Sheltered

I've been thinking about writing this blog for a while now, but I've hesitated because writing it means not only facing attitudes I have that I'm not proud of, it also means baring my soul to my 15 followers... and random people from Kirksvill Missouri? and Kristiansand, Vest-Agder -- really? According to Feejit, I guess so.

First some background information: The church I attend runs a 24-7 homeless shelter. We've been at it for several years during which time we've helped countless people by giving meals, beds and clothing. We've also worked closely with outside agencies to help with everything from social services to education, rehab, recovery and the list goes on.
The "Shelter", as we call it at Southridge Community Church, is the most singular thing that has defined us in our community. When we say we attend Southridge, invariably the response is, "Oh ya; aren't you the guys who run the homeless shelter?"

Having said all this, much to my shame, I have not volunteered a single minute at the shelter. Apart from an education idea I pitched about 6 months ago, I had had no real contact with the shelter. Well that's not entirely true; Norm, a former shelter resident and fellow UFC fan, has been at my house a couple of times to watch pay-per-view events with about 10 other guys (Norm is a huge dude who is probably just outside to the left in the picture above).

About 3 or 4 weeks ago, I received an email from Annie, a gifted young person in charge of communications at the shelter. Her email read as follows:

"... Southridge Shelter does an annual retreat up to Muskoka Woods Sports Resort and this is our 4th year of this event. It has become a highlight in the year for community building and reconnecting with our friends here. Every year, we work to have people who would be great additions to the team come up with us.... We were putting together the Muskoka Woods retreat again this year and as we were talking about people to invite, your name came up! I've attached the poster for this year with some information on it, but also just wanted to see if you and Doris were interested in joining us?"
........................

It is now 2 weeks after the retreat. I had heard some things and -- as a fair-minded individual -- I had thought some things about the homeless. For example, as long as I can remember, I have intellectually acknowledged that there is no us and them. I believed that someone that's homeless or suffering from an addiction is not much different than someone who's not homeless or suffering from an addiction. I believed that, but I had never felt it in my heart until the retreat when I met some people, had some conversations and heard their stories.
It was not until I heard about some defining moments in people's lives -- being abandoned by one's mother, losing a child to cancer, having no choice but to live on the streets at all too young an age -- that something changed in my heart. And the irony is this: the realization wasn't so much a There but the grace of God go I type of thing. That's to say, it wasn't the realization that we're not that much different. Although that may be true, it's all too often a platitude. No. What I came away learning, which was truly humbling, was this: the people whom I had the privilege to meet and get to know for the first time in my life learned some things that I haven't learned. They have a foundational attitude toward life and relationships that I don't have. They've learned that the only way to get better in your soul and with other people is to be honest and genuine. I have learned to posture and be disingenuous. They've learned that the only way to stay well is to have an absolute and desperate dependence on God. I have learned that I'm pretty much okay, thanks; I've learned that a nominal "relationship" to a distant God is just fine.
Don't get me wrong. I am grateful for the privileged life I've lived. I'm merely saying that with the privilege of a good life comes the illusion that I'm good and my relationships are good, when in fact they might be okay at best or bad at worst.
It's really all a question of exteriors and interiors. The difference between us and them is that we look fine and they don't. But what's going on in one's soul, in one's heart? That's what I learned on the retreat from some really good-hearted people who have had pretty rough lives.
I'll end with this story. After 3 days of hanging out with people -- current and former shelter residents, volunteers and employees of the program -- I'd kind of forgotten that there was an us and them. On our way back home to Niagara, we stopped at a Tim Horton's off the 400 highway. Picture this: Two yellow school buses pull into the stop. Out pile 70 motley people of varying shapes, sizes, ages and outward appearances. We're all walking from the buses to the Tim's. There's a woman in a car that can't get to where she wants to because we're walking in front of her nice new silver Honda. She has this look of mingled shock and I don't know what... disgust? horror? Is it because she's impatient for us to get out of her way? No that doesn't explain it... Then it occurs to me: It's the look of what's parading in front of her. She's looking at the exterior. At that point, I remembered the words of Benoit (a French Canadian/fellow Habs fan I met on the retreat) who responds to people's pity when they say, "Oh, how sad that you reached a place so low in your life that you ended up in a homeless shelter" by saying "I thank God everyday of my life since the first day I walked through the doors of the shelter." He goes on to explain where his life is now because of encountering a caring community and a God who has helped him find health, wholeness and happiness.
So thank you to Annie who invited Doris and me to the retreat. And thank you to all the good and honest people we met who shared their stories with us. Our lives are better and we're wiser for it.