Back in Action

It’s Saturday, 50 degrees and overcast, and I am sitting in MAC house stealing their internet to post an entry that I wrote a few days ago. It’s been a good day so far. There was a bike ride to the southeast for a pancake breakfast in support of a coffee shop that would rather not close its doors to the public so was thinking of several creative ways to make a lot of money in a short amount of time. We ordered our food and browsed the book exchange shelf, (which included “The New Book of Knowledge,” “The Sounds of the Universe,” and a 500 page hard cover novel named “All of My Sins.” I had a feeling that most of the customers, like myself, had not showered that morning, and a handful more of them had not showered the day before. So who knows if the event will save the space closing, but who knows. As the guy making the waffles said on our way out, “from one proactive community to another, thanks for coming out!”

So here is what I wrote earlier, and I will try to make more of a commitment to intentional blogging time in the new year.

(1/5/10)
I just finished drinking a cup of Sage-Blackberry-Herbal-ect-ect-ect tea. It came in a cylinder shaped tin with flowers on it. The label promised wisdom, and I’m sitting on my bed feeling no more wise.

Every time I try to write something for this blog my mind seems to freeze. I type long sentences and worry that I will come to no conclusion, and that the paragraphs will become a scattered pile of crappy and not-very-fun instances, and I will write in circles and convince myself that this year has turned into a tangled web or a rapidly growing patch of weeds. But I guess that’s what the past month and a half has been for me: dry, undesirable grass that I can’t yank out of the ground or trim evenly. The only thing I can think to do is to put away gardening tools, or run away. Neither option I’m satisfied with. So I guess for now I’m just waiting. Collecting what is growing out of this, and trying to give myself space.

I’m not sure that I’ve fully recovered from that first week in November, with the yelling lady in the small car. She was not mentally sound. She had not taken her medication. And I, along with other staff members to follow, took the repercussions of that. Although I knew it was not my fault, that I had done nothing wrong, that I was not the awful thing she told me I was, it still hurt to hear her screaming. It hurt to go home that night and feel angry. It hurt to know that she was beyond our capacity of care. It hurt to insist to my supervisor that she did not fit into the program, that she had threatened our safety we could do nothing for her. My opinion came out very easily, and I still stick to it, but that energy gets to you after a while. Sometimes, people do things that make it hard to have faith in them. So that’s what happened. I lost faith.

For now, it’s wavering. I’m sure there won’t be any happy endings to this story, or many of the stories that fall into my lap as I sit at the front desk. There are good days and there are bad days. But it’s been hard for me to stay completely grounded as the madness of granola bars, medical appointments, medication boxes, and tenants in the Henry building begging for one more butter scotch hard candy. But there are some other stories. Like the Teddy bear that saved Allen’s life, and the fact that people have the opportunity to believe in teddy bears. Or that Isabel is going back to Colorado to be with her mother, and the scabs on Richard’s nose have healed since I’ve been away on vacation. Maybe faith isn’t about finding ways to be happy or excited about life all the time, but to realize there are things worth noticing.