lived in Shreveport for two years and forty-five minutes! The back story on that comment will need to wait for another post!
I took a seat on the porch of Billy's old, abandoned house. My new friend from Shreveport sat on the steps just above the sidewalk. We both enjoyed the shade.
After a few minutes, I took a chance and asked a pretty far-fetched question.
"Did you ever know a guy in Shreveport named Wayne Nelson?" I asked.
A little background. Now, I first met Wayne when he was 10-years-old. I was a very young minister working at a church in the heart of the city located between a very rich, old neighborhood and a very poor historic community.
Wayne lived with his grandmother across the street from my church in one of the row houses that had degenerated into a slum block, owned by a slum lord.
The day we met Wayne was outside the church attempting to get a drink of water from a fountain that hadn't worked in years. When I happened to walk out of the church, Wayne jumped on his bike and flew away! I shouted for him to come back, and he did.
"Come inside. We have a ice cold drinking fountain," I told him. [What is it about water and this very 'thin place'?] We went inside, Wayne got a long drink of cold water and our friendship began!
Wayne became the first African American guest in our declining church, maybe the first ever. But that gets into the back story that will have to wait for another day.
He visited with me after school most afternoons. He came to our house for meals and play and fun.
By the time we moved to New Orleans, Wayne had turned 12. He really wanted to move with us. I've often wondered what might have happened had we worked that out with his granny.
Wayne seemed developmentally challenged. He was not as far along as other children his age. I really loved the kid, and he loved me. But, I haven't heard from him in years.
Fast forward to the corner and back to my crazy question to my new friend, Eric.
"Did you ever know a guy in Shreveport named Wayne Nelson?"
"Black guy?" Eric asked thoughtfully.
"Yes," I replied.
"Crazy Wayne?" he exclaimed. "Everybody knows Crazy Wayne!" exclaimed.
"What do you mean by 'crazy,'" I pressed.
"You know, kinda slow," he explained.
"Yes, that sounds like it could be him," I said.
"Man, I stayed there by Wayne," he told me.
"You mean you lived in the row of houses across the street from the church?" I asked with growing wonder.
"Yes, right there off of Southern Avenue," he explained.
"My church was on Southern Avenue!" by now almost shouting at Eric!
"Wayne's doing good these days. He lives out by my sister," he told me.
"Was he a skinny guy?" Eric asked
"A rail," I replied.
"Yep, that's him. He was always skinny, skinny, but now he's fat!" he explained through a mounting laugh.
"Eric, do you know the odds that we would meet on this corner almost 40 years after I met Wayne Nelson and have this conversation?" I asked him and myself.
"My sister sees him," Eric offered.
"Next time you talk to your sister would you tell her to tell Wayne that Larry, the preacher said 'hello'?"
I intend to try to find Wayne.
But one thing is certain to me. The Porch on The Corner is a mighty "thin place."
You find yourself in place that seems to "connect" with other realities, either in your past or possibly a sense of what might be ahead for you.
Some refer to these extraordinary experiences or realities "thin places," those locations or dimensions that touch the "other side" of life, allowing you to sense something at work beyond your control but important for your life.
I moved up against such a "thin place" recently while visiting with homeless friends at The Corner (Malcolm X and Dawson where I pass out ice water almost every Thursday).
Two gentlemen approached, each taking a bottle of water. We chatted for a bit, talking about the day, the project across the street and life. One of the men, Eric, said something that told me he was not originally from Dallas. When I asked about his home, he told me that he was from Shreveport, Louisiana. I shared that I had lived in Shreveport for two years and forty-five minutes! The back story on that comment will need to wait for another post!
I took a seat on the porch of Billy's old, abandoned house. My new friend from Shreveport sat on the steps just above the sidewalk. We both enjoyed the shade.
After a few minutes, I took a chance and asked a pretty far-fetched question.
"Did you ever know a guy in Shreveport named Wayne Nelson?" I asked.
A little background. Now, I first met Wayne when he was 10-years-old. I was a very young minister working at a church in the heart of the city located between a very rich, old neighborhood and a very poor historic community.
Wayne lived with his grandmother across the street from my church in one of the row houses that had degenerated into a slum block, owned by a slum lord.
The day we met Wayne was outside the church attempting to get a drink of water from a fountain that hadn't worked in years. When I happened to walk out of the church, Wayne jumped on his bike and flew away! I shouted for him to come back, and he did.
"Come inside. We have a ice cold drinking fountain," I told him. [What is it about water and this very 'thin place'?] We went inside, Wayne got a long drink of cold water and our friendship began!
