Intern's Introspections Week 2: Pardons at the Gardens

Yesterday I went to South Street, expecting to help with the Urban Gardens program. There were kids gathered, playing basketball and digging a hole in the front yard. I walked out of my car, getting tackled by one of the girls that comes to many of the programs.

At about 6:01pm, it hit me--there was no Urban Garden programming tonight. All at once, I found myself surrounded by twelve young kids and no programming.

To be completely honest, my automatic reaction was to leave. There was no programming tonight, therefore I had no need to be there that Thursday evening. I was contemplating leaving when suddenly I snapped to reality. I was standing next to a pile of concrete where another girl was sitting, watching the other kids play basketball. I stared at her and saw her stare back at me with big, beautiful brown eyes. I felt remorse and conviction immediately. Man. I had forgotten why I was here this summer again.

In that moment, the programming had replaced presence once again. It’s so easy for me to get wrapped up in the "when where why" and forget the "who." Here I was at South Street, surrounded by children, and yet I was about to leave for home to go sit by myself. 

The Executive Director of South Street said that programming is an excuse to be in relationship with the neighbors and people around us. The programming isn’t the focus, the people and the relationships that are cultivated as a result of the programming are the focus. In my task-oriented mind, it is easy to see the programming as the goal and not relationships, creating in me a heart that cares more about what is done (summer programming) rather than the people participating (aka the kids). 

How drastically different that evening looked when I sat down my task-oriented agenda and picked up the agenda of compassion.     

I crouched next to the girl on the concrete pile and asked her about her day at school. She told me about how she had gone to the zoo. That, of course, let to an entire entourage of questions, and we chatted about animals and school and learning.

From there, the evening progressed. “Let’s toss helicopters off of the balcony!” I was shocked to find that none of them knew what helicopters were. We traipsed to the back yard and picked up handfuls of the boomerang shaped leaf objects, tossing them from the balcony and onto a child who giggled joyously as they fell on her face.

We swang, talked about their schools, talked about my school, learned names through repetition and strange questions, played animal Charades. There was laughter and smiles--oh, and trust me, a fair share of fighting, bickering, and name calling. But I found that the seemingly frustrating moments were eclipsed by the radiance of other times.

Like the time a boy yelled at me, extremely concerned, “THERE’S A BUG ON YOUR LEG! THERE’S A BUG ON YOUR LEG!” After I couldn’t find it, he heroically came over and shooed the ant from my calf. We watched it crawl away into the bushes.

And the other time where we all sat down together on the picnic table. One child sat on my lap and the rest gathered around as we guessed animal Charades. “DUCK! CAT! GOAT!” There was laughter as one child was a snake.

As I gathered up my stuff, I was greeted by “DON’T LEAVE! DON’T LEAVE!” In response, I got to say my favorite sentences--“I'll be back! I’m going to be here all summer!” All summer.

All summer.

Practicing the presence of compassion.

The Front Porch

"The Front Porch is South Street's between space.

Between rich and poor. 

Between black and white.

Between the Church and the world.

Between stranger and neighbor.

Cross the threshold & join us in a space to be still, 

stay sober, find work, connect, serve, eat, & worship."

-From South Street Ministries' website

The Front Porch, as I witnessed it on Friday, May 24th, 2013

1. White bulb lights strung across pillars.

2. Mahogany walls, creating a warm atmosphere.

3. The tinkle of waterfalls into aquariums where fish swim about.

4. Sunlight streaming through raised plant beds.

5. People gathered around circular tables, building bridges of friendships.

6. “I got my license!” announced to all around with “Congrats!” in reply.

7. A quiet wave and smile from a stranger across the room.

8. Boisterous laughter bouncing off the mahogany walls.

9. Feeling a sense of community as a visitor.

10. Seeing authenticity and hope abound.

Intern's Introspections: Week 1

“Greater things have yet to come

And greater things are still to be done in this city

Greater things have yet to come

And greater things are still to be done here.”

South Street. Like every other area, South Akron and Summit Lake is a place of brokenness. The brokenness of this area manifests itself in different ways—a through addictions, abuse, and anger/violence. People are homeless, in poverty, incarcerated, and stuck in cycles that make in nearly impossible for one to get out alone or even with help. Granted, the sentences above are huge stereotypes and are not to be interpreted as the case for everyone in the city, as each person has their own individualistic experiences. These are simply observations after spending a week immersed in this area and listening to those who have lived here for a while.

