Points of Connection

Keep Hope Alive

2012-01-16T11:24:00.003-05:00

Every year it seems this way.....in the weeks after Christmas, the weather shifts and the bills come in. It just seems like the overall stress level in the community increases. Make it an election year, and things just seem plain noisy. Add the job losses,the extreme temperatures, snow, higher living costs....really, add just about any stress big or small and the house of cards can come tumbling down. Some become homeless. Some lose the temporary set up staying with a friend or on a family couch. Some tighten their belts, try to make ends meet, stretch what they have, try to get by. Some completely understand what has happened in life to bring these circumstances, and what is needed to change course. Others may be still wondering, " what just happened? There are many, families in particular, who have always been on the giving side of the soup line. Now, they need help as well. Offering a sense of hope and company in the face of chronic and unexpected poverty......that is what forms most of my conversations these days.That is all, though maybe paired a snack or some gloves....and a few moments of company.
Keeping hope alive. Hope has the power to keep the light shining when the day is dark. Keeping hope alive is lot like keeping warm on a cold day.....it's one foot in front of the other. The more you give it, the more you get....and a little goes a long way, like yeast in a big bowl of bread dough. As I walk along the street trying to keep myself warm, my own sense of hope has been brought to life by some new friends in unexpected places.
Charley was rummaging through a trash can along Walnut Street, discreetly reaching in just after someone passed by. I had stepped by him myself, then heard the rustling......not wanting to startle or embarrass him, I kept on my way to find a bathroom and to warm my hands. Coming out of a downtown church, I wondered if he might still be at the corner....there he was, holding two fast food bags in his hands. Both were rolled own tightly at the top. After introductions, Charley explained he wasn't homeless but lived on the other side of the river. I've been spending time on the Kentucky side of the river lately and was very glad to hear his experience of the lay of the land over there. Charley began to connect me with what it's like on the south bank of the river. As his bus pulled up, he said goodbye as he put a few peppermint candies in his pockets to go with his bags. Maybe I'll see him again, maybe not. Chance meetings, or maybe something more. Yes, something more, not all chance. Intention and grace. Hope, alive.

Super Mario

Down the street from Charley were two men flying signs. They were covering both sides of the sidewalk, almost directly across from one another. Super Mario was on the sunny side. I stopped there first.
His sign was a blessing- "God bless you, and thanks." He held it right above a large coffee can. A worn aviator jacket smudged with dirt, gloves stuffed into side pockets.....deep lines marked his weathered brown face.Super Mario was very friendly, and explained, " I'm a lucky man. That's why I have this name, it's a game." I wondered about the game....what was his game? Pointing to the sky, he found a sliver of sunlight. "That is God's smile, smiling down on me. I am blessed.....Whatever else, I am blessed."

And so, I found some hope of my own through Super Mario, who cut through my own weighty thinking about the hardships hiding in plain sight in the downtown. Then he continued......to witness about his ministry.

Super Mario says he can't do much...and he doesn't have much, but he can tell this story about God's smile coming down on him in the sunshine. He is awake. He is alive. He has another chance to keep on going. So, he does that, he does what he can do and he feels the blessing in that "kiss of sunshine."

Super Mario liked the cross I was wearing that day. It is the Ecclesia Ministries cross, given to members of the church outside the walls. Many street people and those in ministry among them wear this cross as a sign of belonging to God and to the community.

Ecclesia Cross

As so, we prayed together the Our Father and blessed each other on our way, with the cross now hanging over his heart, as a sign of his ministry blessed by God's kiss of sunshine. Hope, alive.

Across the street, John knew he wouldn't be able to spend the day outside in the cold temperatures. "What will you do?" I asked him. The library was a hike from there, but it would be open. He would go there, and hoped to get into he cold shelter later. About 40 minutes later, John raced past me on Vine Street. "I told you I couldn't stay out much longer." He kept moving.

Around the corner, a man stood in the doorway out of the wind. Michael was in his second day of homelessness. A vet, he had some medical issues and ran out of money. Late on his rent, this time, he was evicted. This would be his second night without a home, first time homeless. "Thank God for the shelter at the church up the street." He explained that he didn't have the identification papers needed to stay at the Drop Inn Center. It would take some time to get all new ID. At the cold shelter, all could come inside, but not until 9 pm. He would keep walking, too cold to ride his bicycle. It was parked inside the adjacent parking garage, with his belongings tied onto the frame, all in plastic bags. Michael seemed to have a handle on his situation, and I was able to offer him some names and places that could help him with next steps.
With a hand up, maybe he will be able to get back on track. Hope and possibility.
Soon, it will be time for dinner at the church down the street. Approaching the church doors is a mother with two young children sitting in a stroller. One of the children is fussy and the mom offers him a marshmallow until dinner. I wonder what life is like for them, hoping for more than this, especially for the children. Better they are here for food and community....better still would be the meeting of their most basic human needs for food, shelter, clothing and security. Hope flickers.....

Heading back toward the library, I cross paths with Peter. He looks so cold as he moves down the street, no hat, no gloves. He is carrying a large dufflebag that looks like it is ready to burst at the seams. Last week, Peter didn't want to talk but this week, he stops and sets his bag on the ground. He is staying warm and has a place for the night, he tells me.
No, he doesn't need gloves-just isn't wearing them right now. He pulls them out of his coat pocket to show me he is all set. "Room for some candy for later?", I ask him. He puts some peppermints in his pockets along with his gloves. "God bless you," he says to me. And you, too Peter.

And we are both on our way......a Christmas song is playing in my mind's eye as I hustle quickly back to my car before the meter runs out. I Wonder As I Wander
Yes, yes, I do.

Peace and Good in the New Year

2011-12-30T11:17:00.002-05:00

St. Jude' Children's Hospital is well known for its incredible mission of providing care for children who are seriously ill with the most challenging of cancers. Spokesperson Marlo Thomas invites, " Give thanks for the healthy children in your life, and give to those who are not." Some say that a child is God's ultimate expression of hope, for the birth of a child is the living proof that life will go on. War or peace, calm or storm, rich or poor, ready or not......life ebbs, flows, and goes on. This time of year, there in a particular poignancy in the mystery of life going on, in diverse circumstances like those that shape the faces of homeless people-men, women and children living in deep poverty surrounded by abundance. A few weeks ago, this came home to me when I took local routes to travel from Fairfield, Ohio into Downtown Cincinnati. The main thoroughfares seem like a ct scan of urban life, with streets of needs met, mansioned with esplanades so neat and clean, then transitioning at the city limits into areas of substandard housing, leading into boarded up buildings, abandoned cars, and groups of young people hanging around street corners....then into the downtown where poor and resourced people mix in between "urban lifestyle venues". Like a bee hive, everyone has a part, everyone has a story. Hardship comes in various portions but is not reserved for any one particular group of people. Sometimes, those called the least among us have a greater handle on celebration and joy in the blessings of a day. Resourced people have their own sufferings, addictions, illnesses and difficult circumstances. These are human conditions, no immunity granted. Within our life stories can be places for breaking barriers and finding common ground, where labels describe a life circumstance and human dignity models the truer landscape for community life, together.

Giving thanks for the good that lights the cracks and hard places in life; hoping for peace, light and community where it is dark. May all find a blessing in this new year.

