Homelessness


 I had been sick for about a week with some evil bug that really had me down. It was the middle of July and I was trying to hydrate and get better. I had plans to travel 8-10 hours from home to be homeless with a group of people I really did not know. 
 The one person I knew was Elia.  We became college friends about 25 years ago and sporadically saw one another in the following years.  I had not seen her in about 6 years but had reconnected through social media.  (All of that is a story in itself.) 

 With some reservation, I packed for a weekend of homelessness.  Participating in a poverty simulation. It was so weird to pack for.  I mean, what do you pack to be homeless?
 I rolled a blanket and towel together with a pillow and a small travel bag with a change of clothes, toothpaste and toothbrush.  I threw in a bar of soap and travel size shampoo, tied them together with a prayer and my cell phone cord and headed to meet the other 5 "Team Waco" members. 
 While I was glad to be getting reacquainted with an old college friend, I was  apprehensive about the weekend. There was a lot of unknowns about how this weekend would roll.  I tried to think of it as summer camp. But my heart already knew it would not be comparable.
 We made our introductions with one another in the Walmart parking lot and loaded up in a van to make the journey to Waco TX.  After a somewhat quiet drive we anxiously arrived at Mission Waco to participate in a poverty simulation, whatever that is, an hour early.  Great!  Now we get to stand around and assess the situation.  Growing increasingly anxious, I scan my surroundings and reassure myself that this will be like summer camp, it's Friday evening and I get to go home on Sunday.  Whatever comes my way will be totally fine.  No worries.
We are the only adult team to experience this lovely weekend, the other groups are children from large cities.  They were teenagers from church youth groups.  We stay as a team and are told to draw from a hat. Every member of the team will receive a small amount of "money" and can keep 4 items you packed.  It's the amount of money a mom with three children receiving assistance in the state of Texas would receive.  Cool!  We will have money to survive on and keep 4 items, no worries! Immediately I start to do an inventory in my head about what items I will keep.  What will help me and what will help the group? Then the instructor went on.
 Well, almost everyone would be allowed these "luxuries".  Everyone, EXCEPT the certain members holding the magic number from the hat.  That one person from each group is HOMELESS.  No money for you and you cannot keep a single thing you packed for the weekend. To no surprise to me, the homeless person in our group was me. 
I already felt somewhat like an outcast because I really did not know many from our group.  They all worked together as professionals in the same city and I was Elia's friend from small town Dalhart.  I was the one who got car sick and had to stop to puke on the side of the road.  I was the one who changed the seating arrangement in the van because riding shot gun may help my motion sickness.  Alright, why not be THAT person now.  Now, I'm homeless.  I'm totally dependent on my group for things that I might need.  I have nothing.  
I stand in my nothingness and wonder what it is I'm supposed to get from all this.
The other members of the group are given their money and there are instructions about what will cost what.  Immediately, without question the two females, Elia and Melanie hand me $10 off the top.  It was so automatic that they help.  They did not question anything.  The males were a bit more conservative.  It was implied that they would control their money and if I really needed it later or if they could later, they would.  Everyone in the group started to talk about what items they would keep from what they packed.  Everyone was very considerate about items we could all share or something I might need that they already had. I was so humbled and appreciative of the kindness my new found friends.  
At this point, it began to rain.  We were further stripped down by being told we were taking a trip to the thrift store for "new" duds.  It was gifted for me since I had nothing, the others had to pay for their new clothes.  Did I mention that your own shoes were considered an item?  I could not keep my own shoes. I laughed since before I left home, my shoes were mentioned as something I ought to lose in Waco.  People who know me know I'm anything but a fashion plate.  I don't get real excited about shopping for clothes, trying on clothes or cleaning out my closets to make room for new clothes.  I work hard in a kitchen everyday and I haven't really cared what that looks like. So, I'm not real high maintenance and this is no big deal.
