If you haven't been on the Amate House website recently, check it out. The new pictures and info are up for all of this years current volunteers. These are the people I am living and serving with for the year :)
http://www.amatehouse.org/Volunteer/CurrentVolunteers/tabid/1542/language/en-US/Default.aspx
Sunday, September 9, 2012
SECURITY!
This weekend, a group of us decided to volunteer at St.
Sabina’s Renaissance Fair. One of our
housemates is at St. Sabina’s for the year serving as an intake worker in their
social services department. Evidently,
the Renaissance Fair is an annual street festival that is put on by St. Sabina’s
to bring the community together. Named
for a local park, the fair spans a few blocks of 79th Street and is
not a fundraiser, but rather a fun event meant to offer some free or very low
cost food and activities for people in the surrounding areas.
Five of us woke up early Saturday morning to head over to
St. Sabina’s to help set up the festival.
We had all signed up to volunteer until noon, but hadn’t found out what
our positions were. When we arrived, we
noticed a list of different activities where people would be stationed – a petting
zoo, a ferris wheel, a bouncy house, a face painting booth…and the list went
on. We were all excited as we waited for
our names to be called. The first of our
group to learn his assignment was a quiet, docile housemate who is a little
taller than me and about the same weight.
“Ok, you’ll be on the corner of 79th and Elizabeth,” the
woman reading off assignments said to him.
With a somewhat puzzled face, he waited for the rest of the instructions
– a street corner didn’t really mean much.
Realizing he seemed confused, the woman said, “Make sure to grab a black
shirt and a name tag. You’ll be working
security.” It took everything in me not
to burst out laughing.
It may be important here to digress slightly and give a
little background on the neighborhood St. Sabina’s is in – it borders
Englewood, one of the toughest areas in Chicago. The neighborhood is called Auburn Grisham,
and it is somewhat notorious for its high crime rate and gang activity. The poverty and unemployment rates are high in
the neighborhood and the population is about 98% black. There are about 56,000 people living in a
span of about 4 square miles so the buildings are crowded and there are always
people walking around on the streets.
Anywho, back to the story.
I was barely containing my laughter as my housemate stood, still
startled, in the doorway to the room where we were all standing. Even though the woman had dismissed him, he didn’t
move. The rest of us waited patiently as
a few other volunteers’ names were called.
They were dismissed to various places – vendor booths and children’s
activities among other things. Finally
my name was called. “Head to 79th
and Throop,” the woman said, “and make sure you stop by the information booth
for your name tag and wristband.” I
silently prayed she was skipping my specific assignment because time was tight
and she needed people to start moving. I
grabbed my housemate by the wrist and pulled him out the door so I wouldn’t
have to go alone. When I arrived at the
information booth, my fear was confirmed – I was handed a black shirt and told
I would be working security. It is truly
a miracle I did not pee my pants right then and there. I mean picture it – I was standing there, 5’2”,
120 lbs, pale skin, blonde hair in a high side pony tail, wearing a tie-dyed
shirt and converse. Does anything about
that say “security” to you?
I dutifully put on the black t-shirt (size Large, because it was the smallest they had in security shirts) and walked down a few
blocks to my post. I stood, half
laughing at the hilarity of it all and half scared poop-less because I had no
idea what the heck I was supposed to do if God-forbid something went down. The first hour was quiet, there were not too
many people at the festival and some vendors were still setting up. The extent of my job consisted of shrugging
my shoulders when other volunteers asked me questions and smiling at people as
they passed by. Thankfully after the
first hour, I started seeing actually paid security officers and Chicago Police
officers patrolling the streets. One of the
security officers approached me to thank me for volunteering, and reassured me
that I was not being asked to intervene if anything bad happened, just to be
vigilant and report to an actual paid officer.
This was certainly a relief, particularly because I had had no
intentions of intervening anyway, but the conversation assuaged my feelings of
guilt over that plan.