Sisters on the Road

2011-12-15T15:26:00.001-05:00

Sister Grace Miriam

There are many stories to share from the street, a winter days descend and night comes early. Here is one, told by Sister Grace, in her own words. Tamar Place provide hospitality and support to women working in prostitution. Here is a place to clean up, eat, and rest. Help is available, if wanted. Entering Tamar Place from the alleyway, there a feeling of relief, of confident safety as the door closes....at least, that is how I feel when I come in. Welcome and safe. Women, helping women- I have no doubt that God's Holy Spirit is at work here. Faith in Action, these are some very spunky nuns, the Franciscan Sisters of the Poor. Check out this story from the local news...... Tamar Place

Flying a Sign

2011-11-13T21:10:00.000-05:00

How many times a day do we say or hear comments like....."times like these", " in these uncertain times", " times we have never seen before", " in these challenging times".....Ever feel like we are living in a Bob Dylan "Times These Are A Changin" bubble? Well, the times do seem different to me and they are a changin, particularly when it comes to hopefulness. People seem to carry more worry and anxiety, more fear and more anger. Have you noticed it in the grocery line? or the store parking lot? on the soccer field? Something happens that tips the precarious balance of coping in "these challenging times" and distress fills the space.
People are trying to get by and find a pathway through the uncertainty. It's hard. Still, an uncertain road through unsettling times offers something within the twists and turns--opportunities for witness, experience, and for offering kindness and help. Neighbors, families, and institutions are coming up with new ways to share, collaborate, extend, and involve themselves in caring for community needs outpacing available resources. As these responders live into the challenges, other responders take an approach of battening down the hatches, circling the wagons, or protecting what we have. These markers are also part of the landscape in "these times".

This was on my mind last week, when Harvey asked me this question: Do you know about flying a sign?"

Harvey has been at the same address for almost a year, following 11 years of living on the streets and in shelters in Cincinnati. It takes a lot of figuring out "how to get by" in street life, and Harvey was well acquainted with "flying a sign". When food is low, short on the rent, or some maybe just want a beer-Harvey says, you can fly a sign. And so began my education around the back story of people I pass everyday. These are the people standing at the intersections of city streets and exit ramps, in all kinds of weather as they hold a cardboard sign. Signs, signs, everywhere there's signs......
For some people, its a regular gig. Others fly a sign when they can't find work and run out of money. Some completely make up a story, others write a spin,some tell it just like it is....it is about getting quick money, he says. Usually, you get some.

I've wondered for a long time if this is something people do on their own, or it there is a meeting of some kind, a flying signs union where the messages are divied up and the locations assigned. Harvey says there is no formal organization....People write their own message, pick their spot and when the day is done, there is usually something more than was had before. Flying a sign, imagine that.
Driving home after this conversation with Harvey, I paid particular notice to the sign fliers along the way......"out of work", "I have cancer", "Need food", "Iraq vet". Almost all of the signs end with "God Bless You" or "Thanks".

Maybe you have wondered about the people behind the signs. My thoughts usually run like this: What's going on? Thank God that I am on this side of the sign. Is this a scam? Should I stop and visit? What if I went and got a sandwich? Didn't I just see this person out yesterday in a different part of town? Isn't there a better way to get what you need? Why isn't there more work available? and then comes the explanation: "These Challenging Times". Well, the story probably has more layers than that three word summary though the times must be part of the picture. These can be overwhelming, and discouraging times, times seeking a quick fix, like the one that comes in a can of coins at the end of a day of flying a sign. Experience has shown us that the quick fix is just that. Quick and without staying power. Much more is needed.

Which strategies might create the resources for a just and whole community in these times is the question, isn't it? It feels almost too large for one individual to entertain. In the day to day of my own life, I find that small things do matter and can make a difference. Small kindnesses and acts of generosity can be enough to en-courage someone who is at the end of their rope, to bring hope and laughter into burdens great and small. We all are carrying something, some more than others. We all have something to offer. Maybe we can lay down the paper and markers, and fly real signs, be real signs of help and hope to each other in these challenging times.

So many difficult circumstances are situational-yet, they somehow become expressions of the value of a human life, or rather expressions devaluing human life. Job loss or an unexpected hospitalization are just two examples which can quickly lead to fiscal vulnerability or spiraling toward a completely fresh start. How often circumstances like these lead to the mistaken perception that what we have and do is what defines our value as humans. It can feel like there is little within my scope for changing the underpinnings of "times like these". Most of us are powerless to affect the larger things in life, but each of us is equipped to speak from our own experience and giftedness. Instead of standing on a corner asking for help, what if we wade deeply into the crowd and fly a new kind of sign, a sign offering hope and kindness, patience and care? Flying signs. Living signs. Sharing signs. Being signs of hope and company to one another, in these challenging times.

In the Rhythm of Life

2011-10-18T00:31:00.003-04:00

Nature provides many kinds of rhythms that give shape to our days and seasons. Light and shadow change throughout the day with the rising and setting of the sun. The sea washes in and washes out, taking and leaving behind as the tides rise and fall in a rhythm both predictable and surprising. Here in Cincinnati, there is no sea to keep rhythm. Still, spring brings a rising river born of the winter ice, and summer nights have their own sailor's delight in contrast to the blinding light of the early morning sun. Last week, rhythms of life transitions pulsed and surprised, saddened and delighted in the ebb and flow of community life.
Central Parkway divides the Downtown from Over the Rhine. These days, this boulevard seems must busier. Throughout the day, pedestrians cross between the neighborhoods, many now residing and working inside the city core. In between are others carrying multiple plastic bags, or wheeling a suitcase, or carrying duffles-but this is no vacation. These are the homeless, walking in between these urban pioneers. These pedestrians sometimes seem in a bubble all their own, as some tune into IPods, while others might be in a mental conversation with voices only they can hear. Sometimes, I'll notice a conversation between someone housed and someone unhoused. When this appears to be a tender and interested conversation, I feel hopeful that the community can be woven together through the willingness of individuals to reach out to each other. Hope is a good thing, a sustenance needed for the journey through challenges of all kinds shaping our days.

Back in the neighborhood, renovation and renewal is building by building now.
Traveling the streets can feel like flipping the pages of an old photo album, as snapshot after snapshot reveals something of life in that moment. Among the boarded up buildings sits a man intently watching a chime of wrens feeding themselves silly on a mound of pavement Burger King. The grass is overgrown. The weather is raw and this is not a place of particular beauty. Yet, this is a place of wonder, God's wonder, wonder that transcends the darkness that is also part of these same streets. A few blocks away, people are talking about Joe, who passed away in his apartment unexpectedly, too soon. Homeless people sometimes die as they live, outside and unknown. Joe had lived the ruggedness of this life, but recently had changed it up a bit and moved into a community residence. There is some comfort in knowing he died housed, with loyal friends who cared for him through it all. In another part of the city, a young man is on the move to his first apartment. This may seem like a typical rite of passage for a 22 year old, but there is nothing typical about this young man. He is reclaiming his life,after four years of recovery following a drug related shooting. It's been a hard, hard road back, his day to day often confined to his four walls in a nursing home. This day, it's a different story inside these four walls. The bedsheets are rumpled, the bed is empty and Michael has left the building. He hopes to help other youth avoid the school of hard knocks he has attended. On this day, he leaves a man claiming the gift of second chances, steering himself into his new future. Rhythms of life. Rhythms of hope.

Cincinnati Bucket Boyz

May God bless these rhythms, and give us new ways of coming together as community.