After standing in the rain in this city unknown to me waiting our turn, we entered the warehouse looking thrift store and started to peruse the racks of clothing.  It was obvious this was going to be quite a task to find something that will fit and be appropriate for 102 degree temperatures, a rainy night or whatever would come our way. I had scored a pair of mens docker shorts and a big hockey t-shirt and a pair of shoes that even I had to admit, looked better that the ones I arrived in. Truth is, I didn't look a whole lot different when I came out than when I went in.  This transition was much different for others in my group. Dell even invented a new style, the Manpries!   When I saw the men return in their new duds I erupted with laughter and knew this was going to be quite a weekend.  On the inside, I was apprehensive about sleeping out in the elements, getting food and trying not to be a burden to my group.  I prayed that the rain wash away my insecurities and that I feel as brave as I was trying to portray. 
We returned to Mission Waco and scoped out a place to spend the night.  The group spread out sleeping bags on the sidewalk for us to sleep on and opened sleeping bags for covers.  I was soggy and my heart heavy.  That night under the bright open stars, street lights and trees I prayed that God give me strength to do this with a happy heart and gave thanks for my "new found" friends. After a somewhat restless night, I awoke on the sidewalk feeling that it would be a good day!  My friends were gathered at a picnic table close by and I slowly joined them.  We visited about our worries, apprehensions about what may follow the rest of the weekend.  We also read the Word of God and prayed together.  We talked about things we hoped we would learn.  And again I secretly prayed that God allow me to continue my sense of humor throughout whatever came my way. 
We could smell breakfast cooking but knew it was not for us.  We would hold onto our small resources and see what came later.
  As the day continued on, it became very hot.  Summertime in south Texas can be a scorcher!  We walked a lot.  We were on a "hunt" for services, resources, food and water.  The more we wandered, the more I yearned for MY shoes.  These nicer looking shoes were not quite the right size for all this walking.  My feet were very hot, tired and swollen. 
 We made attempts to talk to people who might could help us but were not very fortunate to receive help.  We decided to sit on the steps of a church.  Elia had said that surely our own people, Christians - Church goers, would help us.  Traffic buzzed around that church but it appeared our group was invisible.  No one offered a hand. 
 Two of the group went to a local business to ask for assistance.  They returned with some cups of water to share with us. I have to say. At this point, I could feel my brain sizzling from the heat and lack of water.  I had debated earlier in the morning whether or not to take my meds.  But, thought what a luxury I had that real homeless persons may not have advantage of.  Medications that I require on a daily basis.  I went ahead and took them.  Now, as I bake in the sun, I question if that was so wise on an empty stomach.  Not to mention the fact that I felt parched and dehydrated.   Needless to say, the cold water offered to me by my friends sounded heavenly!  I put the water to my lips and oh my gosh!  How refreshing!  However, the minute that wave of water hit the pit of my stomach....I knew it was going to try to come right back up.
  Did I mention, I had made my way to a row of trees on the side of this church dividing their yard and the neighboring bed and breakfast.  I just laid there, wishing that the shade felt cooler.  Inside, I was unsure that I could get up and go anywhere from here.  On the outside, I pushed myself and told the group I would be fine. 
Let's just go eat and it'll all be good.  If I stay under these trees in the still heavy hot air much longer, it's likely I'm going to need help getting up.  I sigh and say another pray under my breath.  Beginning to wonder why I agreed to this adventure.  Not to mention pissed off.  I am very strong and can take care of myself and my friends, why is this happening?  Why do I feel so bad?
Feeling rotten is not really foreign to me.  I don't have a physical illness, but I do have a tendency to be a puker.  I think it is an anxiety thing.  IDK, but familiar to me nonetheless.  However, that typically happens in the privacy of my own company, not shared openly.
ANYWAY...we decided to try a Mexican Food Restaurant across the road.  We were becoming desperate.  A guy from the group went in and when he returned he smiled and said come on in.  Woo hoo! 