In the end, it really was no big deal. I spent a few hours in the warm sun on a
beautiful day being the extra presence St. Sabina felt they needed. It was a cool way to people-watch, and a nice
opportunity to be immersed in a different community than where I have been
living or serving. And now, I can
officially say I have “worked” security (and I even have the t-shirt to prove
it!). Just another day in the life here
at Amate J
The Failure Keeps You Humble
A few lines from one of my favorite songs have been playing
over in my mind a lot lately. It’s a
part of a verse, and it goes like this:
“Castles and cathedrals crumble/ pyramids and pipelines tumble/ the failure keeps you humble/ and leads us closer to peace”
Sometimes at work, I inevitably feel like a failure. Sometimes it’s because I can’t remember how
to do something I know I’ve already been taught. Other times it’s because my Spanish skills
are lagging that day, or because I realize too late that I missed a
pre-screening question and already put the call through to my supervisor. And sometimes, I feel like a failure because
someone flat out tells me I am.
I deal with all sorts of clients (and potential clients) at
my service site. Some are moms, some are
dads, some are happy because they’ve been helped by our attorneys, some are sad
because they call on behalf of a loved one who is incarcerated, some are young,
some are elderly, some are angry at a spouse or a stranger or the world, some
are hard-working people facing unfair circumstances, some are ex-felons trying
to start life over, and some are mentally ill and have been abandoned by
friends and family and society. While
sometimes I am the person that gets to deliver the happy news that we can
accept someone’s case or that we can get someone the right services, it seems
like more often I am the bearer of bad news.
Sometimes when I have to direct a potential client to
another agency, the person is grateful for the referral. Other times, people are discouraged by being
passed along from person to person. And
sometimes, people are just plain angry.
Most of the time, I am able to not take it personally. People aren’t really mad at me, they are mad
at “the system.” They are mad at the
injustices they face, they are mad that everyone seems to be working against
them, and they are mad that they haven’t found help. I think that’s justified – sometimes I’m mad
too. I hear stories from potential
clients that get me so angry I feel my own stomach knotting and head aching,
and I’m not even personally involved. I
can empathize with their pain and I wish with all my heart that there was
something our organization could do. In
cases like that, I try to stay positive for the potential client. I do my best to make a good referral, and to
keep an optimistic tone, and to encourage potential clients not to give up
hope. Sometimes it helps the people, and
sometimes I just get an angry grunt or a hang-up in response. Either way, I try my best not to take it
personally. Admittedly, though,
sometimes I can’t help but take the responses to heart.
The time that a client told me I was a terrible person for
denying her help when she was both elderly and disabled – I took it
personally. I felt like I was failing
her. In truth, I was doing all I could –
there was no way we could get her the help she needed in the timeframe she had,
and I tried to refer her to another agency that could move more quickly, but
she was already too jaded by the system to listen to or believe me. Still, I felt like I had failed her because I
became just another disembodied voice over the phone offering her nothing but
more phone numbers to call, which would only use up more of her time - time
that she did not have.
That’s just one of several stories I could tell, but I think
it gets the point across. But this post
isn’t meant to be all negative. You see,
the song says that failure keeps us humble, and in fact leads us closer to
peace. I think that’s true. Moments where we feel a sense of failure –
James Martin would say that’s God bringing us down just a peg, keeping our ego
in check. Sometimes it’s easy to get
caught up in the successes – to feel good about the work you do and the people
you serve. Don’t get me wrong – that’s a
good thing. But when you go a long time
of feeling good, sometimes you get too prideful, too self-serving, you forget
the point of what you’re doing.
Sometimes we need those moments of failure to keep us humble, to remind
us of the bigger picture or to remind us that we are not the be-all and
end-all. And I think when we are humble,
we see the way to peace. When we
remember we are all human, all flawed, all inadequate, we can remember to be
forgiving of one another; and in forgiving one another, we are better equipped
to live in harmony. And living in
harmony, we come to know peace.
"Well, That's Inconvenient."
One night last weekend, almost all of my housemates decided
to go out for a night on the town. One
of my housemates and I decided to hang back since we were both tired from a
long week and in the mood to just stay in with a good book or movie. As we both sat in the living room, we got to
talking about different things that had been happening at our service sites and
in our community, and just about life in general. As we were talking about some trivial thing
that had happened, she said, “I thought to myself, well that’s inconvenient.” I
agreed, and as a lull came over the conversation and we both were a little lost
in thought, she said, “You know, that phrase is kind of what Amate is about, I
think.”