Grace,Peace and Blessing

2011-09-25T23:26:00.003-04:00

Butterflies on Vine Street

As the weather cools off and autumn takes hold, there is a shifting in life on the street as well. The cooler temperatures are so welcome after the blistering heat of this past summer. So many of the brick townhouses in Over the Rhine are not air conditioned, acting like brick ovens without much air circulation. People with respiratory issues find the lower humidity makes for easier breathing, and people like me, who walk with arthritis, appreciate the increased comfort in our joints as the fall weather comes along. Except for the pollen, it's a pretty nice time of the year in Cincinnati.
The rhythm of the day along the streets of Over the Rhine has its own set of changes. Back to school walkers, and construction trucks set the pace each morning. The doorways of churches and vacant buildings seem to have a higher occupancy, as bags, tarps and even foam pads furnish small spaces for sleeping during the day and overnight. There is a bit more protection sleeping in a doorway, where trouble can't sneak in from behind and the wind can't get at your back. Down by the stadiums, park benches become daytime cots on the warmer days. Cross the bridge into Kentucky, and you see the same scenes-grocery carts filled with bags, people walking with backpacks and plastic grocery bags filled with their belongings. Some have suitcases; some load their things onto hand trucks and carry all their things, everything, always with them, wherever they go. In between it all are new, upscale businesses and housing developments, bringing new neighbors who live alongside these other outside neighbors who are sleeping in doorways, in the bushes beneath underpasses and along the riverbanks on both sides of the Ohio River. Makeshift memorials testify to the toll of gun violence over this summer, pops of gunfire punctuating the sounds of live on the playgrounds and in the marketplaces of Over the Rhine. There have been so many losses over the summer-so many telephone poles and trees ribboned with teddy bears and duct tapes notes of love and remembrance. So much death, so much tension, so much fear. Stopping to listen to the stories, I offer sympathy, I hope for healing, I wonder if it helps or changes anything. Praying and blessing the site, there will be no forgetting. All around these memorials, life goes on in the ordinary activities of work and play. For all the trouble, there is something very hopeful in the rhythm of day to day life here, in the small things that give witness to possibility-things like the sounds of children playing outside on the sidewalks when their playgrounds are in use for drug trade--or when someone carrying belongings in a plastic bag offers to share food--or when a stranger walking by picks up the trash left behind on the sidewalk. These are ordinary and surprising sights that are grounded in The Love that makes all things new, the Love that is about second chances.

Imagination Alley-A Peace Park

So, it was an awesome surprise to find the a big bunch of monarch butterflies stopping for a drink in Imagination Alley. Imagination Alley is a wonderful park at 1300 Vine Street. I call this place Peace Park, in honor of the peace mosaics prominent along the sidewalks. It's not always peaceful here though. The large archway invites a stroll through the roses, but it also marks where a murder occurred one spring evening earlier this year. Walking through the arch one day last week, I was completely surprised to turn from this place of remembrance and find a group of monarch butterflies flitting and drinking along the bushes hugging the brick walls of a nearby brick wall. So simple, so sleek, so graceful, so gracing, so calming, so lovely and so completely unexpected in this mix of buildings, trash, scaling up and hanging on neighborhood life in Over the Rhine.

Monarchs in Peace Park

Monarch butterflies on their way to Mexico for the winter, stocking up on sweet nectar in the shade and protection of bushes and bricks....where trouble can't sneak in from behind and the wind is only a gentle breeze....Bringing surprise and delight in the midst of the messiness of life. Grace, Peace, and Blessing.

Holy Holey Wholly

2011-08-31T10:32:00.001-04:00

Dawn's Early Light

And so,the third year begins......Points of Connection is two years along on a journey that is marked in hours and days much more than seasons and years. New friends from the street know the greater truth, that life is not given up front in years, but comes one day at a time. That is what we have. Give us this day, our daily bread.

As I meet people through the day, I might ask, "How are you today?"

Often the reply comes, "Blessed". Then an inventory of blessings may be offered, beginning with the gift of waking up in the morning. This amazes and inspires me, sometimes it humbles and puts me to shame as I listen to this simple statement, "I'm blessed" offered in the midst of deep poverty and circumstances that hardly seem blessed at all. Addiction, homelessness, illness, unemployment....where does this gratefulness come from? How is it that one person's hopelessness will reveal an other's hopefulness?

Sometimes, I will be asked...." Are you blessed?" Absolutely Yes, though sometimes you would not know that from the attitude I express.

My own first thought of the day is frequently about getting a cup of coffee, not about gratitude for waking up in a safe place or about waking up alive. My privilege comes with blinders at times. Thankfully, neighbors remind me of more important blessings, blessings that frame what gives life meaning and purpose, blessings that carry us in the troubling and weary parts of life, blessings that bring hope and help us to turn to our faith. We all need that, don't we? In this life, I am still learning, and feeling blessed for the gift of walking with the holy, the holey, and the wholly.Tomorrow is a new day for stepping off the curb and wading into the world.

Thank you for all that has been and for all that will be. Amen.

Ten Years Later, It's All About Relationship

2011-03-15T00:19:00.002-04:00

The year 2001 is tattooed on all of our hearts as the year of the 9/11 attacks. Whatever we thought about life changed between 9 and 10 am est that beautiful fall morning. Rolling up to that September,well, it had been a life changing year all on its own-a year that altered my path in ways still unfolding today...a milestone. My youngest started high school that year, and on the very first day, we lost the patriarch of the family-my father.in.love,Wally. A few weeks later, came the attacks, terrorism changing life as we knew and thought we understood it. Two more weeks passed, and a family fleeing the Sudan arrived in Cincinnati, inviting a small group of suburbanites into the experience of refugee resettlement and life in the Winton Terrace neighborhood of Cincinnati. But, it was the spring of 2001 when a tragic event followed by a week of violence drew my attention the corner of the city bounded by Liberty Street and Washington Park.

As a newcomer to Cincinnati, I had noticed what seemed to be a particularly high level of violence involving African American men and the police. Visiting here in the winter of 1998, I can remember the loss of two police officers during a foot chase on one of the bridges over the Ohio River. Years passed, tensions grew, lives were senselessly lost to violence and drugs-while out in the suburbs, interest in urban issues seemed lost among other concerns. Then, on April 7, 2001, a young Timothy Thomas was in a foot chase with a police officer on Republic Street. Could he have been armed, as he reached into his pocket? The officer fired his weapon and Timothy became the 15th African American to die within an interaction with law enforcement in a six year period. Unknown to the police officer, Thomas had been unarmed, and was wanted, but for misdemeanors, not felonies. The last straw snapped, and tensions erupted into the streets of Over the Rhine.The rioting and violence that followed was terrifying and sorrowful....leaving little space in the community for anything less than community dialogue, engagement and action. Images of the police firing beanbags to disburse unruly crowds, Vine Street on fire, broken windows and looting all remain as memories from that week in April. Hard to believe this was Cincinnati. It looked more like Beirut. Looking back, there was one particular story from Liberty and Vine that moved me into a place of hope and engagement. Then as now, a community of Franciscan friars live and serve among the poor, through ministry including a church and an elementary school. Those days in April revealed a story of children hunkered down in their school, with trouble closing in from Vine Street......bused home, school closed, a small haven for childhood, gone. As night came, streets were lit with fire in dumpsters, clusters of angry people racing through the streets, shattering plate glass opening the way for looting and mayhem. There was another story being lived out simultaneously along Vine Street. This was a story of the Franciscans, outside the walls of their peace garden, simply present to the situation unfolding. While I have no knowledge of what might have been said or how long they were there, I was told that all the properties on the campus were untouched, and no one was injured. These were not the only nights Franciscans took to Vine Street. There are stories of other nights when they extended care to the homeless and to prostitutes seeking a place to be on the plaza outside the church. This community became a place I wanted to know more about. Having no idea what I could contribute or what I could learn, I drove into the city to the Franciscan church on the corner of Liberty and Vine. I have been part of the neighborhood community ever since.