Growing up in the suburbs of Akron, I have not had much experience in the city. From going down a one-way street the wrong way, to getting stuck in a parking deck, it is obvious that my knowledge is limited. For this reason, being at South Street has been a bit of a culture shock. In the last week I have found myself perplexed by the reality that I live a mere 10 minutes from this area and yet it seems like I’m traveling between different cultures entirely. People around South Street walk on the side walks, confidently, heads down or looking out. Bikes dart around cars on narrow lanes. People walk in groups to the corner store, coming out with Pepsi and candy. When I am at South Street, I am in the minority, as a majority of the people I interact with are African American.

When I travel the twelve minutes to my house, it all changes. I am suddenly the majority as a Caucasian in the suburban area that I live in. Silence encompasses the streets, as all are in their households. People aren’t walking about. Even by the lake, it is clear that everyone sticks to themselves—there is little interaction with others. There are high values of safety and security (manifesting itself in the form of comfort) that hang think in the air. The environments are strangely perplexing when put together. Again, these are huge generalizations of these areas, and are not to be taken as the reality of what each one is. It simply reflects my experiences as I commute and spend a lot of time in each environment every day.

If there’s one thing I have been so swept up with this week is the possibilities of people and the impact we can have on our surroundings if action is taken. My heart is aching for my generation. My generation has the potential (as all do) to utilize their strengths for the common good. Yet in my own life, I have found that I, among others, am stuck in cycles of apathy and complacency. For me, it took discovering that my life’s story isn’t about me that drove me to other-centered action. The question I have rolling in my mind is this: What conviction can bring a generation to action? At South Street Ministries, action abounds. For the ministry, it comes from a conviction Christ’s resurrection and the implications of this. On the website in the mission section it is stated that “We are Christians, but Christ's sake is deeper. For the sake of Christ we suffer, serve, give, and lose to see Christ formed in our neighbor and in ourselves.” The conviction of Christ’s love leads those in the ministry to action, including myself.

In this past week, I have seen the power of love in action, and the restoration and reconciliation that active love can bring. Example after example could be listed here, as it is part of the reason I was so drawn to South Street Ministries in the first place. I yearn to see this active love lived out throughout the city, and not only in the city, but in the suburbs and in the country. I yearn to see active love among the rich and poor, that hands would connect and that these two groups would be bridged in compassion. I yearn to see black and white finally transformed and seen as colors, not race constructions and excuses for discrimination and hate. I yearn to see gender not being abused as power that is used to cripple another. I yearn, I yearn, I yearn.

And I truly believe that these can be realities that are strived for in my generation and through my generation. With the courage to be vulnerable, we can approach one another and try to find a common ground on which we can stand. Constructs can be knocked down through active love. People can own their strengths and give them as gifts to one another and aid with the process of reconciliation through active love.

Of course, this all sounds great in theory, but my question as I finish my first week at South Street Ministries is still this:

What conviction can bring a generation to action?

As always, if one feels as if I have misrepresented someone in some way or if something I have said has been bothersome, please bring it to my attention and into the light so we can talk about it together.

Much love,

Am

“Greater things have yet to come

And greater things are still to be done in this city

Greater things have yet to come

And greater things are still to be done here.”

From: www.youtube.com/watch?v=HgQccYki-9Y

South Street Ministries: www.southstreetministries.org

And So We Go

My journey to being an intern at South Street Ministries has been nothing but ordinary in my opinion. Here is an account of how I was introduced to South Street, and the journey that blossomed from there.

It was about a year ago that I hopped in the car with my dad and headed to South Street Ministries. His workplace, Kaiser Permanente was doing a day of service, and they were volunteering at this non-profit in the city of Akron. I had been recruited to take photos for the day, which I was ecstatic about. The group was building a fence around one of the local Urban Gardens that South Street created to give color and life to the city block and also to be used as an educational tool for the kids.