At first I didn’t understand what she meant, but as she
continued I understood and agreed. “Sometimes
things are supposed to feel
inconvenient here. That’s part of the
solidarity, you know? We don’t need
everything at our fingertips. That’s not
how the people we serve are living.” She
was right. She had put to words what we
had both been struggling with recently. Sometimes
it is easy to feel frustrated with the inconveniences we encounter here –
things like having to wait a few extra days to cash your monthly stipend check
because your train was late and the bank closed before you got home, or having
to walk to the store because someone forgot to return car keys to the cork
board in the kitchen. Yes, these are
little inconveniences we face living in a community of volunteers that
sometimes feel like the most annoying things possible. But how many inconveniences do the people we
are serving face? Waiting in line at a
food pantry and being told you can only select a limited quantity of items from
an already limited variety – that’s
inconvenient. Calling a legal aid firm
because you’re about to be evicted from your apartment, only to be told no one
can help you and that you should try another phone number (and another, and
another) – that’s inconvenient. Having to
eat the crummy school lunch put in front of you because your parents can’t
afford enough food for the whole family and it might be the only thing you eat
all day – that’s inconvenient. Hell, let’s be honest – those are BEYOND
inconvenient. They are unfair disparities
people face because of their economic status.
They are stupid hoops people have to jump through just to survive. So maybe this calls for a change of
attitude. Maybe my having to wait in
line behind eleven other people to put food on my plate at dinner isn’t so
inconvenient, because I have a dinner to eat.
Maybe riding the packed, hot, uncomfortable subway train for 55 minutes to
and from my service site every day isn’t so inconvenient because at least I
have a job to go to. Maybe this year little
inconveniences are put in our way to remind us just how privileged we really are.
The Journey Continues...
For those of you still following my faith journey here at
Amate (particularly the journey to find a place of Worship) – the journey
continues. So far, I have visited a few
different Catholic parishes including St. Sabina’s, St. Maurice, Holy Name, and
Our Lady of Good Counsel. All of them
have been nice in their own sort of way, but none have quite fit the bill.
As a new experience, over Labor Day weekend a few of my
housemates and I visited a new kind of Church.
One of my housemates is Christian but not Catholic, and she does not
identify with any particular denomination but has attended many different types
of services in her life. She has been
kind enough to come along with the rest of us to a Mass each weekend, and some
of us decided it was time for us to broaden our minds and share in her
preferred faith experience too. On
Sunday, we went to Judson Baptist Church – the congregation her parents are
presently a part of during their search for a consistent place to worship. I was excited to go because I wanted to
support my housemate and to gain a better understanding of her faith
experience. She and I have shared some
beautiful conversations about how we have learned to live out our faith and
express our spirituality, so I was anxious for a first hand view.
Overall, it was an interesting experience. There was upbeat praise and worship meeting,
an obvious sense of fellowship and welcoming atmosphere, and a sermon full of
many references to Scripture. While I knew
that the service didn’t fill me the way that Catholic Mass does, it did nourish
another part of me that needed attention to.
Let’s be real, I’m a bit of a Jesus freak at heart and I love me some
quality praise and worship music. I was
able to remember the feeling I would get while singing and praying at an even
like “LIFT” or “God in the North End” back at school. It was nice to be surrounded by people who
weren’t afraid to sing out loud and proud about how awesome God is J.
After church, my housemate’s parents were gracious enough to
have the whole house over for a delicious meal.
It was so nice to have a family away from home to take care of us for a
little while. All in all it was a lovely
day – I didn’t find my new home parish away from home, but I was most certainly
fed in more ways than one. And so, the
journey continues…
Beauty in the Pain
Sometimes, working the front desk is monotonous. There are times I cringe at the sound of my
own voice cheerily saying “Thank you for calling, how may I help you?” because
I’ve done it fifty or a hundred times in a day.
There are times it feels so mundane to type information into a computer
or repeat the same instructions for our basic procedures. Some days my heart physically aches to do
what in my mind is real ministry, real service.
And then, there are days when I am reminded that my work is God’s work.