Always, there is more than enough work to do in this world, but rarely enough employment in the neediest places. My first foray into Over the Rhine would be one day a week at the Sarah Center,where neighborhood women could learn to design and produce jewelry, quilt, and run their own micro business. There I met Sister Jeanette Buehler and Arlene Turner, who worked with an ever growing number of women and clients. Attention was paid to spirituality and community here, and it showed in the collaboration and cooperation among the women. From there, I moved next door into tutoring math and reading in a fifth grade classroom. There I learned that children can still be sponges for learning, even when they do not have the nutrition or family support for their learning. My best moment was leading a lesson about Kwanzaa in a tween group of African American and Appalachian students.
These connections led to the Peace and Justice Commission, which led to working on the Community Policing Initiatives coming our of the riots of 2001. Community engagement took whatever forms were needed to engage....there was a car wash initiative that occupied teenagers with a needed service and provided income at the very same gas station where trouble had occurred between neighborhood teens and customers at the pump. During periods of violence, small groups would gather and pray and remember the people lost to violence through death and in lives lost to the community through imprisonment. Blessing these spaces has been a best experience in the midst of terrible tragedy and loss.
Movie nights themed around reconciliation and hope helped the community get to know each other better and to share our feelings and our ideas around the experience of violence and its cost. The film "Love and Forgiveness" shared three stories of impossible reconciliations made possible through compassion and forgiveness. How could compassion and forgiveness affect lives in Over the Rhine? This became an initial question within every aspect of community engagement going forward. Conversations around forgiveness and compassion led to wonderings about (lack of ) experience, aspirations and opportunities. Then one evening, randomly, a big dream surfaced within a small group of faithful people, having compassionate hearts and a commitment to be in relationship with neighbors in Over the Rhine
Have you ever heard of Appreciative Inquiry? It's a change creating process I learned several years ago through my friends Michael and Joan Hoxsey. So often the process of organizational and community change involves an examination of problems, taking a look at what is wrong and then coming up with strategies to fix those problems. While naming problems is important, it can also result in depletion of energy, creating non productive cycles around the most entrenched problems, and negative consequences like personal rifts and blame. With Appreciative Inquiry, we ask ourselves to consider just what we love and value about our community, and to wonder together, what would help us to get more of what is working, what is good, what makes us community? This can lead to imagining our shared future and to amazing conversations that draw us together. This is the knitting of community, the knitting of memory and history with our shared visions for the future. It's not all chit chat...there is an action phase that calls us to commitment and construction of what we value and hope for, together.
Back to the big dream.....this small group of faithful people came together one evening after a summer hiatus. Everyone did their catch up, sharing what their summer was like when Sharon told us about her amazing Fourth of July trip to Washington. The bus was filled with strangers, who became good friends after a four day bus tour of the nation's capital. Fascinating to me was the new perspective I gained in hearing her describe her experiences from her life experiences as an African American woman. So exciting.....and then came a question spoken softly....."Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could offer a community trip outside of the neighborhood and welcome anyone interested without regard to ability to pay?" Wouldn't it be wonderful........and 1 year later 60 people say, "It was amazing."

Constructing a bus trip to Chicago on a shoe string.....it took a fair amount of miracle to pull this off and a fair amount of faith, too. You see, we committed from the onset that no one would be left behind for financial reasons. People who could pay were asked to pay.People who could pay more were asked to pay more. People who could pay some were asked to pay some. People who could pay little or only provide their spending money were asked to sign up with everyone else. When the bus pulled away from Cincinnati, it was filled with people from all walks of life. The sounds of their stories were breathtaking as we approached the Chicago skyline and dove into the Windy City. "Dad, we're here....the buildings are so tall." "This is my first time leaving the neighborhood." "I never knew that before." This has been a best experience of community for me, a best practice in a ministry among equals caring for each other. Like any travel, there were testy moments and holy moments in the witnessing adults wanting to learn and discover with others. So much kindness, so much generosity, so much excitement and so much unmasking of what separates us. I will always remember being in the Cadillac Theater at the "Color Purple" and hearing voices from our audience interacting with the dialogue. "You tell him, girl...that's right".....because this story was their story, and there was their story being told as a Broadway musical. Connections.....community...simply beautiful.

Looking back on these 10 years are these amazing memories, mixed in with deep sadness, particularly around the deep poverty that creates such a fertile ground for trouble. Past fears have been modulated through relationships, experience and a changing law enforcement strategy which has reduced crime. I still drive with my car doors locked. Much has changed, but so much remains the same. The poverty is still brutal; violence and drugs remain stalwart thieves of the present day and the potential of our future together. So much loss....people lost to violence and addictions, buildings lost, green space and trees lost, neighbors relocated. Yet, in between all these are wonderful stories of faith and resilience, or neighbors and friendships, or generations all tied together in this place Over the Rhine.

April came in 2001, and something had to give, and be given. Thankfully, things have been changing, over time. Those days of chaos brought about often heated and needed constructive dialogue and action. The work of community engagement has been significant and fruitful, difficult to hold patiently, requiring the diligence and faithful care of saints and soldiers.
Over the Rhine is a wonderful community, a place where my best times are around a chit chat with people who have been there for years. Changes then were more about process,particularly in the area of community relations and law enforcement policy. Today, changes are more concrete and visible; perhaps much like the changing tides that came during the immigration wave in the 1800's. New people are moving into renovated buildings which may have provided affordable housing for the working poor or perhaps had been abandoned property. They bring their culture, new energy and talent, but their new housing is double edged in the disruption and displacement of those who have limited income in this life....and in the integration of financial and artistic resources within a malnourished urban core. So we gain new friends and eateries and investment while we lose familiar faces and their neighborhood memories which we also need if we are to know the story of who we have been together in this place. Day by day, there are new engagements and new challenges all in need of our collaborative energies with a willingness to work together to live an inclusive future. Just as in childbirth, there is pain and tension that brings new life and calls us to leave old ways behind. These invite us to recall, reflect and to turn in a new direction...and so it is now in Over the Rhine.

As the second winter of this ministry ends, it brings the opportunity to share my gratitude with the wonderful people and places connecting with Points of Connection. Thank you to our friends who welcome us home in the outdoors, those we meet on the street, and those who are home bound or living in institutional settings. Thank you to all our friends and supporters on the inside of churches, of places of hospitality, of health care and care giving. Thank you for your care, your welcome,the wisdom of your experience, your guidance and support. Thank you to our customers and business partners who have helped to share the story and fund the service.

Thank you to our followers online, and to all who walk together in this ministry of care. To Brother Tim Sucher OFM and Father Greg Friedman OFM of St. Francis Seraph Ministries, who helped me find the first walking routes for this ministry and have shared so generously in service over the years, thank you. To Pastor Fred Cook, Les Cook and the community at First Lutheran Church, who welcomed me inside during the first winter, the second and in between, sharing generous hospitality and collegial support ...Thank you.Thank you to my colleagues in chaplaincy. To my family, you are my champions. Thank you.

As this winter ends, the work continues, but the blog goes on hiatus in hopes of launching a new enhanced webpresence. Stay tuned.

Peace to you.

"What I do you cannot do, but what you do, I cannot do. The needs are great, and none of us, including me, ever do great things. But we can all do small things, with great love, and together we can do something wonderful. " Mother Teresa of Kolkata

Ten Years Later: A look at 30 stories in 30 days

2011-03-08T19:53:00.001-05:00

"http://www.wcpo.com/dpp/news/news_archives/ten-years-later:-a-look-at-30-stories-in-30-days">Ten Years Later: A look at 30 stories in 30 days

Earth Twittering Hope

2011-02-20T21:09:00.000-05:00

Amazed! Amazed is what I am at how quickly things can change. How wonderful it is when they change for the better. The change I am experiencing isn't all that dramatic, it is in the weather...changing winds, shifting breezes, climbing temperatures, sunnier days and all the chirping, energizing, flying skipping, greening, fleeting, shifting changes that come when SPRING is in the air. So early, so welcome is this springtime following the ice that fell from the sky just a few weeks ago.....Spring, with all its reminders about hope, about change, about possibility.
It's true, I am not at all naive to think that spring is here to stay. There will be some cold snaps yet to come. I am not so unkind as to hold this early spring up in the faces of friends to the north who are still blanketed under two feet of snow, with months to go before that melting, muddy time that lasts a few weeks between their winter and summer.