  Air!  I could start to feel air circulating around and knew that everything was going to be alright.  We sat at a table close to the facilities. 
 As I ordered a beverage I felt as if the world was closing in on me.  Everything around me started to dim and spin... I excused myself from the table.  I spent most of my time in the restroom.  OK.  Maybe it wasn't going to be alright. 
I  tried to pull it together and freshen up so I didn't appear so disheveled. I was embarrassed that I would be causing drama in this adventure.   
 When I returned to the table, my friends were discussing ways of getting me to a hospital.  As I tried to convince them that I was fine, it was evident by my color - or lack of - that I was not.  A Mexican Woman at the restaurant asked if I was ok and had a brief conversation with my Spanish speaking friends.  She returned with a sparkling mineral water in a freezing beer mug with salt around the rim.  She told me that if I could get it down, I would be much better soon.  I slowly sipped on this beverage and began to feel somewhat human again in the next 15-30 minutes.  I was so grateful for this woman and her remedy, as well as my group that was concerned for my health and very patient with me. 
As the evening went on, I continued to feel better and better.  I also was able to eat a small meal of rice and tea before night fall. 
The following day would be Sunday.  The final day of the simulation.  As a group, it was obvious that we were each having our own feelings/experience at "summer camp".  We had a brief assembly of all the participants in this simulation and were given directions to walk 20 blocks to church.  The name of the church is Church Under The Bridge.  We are given a brief description of what this may look like. 
We strike out walking.  I'm glad it's morning because the heat from yesterday will return.  I feel a curiosity about this "church".  I feel excited about the experience.  We walk through a city that is unfamiliar to me and as I admire the architecterual structures and wonder about the history of such fine buildings, I am grateful that I am not on this journey alone.  Glad to have people that are good with directions, people that pay attention to surroundings, people that make me feel safe.
The sun is starting to heat up and I can feel blisters starting to pop up on my toes and the top of my feet.  My anticipation is also rising.  Then we see the bridge.  Underneath I-35 and 4th Street, is a gathering of folks seeking to praise and worship God.  There is a lunch provided before the service.  Then, in folding chairs lined before a trailer pulled by a pickup, people assemble to sing and lift their hearts up to the Lord. 
As I stepped up on the curb my heart leapt with joy.  I was mesmerized and think I just sat back to soak it all in. I found myself unable to remain still or quiet.  With arms outstretched and love in my heart, I felt a connection to God and Him in each one of the people around me. I praised "like no one was watching".  It was absolutely beautiful to me and I felt FrEe! 
 I can only speak for myself.  But let me just say, I told Pastor Jimmy Dorrell later that I had been looking for that place all my life.  He laughed and replied, Me too. 
Church Under the Bridge is said to be an ordinary church made holy by his presence. Black, white, brown, rich and poor, educated in the streets and in the university, all worshipping the living God, who makes us one.  As tears streamed down my face and a joy in my heart, my experience there was anything but ordinary. 

I reflect now and I know that I am a much better person for having this experience.  I was reminded how important it is to value one another and treat others as you would like to be treated. I was once again reminded that my time frame is not necessarily God's timeframe.  I wanted to portray myself as healthy and tough.  The truth was, I was the weakest link in the group.  I HAD to allow my "team" to help me.  I had physical symptoms that could not be hidden or ignored.  I felt very transparent, weak and vulnerable. 
 While I knew I would not be hindered by the same level of hunger and poverty after Sunday, I also knew my heart would never be the same.  I have historically been one to give of myself to others, I learned there that I need to also open myself up to receiving good and abundance in my life.  We are ALL brothers and sisters made in the likeness of God.  We are instructed to care for one another and share His word.  I also discovered how very lonely I have been for quite a while.  To connect with other people, helped me to feel alive and reconnected to my own self again.  Oh the Goodness of the Lord! 
Thank you Lord for "Opening the eyes of my Heart".