Wayne became the first African American guest in our declining church, maybe the first ever. But that gets into the back story that will have to wait for another day.
He visited with me after school most afternoons. He came to our house for meals and play and fun.
By the time we moved to New Orleans, Wayne had turned 12. He really wanted to move with us. I've often wondered what might have happened had we worked that out with his granny.
Wayne seemed developmentally challenged. He was not as far along as other children his age. I really loved the kid, and he loved me. But, I haven't heard from him in years.
Fast forward to the corner and back to my crazy question to my new friend, Eric.
"Did you ever know a guy in Shreveport named Wayne Nelson?"
"Black guy?" Eric asked thoughtfully.
"Yes," I replied.
"Crazy Wayne?" he exclaimed. "Everybody knows Crazy Wayne!" exclaimed.
"What do you mean by 'crazy,'" I pressed.
"You know, kinda slow," he explained.
"Yes, that sounds like it could be him," I said.
"Man, I stayed there by Wayne," he told me.
"You mean you lived in the row of houses across the street from the church?" I asked with growing wonder.
"Yes, right there off of Southern Avenue," he explained.
"My church was on Southern Avenue!" by now almost shouting at Eric!
"Wayne's doing good these days. He lives out by my sister," he told me.
"Was he a skinny guy?" Eric asked
"A rail," I replied.
"Yep, that's him. He was always skinny, skinny, but now he's fat!" he explained through a mounting laugh.
"Eric, do you know the odds that we would meet on this corner almost 40 years after I met Wayne Nelson and have this conversation?" I asked him and myself.
"My sister sees him," Eric offered.
"Next time you talk to your sister would you tell her to tell Wayne that Larry, the preacher said 'hello'?"
I intend to try to find Wayne.
But one thing is certain to me. The Porch on The Corner is a mighty "thin place."
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Failed tour, but incredible conversation
A couple of weeks ago I was sitting at the corner on "the porch" and I had a good visit with my homeless friend, Buck.
He asked me what we did at CitySquare and I tried to answer him.
As we talked, I threw out the offer, "Buck, I need to take you on a tour of CitySquare so you could see firsthand what we do!"
Last week, Buck reminded me of my offer.
"When are we going to do that tour, Larry?" he asked.
I pulled out my calendar.
"How about next Wednesday at 11:30?" I offered.
"I'll be here," he said. And, as he was leaving about an hour later, he reminded me of the tour date.
So, on Wednesday at 11:30, I show up. Ironically, I left the offices of one of the wealthiest men in Dallas to connect with Buck, one of the poorest.
No Buck.
No telling what happened to delay or block him. I'm sure I'll find out when I see him next. I pray he is okay.
As I waited on him to show up, another gentleman who I know approached me. In 5 minutes he poured out his heart.
"I need you to know that I'm working hard to get my heart right to get away from this corner," he explained.
"I'm working at my church to get my soul strong so I can pull away from all of this," he went on.
We talked for a good while. I offered him the housing resources of CitySquare and we made plans for him to come by our offices Downtown to get his name on the "waiting list" to get into an apartment. I really believe he will follow through. He is such a good man.
And, he understands respect and community and the role of faith in life.
I know I'll see Buck again. We will have our tour.
But, the visit I had with my other friend was a visit that was supposed to happen.
Know what I mean?
He asked me what we did at CitySquare and I tried to answer him.
As we talked, I threw out the offer, "Buck, I need to take you on a tour of CitySquare so you could see firsthand what we do!"
Last week, Buck reminded me of my offer.
"When are we going to do that tour, Larry?" he asked.
I pulled out my calendar.
"How about next Wednesday at 11:30?" I offered.
"I'll be here," he said. And, as he was leaving about an hour later, he reminded me of the tour date.
So, on Wednesday at 11:30, I show up. Ironically, I left the offices of one of the wealthiest men in Dallas to connect with Buck, one of the poorest.
No Buck.
No telling what happened to delay or block him. I'm sure I'll find out when I see him next. I pray he is okay.
As I waited on him to show up, another gentleman who I know approached me. In 5 minutes he poured out his heart.
"I need you to know that I'm working hard to get my heart right to get away from this corner," he explained.
"I'm working at my church to get my soul strong so I can pull away from all of this," he went on.
We talked for a good while. I offered him the housing resources of CitySquare and we made plans for him to come by our offices Downtown to get his name on the "waiting list" to get into an apartment. I really believe he will follow through. He is such a good man.
And, he understands respect and community and the role of faith in life.
I know I'll see Buck again. We will have our tour.
But, the visit I had with my other friend was a visit that was supposed to happen.
Know what I mean?
Wednesday, August 01, 2012
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