dreamtime.com

Nature has her indicators of changing seasons. The geese come in waves, day by day. They are the ultimate snowbirds, ritually flying south for the winter, then back north for the summer months. Songbirds aren't quite ready for nesting, but I've seen some lady blue jays and some robin redbreasts flitting about the yard. Are they house hunting? It seems that way to me. But the biggest clue came last week as I drove south on the 71 corridor between Cincinnati and Columbus. The middle stretch of this run expands across massive open spaces where corn will soon be planted. Tuesday, farmers were laying irrigation. By Thursday, there were signs of green grass, that green that runs so close to the soil you wonder if it is moss, or perhaps a kind of velvet. This green is Spring, a sign of the earth growing and changing, renewing, right before our very eyes....and the eyes of a pair of hawks, hovering in mid air, spying who knows what in the reeds of dead grass from the year before.
In the city, there are signs of newness springing all around. It is a tender mercy coming to us after a difficult winter, body and soul.
Thinking back on the winter, unforgiving temperatures and conditions come to mind right away. More snow, sticking longer, coming more frequently than I can remember in the 12 years I have been here. Fewer resources, fewer shelter beds, increasing numbers of homeless families, violence invading peaceful places, a declining inventory of affordable housing coupled with an urban renewal inviting new people with upscale housing and business.....there are many new faces here, and familiar faces moving along, some displaced as a consequence of change, a few lost to the harshness of the overnight weather.
Many of these realities do not change with the seasons, but the change of season does ease some of the tensions winter brings....tensions like coping with the daily question of night time shelter. There is one shelter with no criteria for admission except the need for a warm place, but that shelter is only open when the temperatures dip below 10 degrees. For those lucky enough to have heated housing, there is a cabin fever that sits in after days inside. The largest park in the area has been closed for months, as renewal comes intensively to the streets around Washington Park. People using the park for recreation, space, and even for illegal activity have had to find new places for themselves, sometimes bringing conflict in the tension of sorting out who belongs on a particular corner or street. Tensions eventually erupt, and street cred goes to the wind. Solutions are not as simple as the shifting of the wonds on an early spring day. Still, this warm, sunny, blustery Monday morning does wonders to chase away that closed in feeling and open the portals of your spirit. It helps you to let go of the stresses that come with poverty and violence. It helps. So it seemed on this Monday morning, in the six square miles of Over the Rhine.

citykin.com

I knew something was different the minute I got out of my car. There was a friendliness, with people greeting each other, and looking at each other while walking by. First, I met Joe. He was walking around the car, curbside, in front of mine. A big sedan, 80's style, sporting not much more than primer. "I just bought it," he beamed."My first car." Along came Daniel. "Bea, can I help you carry anything?" he asked me...." You work over there, right?" It felt good to be called by my name. Friendly.
The sky was clouding up a bit, as Daniel told me about the high winds ripping shingles off a building in the alley along Race. Powerful winds. Well, I was eager to get walking; winter left me feeling cooped up and the recent troubles over turf brought a cautiousness and a sadness I did not want to carry. Walking hadn't felt all that freeing of late.
Rounding the corner at 12th, I turned up Vine. A storefront labeled " Interfaith Workers"....I walked past, then went back twice before finally knocking to invite myself in to help us welcome each other as neighbors. All along Vine, new storefronts drew my attention and wondering about all this change. Would these businesses be successful? Who would be coming? Would any of the neighbors find work here? I liked the vintage clothing......I was getting distracted, and also interested. Spring.
The big intersection at Liberty and Vine loomed ahead, with vacant storefronts alongside relocating business. A familiar face, Dom, crossed the street. "Hey Dom.....long time..."we knew each other from the Overflow Shelter last winter. "Where are you now?" He pointed to his apartment, right above us. I get the short version of what's been going on with Dom. I am so happy to see his familiar face again. ...."and you?" he asked. "I'm out and about now, no shelter this year but I see a lot of the guys out on the street". "We've got to find a place for you", Dom tells me. "Maybe you are right, Dom....great to see you. Be careful out there."

The sights and sounds at this intersection electrify, intensify, then ebb on this morning. The children are younger than school age, holding hands with parents or riding in carriages at each light change. Big delivery trucks from Coke and Budweiser slide through the intersection, vibrating and kicking up dust as they plough along. All the while, the chirping of birds overhead, behind, next to, in the air, everywhere.....everywhere is this chirping sound. Where are those birds? Ah, all lined up in a hidden choir within a strait away of hedge branches along the south corner of Liberty and Vine. Kitty corner, or Catty corner across the intersection, there is something going on at the Canticle Cafe. People are hustling inside from the curb with big coolers. Inside, an efficient assembly line of three fills brown bags with sandwiches and sustenance for men and women doing day labor in the city. After stopping in for a quick hello, I move across the street where a scene from Mary Poppins is unfolding in real time.
On the plaza in front of St. Francis Seraph church is Ted. He reminds me of my dad, as he reaches into a plastic bread bag for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Breaking them apart into smaller pieces, Ted scatters food for the birds.....and quickly they fly down from the trees, from the rooftops, from the hedges across the street. Ted is so generous, there is none of the usual competition for food. There is more than enough to go around. With each rumbling truck, the birds startle and scatter only to return to feast when the dust settles. Ted has many concerns about the world, the current state of American politics, about people who take advantage of others. He doesn't seem worried about his own survival; somehow, he seems content with what he has, all tucked in a basket and bag strapped to his red bicycle. Ted loves animals, as he finds a way to hang onto these sandwiches instead of eating them all himself....and then feeds the birds. He loves to watch them and I do, too. He watches out for 6 homeless cats that stray near his home base. " Someone gives me this milk, but you're supposed to drink it there", he says....."but I save it for the cats. It don't hurt anyone." There are stories about his parents, about the family homeland in Germany, about their emigration and the separation so common in the experience of immigrants in the early 1900's. I hear a story much like my family story....and I hear the pride he feels about the accomplishments of his parents who sacrificed so much for a new beginning in a new country....for their own Springtime.
As Ted and I are chatting, the birds are feasting, and Mike is moving about the northwest corner of Liberty and Vine with a cardboard box. Mike is doing the spring cleaning and everyone will appreciate what comes of his efforts. The wind has relocated lots of papers, leaves, stray straws and paper cups along with cigarette butts and who knows what. All of these line up along the garden wall of St. Francis Friary, swirling up with wisps of sand and dust in sync with this Springtime breeze. It is a mess. Mike takes care of it, bending down over and over to secure each scrap and clear the sidewalk.
The tower clock bell chimes, and it's time for me to move on for Monday services down the street. Ted takes a few lollipops and I wish him a Happy Valentine's Day. Mike keeps on with his work and I step along a couple of blocks marveling at how alive things seem this morning, how wonderful to see people out and about engaging with each other in our neighborhood, in the best of ways.

Blocks away at the Lutheran church, a small group of four gathers for liturgy. Within this gathering, there is a sense of the spiritual, of something greater than us all, which is also part of us all. In this place, as it was at the curbside, on Vine Street, in a new storefront, along a busy intersection, and within a hedge of branches secreting chirping birds...yes, in all these places are signs of new life, signs of community, signs of engagement and involvement of the simplest and most heartfelt kind. Call it Spring, Renewal,or Resurrection, it is new life. Don't we need it after this long winter? Don't we need it now?

Inside Looking Out

2011-02-06T22:58:00.000-05:00

The food was delicious and the company sweet as I got together with friends for a bite to eat on Friday. I paused a minute at the suggestion of a new eatery on Vine Street. It made sense to meet in Over the Rhine-it is convenient for everyone, and this would be a chance to support a new business. Still, my feelings were mixed about eating in a restaurant that so many in the neighborhood would never be able to afford. This is a gentrifying neighborhood in major transition. New businesses are beginning to fill vacant storefronts. Residential buildings are being renovated and daily it seems there are new faces in the neighborhood.....and old ones missing. There is a displacement, a replacement going on in this neighborhood. How this all impacts those having little in this world is a matter of social justice.
In the Gateway quarter, an arts district is emerging, bringing wonderful new energies and people. It all comes at a high cost as those who are of limited means and those who are homeless seem to be out in the cold. Buildings formerly offering affordable housing are being transformed into expensive loft housing, proximent to the amazing arts venues generously sprinkled throughout the city core. How will the current neighbors integrate with the redevelopment, the trendy shopping, and upscale eateries? Day by Day, we see changes emerging,affordable housing and shopping disappearing, all without knowing what life will be like when the last nail is driven into this urban renewal.