I had such a day a few weeks ago. I received a call from a woman looking for
help for her son. At the beginning of
the call, her voice was riddled with a tone of skepticism and concern. I followed my standard line of pre-screening
questions to figure out what exactly she needed. She hesitated to explain his situation at
first, and finally conceded that her son was facing criminal charges and was
currently incarcerated. She began
unpacking the story further, saying with conviction she believed he was
wrongfully accused and was scared for him.
She had no money for an attorney, but he didn’t qualify for a public
defender because he had posted bond.
After a few minutes, in a flustered but tentatively hopeful tone she
said, “Is there any way y’all could do
something for him?” I told her from what
I had heard we indeed might be able to help, and explained she would have to
come in-person to the office to fill out some paperwork on his behalf so
someone could visit him in prison.
Suddenly her voice grew louder and was full of joy. She began praising God for his goodness and
for leading her to the right place. As
we finished talking, I was about to hang up when she said “Wait! One more
thing.” “Sure,” I said, “what do you
need?” “When’s your lunch hour?” she
asked. I was so caught off guard – I had
expected her to ask directions or remind her what information to bring. “Oh, um, well sometimes at 12 or sometimes at
1,” I said, “but no matter what someone
will be at the desk to help you.” “But I
want to see YOU, I want to talk to YOU” she said. I laughed and told her I looked forward to
seeing her, and she said she’d come later in the afternoon.
When she walked through to door around 2:30, I immediately
knew it was her. Before she spoke a
word, something in my heart felt the connection. Our eyes met and we both just smiled. I said “I’m glad you made it in” and she said
“I’m glad you knew it was me.” We both
flashed big smiles as I got her the paperwork and showed her how to fill it
out. She sat down and diligently filled
it out as I went back to entering data into our system. When she finished, she handed me back the
clipboard and thanked me again. I sat
back down and assured her I’d file the papers right away; she said goodbye and
headed toward the door. After a few
steps, she stopped and turned around.
“Um, Deirdre?” she said. “Do you
think I could give you a hug?”
Surprised but thrilled, I walked around the desk and through
the doors into the lobby. We put our
arms around each other and held tightly.
In that embrace, I felt so humbled and so blessed - to walk a small piece of a painful journey
with her, to know a fraction of her story, to hold her in her pain and be a
part of the glimmer of hope she needed.
After a moment we let go of one another.
She wiped away a few tears then turned and walked away. As I sat back down, I smiled through tears of
gratefulness for God’s goodness. That
day, we both needed each other. She
needed someone to listen to her story, to believe in her, to tell her things
would be ok. I needed someone to remind
me my service has meaning, that God is in the midst of it, that humble work is
God’s work. And together, we found a
beauty in the pain.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Updates Coming Soon - I Promise!
Hello to anyone still following me! I apologize for the delay in updates. I have several blog posts ready to go, but haven't had much access to the house computer to get them posted. I'm headed to bed now but promise to make time to post this weekend!
Missing you all dearly and sending lots of love <3
Missing you all dearly and sending lots of love <3
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Some Pictures from Around the City
Here's a little slice of the city so you all can see some of the sights... Enjoy!
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| At EdgeFest they had a "Before I die" board. It was pretty full when we got there so we didn't add to it, but here's what it looked like. |
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| One of the neat things about Chicago is that you can be at a beach but still have a view of the skyline - a cool way to have a bit of both worlds. |
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| A shot of the bright lights downtown. This area is nice to walk around , and sometimes we catch a bus right near here to get to Navy Pier. |
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| One day when we were in the city a group of us splurged on some "Sprinkles" cupcakes. It was my first time trying them, and I would definitely say they were worth the wait and the price. |
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| The Ferris Wheel at Navy Pier is really pretty when it's lit up at night. |
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| In the summer there are fireworks on Wednesday and Saturday nights. I managed to make it there twice to see them, and they were very well done. One of many great free events in the city :) |
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| This past Friday I got to go to my first ever professional baseball game. My coworkers and I got free tickets to see the Cubs play the Giants at Wrigley Field. It was a very warm summer afternoon but still a great experience. |
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| The Cubs won the game!! (Which I understand to be a rarity...) |
That's just a little taste of some of the places I have seen and explored. Hopefully there will be much more to come throughout the year :)
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