I was entranced by this place. There was an authenticity about the people that I wanted to know more about. They radiated love through action, and I found myself desperate to love the way they loved. What drove them? How could they be so countercultural? Although they didn’t need any more volunteers for the summer, I found out that they could use a marketing video. With that, I was in, able to get into the depths of the non-profit (as it was needed for filming purposes).

They loved Jesus Christ. It was clear that they authentically believed that Jesus is the Ultimate Truth, and that their compassionate love stemmed from this realization. As a Christ follower myself, I was astounded to find a group of people who passionately pursued Christ and held one another accountable. The discipleship they showed me opened my eyes to an entire new way of living.

*    *    *

As the summer ended, I returned to Bowling Green and slowly school became a dominant aspect of my life. Soon I began thinking about the summer of 2013 and what my options were in that regard. That summer I had interned at Fraley Memory Productions as a wedding videographer. The summer before I had stayed at home in Akron. One thing I knew—I did NOT want to go back to Akron for the summer of 2013. Going home was the last place I wanted to be for the summer, as thought it would be time for me to stretch myself and live and work independently.

I found this wonderful non-profit in Toledo called Cherry Street Mission Ministries and I all at once knew that’s where I would be for the summer. I went to a Service Fair on BGSU’s campus and met a woman who worked there and we cried together as we talked of compassion in action. She gave me her business card and I gave her my tears. In her I found a like-minded individual who inspired me to continue chasing Jesus, the ultimate example of compassion in action. It was at Cherry Street that I would spend my summer months.

*    *    *

I remember the day clearly that those summer plans changed. It was the middle of October; Fall Break on BGSU’s campus had just started. I was driving home back to Akron, talking to God about the summer and my concerns and worries. I didn’t know how Cherry Street was going to work out, and if I was going to get a place in Toledo or commute from Bowling Green, and I just wasn’t sure. The last week I had gotten a bad feeling in my stomach about Cherry Street for the summer, and so I finally was bringing my concerns to the transcendent God of the universe. My ultimate goal for the summer of 2013 was to serve Him and learn more about His character. I remember blubbering about my worries and concerns about the summer and Cherry Street and Toledo and interning and and and when out of nowhere, I clearly felt this resonate through my being—

“South Street.”

All at once, so many pieces clicked for me and I burst into tears (which I wouldn’t recommend when driving down the highway). I didn’t want to go to South Street. It would mean living at home (which I was so clearly trying to avoid). It would mean being a part of a place I had already explored (which would mean less adventure). It would mean that Cherry Street was a no-go (which would mean a surrendering of my summer plans). This plan made no logical sense. I would have to not apply to the internship of Cherry Street and trust that South Street would NOT ONLY have an internship, but the staff would also want to have ME as an intern. They knew my weaknesses. They knew my naitivity about city life. It didn’t make any sense for me to be at South Street Ministries for the summer. There was no security that the internship would actually happen.

Yet as I was driving down the highway at 70mph, tears running down my cheeks, I knew that this is what the Lord was asking of me. Asking me to have faith and to TRUST. Asking that I would trust Him to work things out, that His plan is bigger and way better than my plans of Cherry Street. Asking that I would risk living at home and surrender my plans for Him. As a person who loves control, this was a lot to ask, and yet I knew deep down that this is the way it was to be.

“Okay,” I whispered, surrendering my plans and control and sitting raw before Him.

Peace enveloped me, yet tears still fell. The path chosen made no logical sense, yet the bad feeling in my stomach was gone, and on I drove.

·      *    *    *

It was December when I finally inquired about a possible internship. I sat across from the Executive Director with my letters and resumes and everything in hand. Upon asking about a possible internship, the quick reply was, “Sure! We’d love to have you! I think you’d make a great addition this summer. I’ll have to check with everyone else, but it seems good to me!” Stunned, I could only stare. We talked for a few more minutes about the internship, but I still couldn’t believe that it was that easy. By the end of the meeting, I left half-convinced at the good news, being sure to give him my resume and letter of intent in case he changed his mind and wanted to interview me.

Lesson: God had this plan in the palm of His hand. Although I had given my summer plans to him that afternoon in October, I clearly wasn’t prepared for the clarity and cleanliness of the follow through. God writes good stories, friends.