Cincy Images

Sitting at a table facing the street, I was on the inside looking out as Friday evening became Friday night. Hot tea refills, led to appetizers as we all kicked back from a busy week.Ensemble Theater patrons came in for a bite, as others could be seen going into the Senate across the street. The Metro bus stopped every 15 minutes or so, dropping off workers as several dads held little ones by the hand, maybe hurrying home for supper. Students cut across the parking lot from the Art Academy, twenty somethings forming an important constituency in the neighborhood. The twenty somethings seem interested in meeting others residing in Over the Rhine, without necessarily understanding how their influx creates modification of the housing supply, leaving shortages for those who have less. This particular evening, I'd noticed several groups of students in conversation with some of the more established neighbors. They seemed engaged, while I circled the block several times for another commodity in short supply, parking.
Back at the restaurant, a neighborhood boy came in selling candy bar.It was reminiscent of a scene from Cheers. The waitstaff and host ponied up to support this "regular" door to door entrepreneur-kiddo.He knew their favorite candies, they knew him by name. This exchange was a joy to see.There was a mutuality in this shopping that helped me see the possibility of real community in this place.I felt conflicted nonetheless. Delicious food, beautifully presented......and priced beyond the means of many people in the neighborhood. As I sat on the inside looking out, I could see in between the people going to dinner and the people going to the theater. Bundled figures, with hoodies pulled up,walking fast in the cold air, carrying backpacks or plastic bags filled with their stuff......these are the homeless, walking these same sidewalks, glancing inside the large plate glass window of this new eatery on Vine.
These days, we're all learning what the view is like from the outside looking into this new and changing reality in Over the Rhine. Maybe it isn't so much a change, as it is a different version of the same barriers that fragment community, that create huge challenges to inclusion and diversity. My discomfort is something I can't fully explain, though it has something to do with equality. I can agree that healthy business is good for the community while also feeling the pull of how access to resources is not equal. That inequality is perhaps what makes a wonderful meal seem less sweet. There is nothing really quite like a table of family, friends and neighbors gathered, with room for everyone and more than enough to go around.
The days and months ahead will invite us to grapple and grow into a changing landscape. It's hard to say what the view will be like in the coming months. Remembering a young entrepreneur selling candy bars to a group of twenty something restaurant workers, I am hoping to see more engagement between old timers and new comers. That would be a community worth looking for, from the outside or from within.

In a Flash.....

2011-01-24T00:44:00.000-05:00

Fine, powdery, delicate snow began falling from the sky in the hours before dawn, just yesterday. Just yesterday.....it seems like a long time ago already, but that is the kind of week it has been.It has been a week when scheduled events have been postponed and an unexpected, never imagined event changed the life in the community in unexpected ways. Snow in Cincinnati can be very difficult to manage. Equipment is limited and the twisting,climbing terrain creates makes everything a skating rink. Driving home today, I couldn't help but be glad for the stillness of this white blanket of snow covering the wide expanses of farm land interrupted by Interstate 71. Blue skies with wispy clouds canopied glistening snows. Still. Peace. Calm. A different feeling, a different prayer, a needed connection with beauty and calm ending a week that seemed to cry out for mercy, and sometimes, simply to cry.
Life in the neighborhood seems more confining in the weeks since the perimeter of Washington Park was fenced off for renovation. Renovation, like innovation sounds so life giving and exciting. In the neighborhood, the loss of the park seems to be creating different kinds of pressures. Familiar faces have moved on from this neighborhood gathering place. A place to run and play....a place to take in some green space....a place to step out from the density of the city, a place to be--these functions of the park are not available to those living in this neighborhood. Learning new ways and finding new places of being together as community are particular challenges in this evolving Over the Rhine.

The intersection of redevelopment with the needs of homeless people, schoolchildren, upscale business, and new residents adds to the layering of challenge, while offering wonderful opportunities for service and friendship. So, when a newcomer to Cincinnati asked about opportunities to serve in Over the Rhine, it made sense to me to meet in the heart of the neighborhood, at Tucker's Restaurant, near the corner of Green and Liberty. Green Street has been barricaded from traffic for over a year, as a law enforcement strategy for clearing the area of unwanted activity. It's hard to know how that is working out. Tuckers Restaurant is a Cincinnati fixture, a kind of "Cheers", where everyone is welcome. It's eclectic, authentically retro,practical, simple.....a small urban diner and haven, a place to be. Minutes after we settled into a booth by the door, two cups of steaming coffee appeared on the table. The Tuesday morning rush was over, giving us some time to catch up with Carla Tucker. Husband Joe was out on errands,so Carla was doing it all...cooking, waiting tables, handling the phones while Momma Tucker, who started the place 65 years ago, was busy grating cheese in the back booth.
Jenny and I talked over an hour, while polishing off a Tucker's veggie omelet and giant pancake with syrup.Jenny reminded me of myself at her age, and the discovery of the Catholic Worker, with its emphasis on hospitality and community. She impressed me with her dedication to those in need and the appreciation for the dignity in each of us, for the ways we all are equal, while having different gifts to share. I remember my amazement at her sensitivity to the issues homeless people face, and wondering what experiences informed her knowledge and her values. It was too rainy to take a walking tour of the neighborhood, so we went on our way with Jenny following my car back to the highway. Then I went on my way to the Over the Rhine Learning Center at 12th and Race. There I learned that two gunman had fired inside Tuckers.Carla had been hit, along with another customer, both caught in the crossfire intended for a specific customer. Slow motion took over my mind with an instant replay of the morning there. Carla had cooked my breakfast that morning. She handed me the change that was now in my wallet. This simply seemed impossible.....I immediately headed for Tuckers.
Chaplains are trained to respond to trauma. Early on, a chaplain needs to quickly assess what the needs are, try to meet people where they are,and offer a sense of hope and companionship, ideally from a place of calm. This situation struck close; Tuckers has been a safe harbor not just for me, but for everyone coming through the doors. Anger, fear, sorrow, devastation, hope, relief, and confusion accompanied me on the way to Vine Street. I parked a block away and walked up to the storefront.The sign on the entrance said "closed" but I knocked on the door and held my identification up to the plexiglass. It was time for the lunch rush; there were no customers...only crime scene tape, Momma Tucker and a dear neighbor from upstairs. " Anything I can do?...." The door opened and I stepped inside, simply there. People sometimes will describe an event like this as feeling like " being in a movie, like it isn't really happening." The aftermath can be that way as well, in the sweeping up of food spilled, napkins dropped and in the shell casings out of place, yet really there on the floor of a family diner. Today, the darkness of the street came in like a close shave,and when evening came, this chaplain was glad to receive some pastoral care of her own.

Momma Tucker

Ranisha Burgin

Days later, two men responsible remain at large, their potential turned over to a street culture of violence.
We now know that Carla will recover, that a young 18 year old mother, Ranisha Burgin, will not walk again, and that Tuckers defy this day to rob them of their way of life. When the restaurant reopened on Saturday, the community was on hand to show their support. They need to keep coming back for the many days it will take to soothe the feeling of violation that came inside the dining room at Tuckers on Tuesday....and to replace business lost during the closing.
"There is a miracle in all this, Momma Tucker told me....a lot to be thankful for." She's right. There is a lot that didn't happen, it could have been worse... and people did not turn a blind eye to what happened. Outraged, they responded with love for those who were harmed. May Love lead us to bring peace and good into this neighborhood, to bring healing and to be grace to each other.

Last year, 72 people were murdered in Cincinnati. Many more were injured and disabled by violence. Some involved themselves in contentious situations...some were domestic situations, others were unfortunately in the wrong place at the wrong time. In a flash, a gun discharges, leaving chaos in its wake and changing lives forever. I feel powerless to do much to change the larger situation. I have to believe that people doing small things with great love can be a powerful force, capable of changing swords into plowshares, spears into pruning hooks, guns into roses. Small things, this I can do.

Shooting at Tuckers Restaurant

Everyone Treated the Same at Tuckers

Woman Paralyzed in Shooting at Tuckers

Mother Speaks Out

Tuckers Reopens

Going on Faith

2011-01-17T08:55:00.000-05:00

"Faith is taking the first step when you don't see the whole staircase", said Rev.Dr. Martin Luther King.
Taking the first step in this circumstance can lead a lot of places......This could be a step taking you to wonderful possibilities. This could be a step that leads to a big tumble down a flight or two of stairs-disaster! What comes after that first step in completely unknown. So, how do you know when it is the time to take a step in faith?
Walking in faith doesn't mean leaving information gathering behind, though you might do just that. It doesn't necessarily mean leaving behind all concerns, all practical considerations, or making every sacrifice....but it could. It doesn't mean embracing what is completely ridiculous....but it might. So, how do you know when it is the time to take a step in faith. In many ways, this is about the integration of faith into a way of life. It's about integrating faith as the driver of your way of life. It's about informing a way of seeing or understanding all that goes on around us each day.
Last week, a visit with Emily reminded me that the inner voice informed by faith is a force to be reckoned with, grappled with, listened to....but, how do you know when its right to take the first step when you don't see what the journey may be about?
At 17, Emily is finishing high school and exploring possibilities for her future. She knows she wants to help people. Having been a refugee, she is familiar with struggle and suffering. She knows about being a stranger in a strange, new country.She knows about having to start over. Emily is thinking about medicine, and taking the time to learn about the staircase that leads to the right opportunity for her to serve.
She knows, she will need to go to college and with help, she takes the beginning steps of identifying schools, and completing applications. It seems like everyone she knows weighs in with advice and suggestions. All of these inform her direction......both toward particular schools, and away from the one place she has been drawn to from the beginning. She is looking for a big landscape, a large university where there is diversity in cultures, a place where she can study in a strong program, a place where she can change her mind. Wise young woman.
Still, conventional wisdom steers her away from this place. She does not meet the typical standards for admission.So she is counseled to put her best energies into applications more likely to result in admission. That is what she does.....but there is this nagging, this interest, this intuition that what seems impossible is exactly what she needs.
Emily wants to take the first step without being able to see if there is even a staircase to follow. She applies on her own, and then informs her advisors, " Maybe I will get in. I want to find out for myself." She knows it's likely she will be advised to take some summer classes and start someplace else and try again. Still, something it telling her to take a step without knowing what the staircase will look like. She has to take the first step if she wants to be open to an unknown pathway. Turning from this particular step is like taking an exit ramp when you want to drive a little further along and see what is around the bend. Emily wants to find out what the next step could be, and then decide if that is the pathway for her.She needs more information. She has to take this step, to bring the next possibilities into view.
It shouldn't have been a surprise that Emily knows about taking chances and seeking her own pathway. She grew up living into the larger unknowns that came when her family fled Their homeland with their lives and little else.....without knowing what the rest of the staircase looked like. What surprised me was her ability to consider the counsel of advice and steer in a different direction. Now, her applications for college are finished, including the one that called to her alone. Maybe her first step will lead her there....maybe her first step is about life learning...maybe it is teenage defiance. All in all, it is a step that belongs to Emily alone, a step she has taken in faith.

Don't Fence Me In.....or Out

2011-01-07T11:15:00.000-05:00

The old year came to an end. The snow melted. Temperatures dropped, then climbed, then dropped again. Resuming my citywalk on the first Monday of the New Year, I quickly realized that scenes in Over the Rhine and west again looked different. Colorful facades mingle with far fewer dilapidated properties as renovations continue. Approaching Vine and 15th, there are street vendors stretching clotheslines between lampposts as a kind of informal outdoor market for used clothing. These are like a pop up shop, reality style. These folks need to quickly make some cash, and move on. Down the street, there are indoor locations for the entrepreneur looking for a regular storefront or a daily market style. These opportunities, of course,come with more overhead!
On this Monday morning, there seem to be more people, more racial diversity, more business apparel, more twenty somethings intermingled with fewer of those who are living with much much less. The sidewalks are cleaner, in better repair.The commercial spaces are clean and shiny. Less trash, fewer obstacles to dodge or step around....I am actually getting a stride going here, but something is missing. Walking further to the north, I begin to see the the familiar faces of neighbors who live in between and outside of these new upscale locations. There is a certain excitement that comes with having these new neighbors, and the exciting new engagements and experiences that they bring to the neighborhood. Artists, screeners, dancers, cooks, young parents, children....the vitality is palpable. Still, there is more work to be done with the weaving of who has been here with who is now here with, with those who will be coming. When the fence went up around the perimeter of Washington Park, I found myself wondering with each step about the life inside and the life outside the fence.

Washington Park
http://www.3cdc.org/

Inside the fence is teaming with workers, and cool equipment like steam shovels,giant trucks, jackhammers.....this is the work of putting up a new parking garage. Outside the fence are the children who cannot get to their playground, the homeless and others who use the park as a respite from the surrounding pavement and brick.As in other types of commerce, drug and human trafficking moves to where the marketing can occur with less interference.It's an ugly part of the city, but nonetheless, the fence will only relocate not terminate business as usual. For those who live and work along the park, there are new neighbors to meet, old neighbors to miss, and less convenience for catching a bus or parking a car. The keyword is change, the unknown is what these changes will mean over time. This week, it feels like having a highway built through the middle of a community and having to listen for a new rhythm that may be leaving some beloved melodies outside the fence.

I thought of this as I drove home at twilight on Wednesday....a beautiful rosy sky to the west, with the light of newer high rises illuminating the sky to the south. In Over the Rhine, new neon signs point to a night life of culinary dining, with theater and art. In the shadows are those who carry with them into the night, all that they have. The contrasts are striking, and always leave me with so many wonderings-always ultimately boiling down to " Where is God in all this?" The stories of meetings with women particularly stand out to me this week. In a scheduled encounter, two women wanting to build connections with other women engaged in the work of building strong communities... In a chance meeting, two women fleeing violent partners, each struggling with the betrayal and the resulting emergency. One alone and homeless, one leaving her home and staying safely with family. What kind of fences would provide sustenance and joy, engagement and community for four women?
Cole Porter's song, Don't Fence Me In is a favorite of mine, as one who loves a big landscape for living and appreciates the safety of a cocoon once in a while. Fences can be an important tool....best used with the understanding of purpose and possibility.....and great care to bring inside what is most important.

On Christmas Day in the Morning: A Story

2011-01-03T23:28:00.000-05:00

The fliers were posted everywhere in Over the Rhine in the days before December 25. Light posts, windows,storefronts, doorways, on a coffee shop bulletin board,on the wooden doors of a church....All welcome is a pretty big invitation. How to even begin to prepare? It's a labor of love, that requires muscle power, too. Still, faith may be the most important part of the preparations for an unknown number of guests, especially on a holiday, especially in a neighborhood where poverty is abundant, especially in a city where many are finding themselves asking for help for the first time. There always seems to be enough, and this day was no exception. Some 300 men, women and children came together for community and breakfast in the basement of First Lutheran Church. Whether at the breakfast table or in the kitchen, they came with a story all their own. What was it like? Come inside. All are welcome here.