*    *    *

There have been many adventures and lessons since that day I was confirmed as an intern for South Street Ministries this summer. One lesson that I have learned is the difference between approaching this summer as a way to “help” the people who live around South Street Ministries, and approaching this summer as a way to “grow” alongside the people living around South Street Ministries. The “helping complex” has manifested itself in subtle and not so subtle ways—from writing a paper on inner city summer camps to becoming prideful about the opportunity I have through this internship to learn about many different people groups. I am not proud of this “helping complex,” yet to dismiss it wouldn’t be honest. When pride runs rampant, I am reminded that I am nothing but dust, that we are all dust, and to dust I will return.

As I begin this internship tomorrow, I can't help but think of the journey up to this point. The way the pieces so beautifully fit together, the seemingly constant change in plans (up until recently), the shifts in global and local perspective and the realization of the great privilege it will be to work at South Street. I'm so excited to help with the summer camp for the kids on South Street and the surrounding streets. I'm excited to get to know the kids in the area. I'm excited to be enthusiastic and joyful daily. But most of all, I'm excited to learn other people's stories, and to tell my own. 

What a blessing this summer will be; what an adventure!

Grateful. So grateful.

Journey with me this summer?

South Street Ministries' Bike Shop

And so we go,

Amber

The fence Kaiser Permanente helped build for Urban Gardens.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q03OY_VNMTA

A Multitude of Moments

Grounds for Thought.

The name churns through my mind.

Because as I was sitting, drinking my latte I found that there was no grounds on which these thoughts were standing.

It is a time of transition, of change.

Here are my Thoughts in exchange for Grounds that I may stand firmly on--processed soil.

*  *  *

I like Spring because everyone comes out of their winter shells and risks vulnerability through “hellos” to strangers and smiles at passerbys.

Refreshing.

*  *  *

I have witnessed moments of enough.

Moments of “not too much” and “not too little.”

Moments of “we’ll make do” and “here’s all I have.”

Ice cream at Dairy Queen paid for by a leftover gift card.

Dumped into plastic bowls and stirred with the flimsy spoons.

Enough.

Enough is a new concept--

Adapting the old into new.

Glass jars into vases and spaghetti four nights in a row.

Clothes reduced and reused and traded.

Moments of want replaced by moments of wonder.

Dinner of baked beans and orange slices cooked by a friend.

Plentiful.

*  *  *

She opens the door as the clock strikes late.

A haven of hospitality.

“Oh, I thought you meant spend the night tomorrow,” she whispers.

I shake my head, saying that I can leave.

“No; come in,” she invites.

I put my suitcase next to the couch as she tiptoes through the quiet apartment.

“Here are blankets!” she exclaims.

She doesn’t know the reason that I came, yet she knew I needed a place to go.

I awake in the morn fully rested, cared for by comradery.

*  *  *

There is power in presence,

Of just being together with another human.

Eating chocolate ice cream out of mugs,

Sitting on the balcony watching the wilderness,

The rabbits jumping over one another as if in a circus.

There is a townie couple walking.

“Johnny, hurry up! The trains comin!’

The train travels by at a snail’s pace, holding up the cars for blocks.

We find beauty in the moments of perceived annoyance.

Simplistic.

I see the power of presence

In walking alongside a woman of wisdom

Not a word said from either one

As we both were content with the silence.

We were walking through a nature trail,

A snake slithering to my left, trees collapsing on my right,

Meandering through the wood mulch as a last adventure.

There was a rectangle rainbow in the sky

Directly above the Border Meadow.

On our way back, we encountered three deer

Eating the brush alongside the trail.

We tiptoed along, astounded at our proximity.

As we said our good-byes, I was reminded that

Every moment with another is a gift to be treasured and held dear

Prescence.

*  *  *

The stars and stripes blanket was sprawled on the lawn

As was I, with two dear friends eager for change.

We swapped ideas and hopes and dreams,

Thirsting for action, and raw community,

Speaking of ways to implement and initiate these desires in the coming year.

We listened to one another intently and intentionally.

Before long the sky was dark,

Yet we were still on fire.

*  *  *

Sitting at Grounds for Thought, I ruminate about these events.

How all of these moments added together compile a week,

And weeks compiled are years, and years compiled together are a lifetime.

It is the moments in the present that truly matter.

Intrigued, I sip my latte.

*  *  *