Out with the Old, In with the New

2010-12-30T00:16:00.000-05:00

Christmas Day has come, leaving just a few days in this 2010. Saturday begins a whole new year. As I made visits today with folks who are homebound, I wasn't sure what to expect. Today would be the first visits since Christmas, a Christmas in a nursing home, or in a respite center, a Christmas away from home. A week ago, there was little optimism or hope about the Christmas holiday. Not knowing if family would come to visit...knowing family would not be coming to visit...gifts from strangers....the challenge of moving into an apartment on Christmas eve, alone....traditions and memories, ghosts of the past...estrangements....all balled together in the days before Christmas. Being present to the stories hardly seemed to be enough. At the end of each visit, I found myself "wishing and hoping that Christmas will be a good day for you." It was an easy assumption that Christmas would not be completely joyful in situations like these, even for those with a spiritual sense about Christmas.
Visiting today on the fifth day of Christmas was a lesson in gratitude and an affirmation that living one day at a time is key to serenity and peace. Bill had been teary about Christmas in the nursing home, missing people from the past and uncertain what to expect for celebration. "How was Christmas for you?" Bill's face lit up as he described gifts of new pants and shirts, of kindnesses which told Bill that he was cared for and remembered.Joe had a story of a Christmas day with a great dinner, and some gifts from people who cared enough to reach out to a stranger.Mike hoped to go home for Christmas, but instead his family visited.It didn't feel like enough, but, it was something.A young father misses his little daughters in the day to day of his injuries, but at Christmastime, his love was gift wrapped in Winnie the Pooh and Dora the Explorer.These were not Norman Rockwell holidays,nor were they holidays in complete isolation.Just like everyday life, with ups and downs...Just like a certain trip long ago when an unmarried couple had to travel, when common sense would say they should stay at home with a baby on the way. Life doesn't always go according to plan, but can hold silver linings hidden in the dread and disappointment, in the changes we didn't want to happen.Sometimes we can make our own silver lining in the changes big and small that we can choose to make. As 2010 comes to an end, New Years Eve gives us all a chance to make a new start, to choose to hope,and to look in a new direction as a new year begins.As people finished telling the story of their Christmas Day, I took a poll regarding New Years resolutions. While resolutions seem to have lost their lustre, everyone seemed glad for the chance to turn toward a new year,filled with possibilities and HOPE. What better resolution can there be than choosing to turn in a new direction and see possibility? Gandhi says, "Be the change....." Maybe it is the possibility for change that is what keeps us hopeful, hoping, and living into each day. 2011 is a new beginning, just days from today......what are you hoping for?

A Christmas Poem by Franciscan Friar Greg Friedman

2010-12-26T01:06:00.000-05:00

A poem fitting for a snowy Christmas night, too cold to stay outside and not always warm enough to stay inside in the rattling old buildings where the rent is low. Thank you to Father Greg Friedman, who walks these same streets in his life as a Franciscan friar, priest and poet.

Cold Shelter Open

“Cold shelter open”
Reads the flyer from the homeless coalition:
“No Hassles (Homeless or not Homeless)
It will be TOO COLD to be without heat.”
On a night when the threatening kiss of frozen air
Embraces the almost-empty streets,
There is an inn to be found
In the city rec center built where the friars’ church once stood.
Only the red-brick bell tower remains to mark the spot,
Like a confused old man.
Its clock faces without hands,
Allow an eternal now.
Will some Mary and Joseph be inquiring tonight for room,
Pregnant with the city’s hopes,
Seeking to be enrolled on Caesar’s lists,
Pushing bags of belongings and bundled babies?
No hassles tonight from the innkeeper,
No need to seek a stable and be warmed by animals.
Those without heat seek the light
Of the cold shelter,
Hassle-free and just this side of Christmas.

Tonight no shepherds keep watch—
Tonight even the drug boys
Do not await angelic customers on the corners,
No surprising Glorias from the cops awaken the night.
Later this week magi from the suburbs will bring gifts
And lavish the agencies with canned goods and coats,
And return to their own land when advised by other angels.
Tonight all is calm, no hassles.

Now there’s a hope to be wished for,
Which might extend beyond these cold days,
To a springtime resurrection world,
Where the midnight’s quiet birth
Has fulfilled its prophesy
Of no hassles evermore.
(c) 2010 Greg Friedman

Waiting for Light

2010-12-22T00:18:00.000-05:00

I have been wanting to share the stories of the past two weeks, from visits and chance meetings as a new year of wintry walks resumed in Over the Rhine. The days and evenings seem to bleed into one another, and while there are lots of stories, there is little time to share them, with shoveling snow, fighting something the flu shot missed and adjusting to the short days and long nights of winter. The stories will come, in their own time.Though it is Advent, there hasn't been much time for waiting. The snow comes, and feet cannot wait for boots. The cold comes, and a body can't wait for a coat and a place to stay. Darkness comes, and the soul longs for Light, for Peace, for Home. Winter arrived quickly in Cincinnati and seems determined to stay, without caring if there is room at the inn for a homeless family sleeping in a car in a city far away from Bethlehem.

When winter comes, it can be hard to know whether to pray Lord Have Mercy or Come Emmanuel or both as a litany in these days made harsh by temperatures and in trouble, made new by a blanket of snow, made holy in the many ways great and small that care is shared among friends and strangers when Christmastime is here. Christmas seems without joy for so many struggling with lost jobs and unfamiliar need, but perhaps it is in the difficulty that Christmas light is brightest. The brightest star lit up the sky above a stable, where a baby was born to an unmarried woman many years ago.
The warmest candlelight glowed tonight in Washington Park tonight, in a time for remembering the homeless who died in this past year. Where will the light shine in the coming days? Where will we each find our places of warmth and of love? This is exactly the right time, these are the days that scream for love and light. May Light find each of us, and brighten the pathways we share together in the coming days of Christmastime.

We remember the homeless who have died this past year: Harry Shiver, Dave Eickman, Walter Burris, John Keefe, Raymond Ashcraft, Steve Goebel, Marvin Cox, Daniel Wilson, Stanley Crouch, Robert Smith, Charles Woodteared, JohnWaino, Linda Hetrick, Dwayne Collins, Chuck W., Rick H., Wayne F., Richard Nelson, Doffus Jordan, Pat O'Brien, Pat O'Brien, Jeff Hittle, and the others we may not know.....

Another House that Love Built

2010-12-05T15:59:00.000-05:00

It was a cold morning in the backyard of the new Jimmy Heath House, but the warmth and size of the crowd gathered there provided shelter from the winter chill. Friday morning was ribbon cutting day and love was in the air...love enough to reach out on behalf of those in need,love enough to work through differences, love enough to persevere and find a way to transform several dilapidated row houses in to safe and affordable housing for homeless men dealing with addictions. As the honored guests gathered with giant yellow scissors to cut the ribbon, you couldn't help but appreciate the diversity of collaborators involved -police, politicians,bankers, clergy, advocates, activists, homeless men and family members. Love can build bridges. Welcome to the Jimmy Heath House. Welcome Home.Jimmy Heath House opens

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

2010-11-28T20:50:00.000-05:00

About a year ago, I walked into The Monday morning service at First Lutheran Church in Cincinnati, and shortly after, began visiting the Overflow Shelter for the Homeless on Wednesday nights. This is a welcoming and inclusive community, providing care and sanctuary in one of Cincinnati's poorest neighborhoods, Over the Rhine. They have been serving without heat since last winter, and the exterior walls seem to be literally melting away with each rain. They ask for help, not for themselves, but for the good of everyone who comes to the door.

http://news.cincinnati.com/article/20101129/NEWS01/11280343/0/NEWS010701/No-heat-for-poor-only-love

"All for the Sake of Love"

2010-11-19T21:47:00.000-05:00

Rounding the corner of Oxford and Preble Street, I wondered if I was at the right location. On this cold and blustery morning in Maine, this corner is quiet and isolated, surrounded by warehouses, with a view of the Wayside Soup Kitchen, around the block from the Oxford St Shelter, proximate to a hodgepodge of upscale restaurants, quick stop bars and the Portland downtown. This is a homecoming for me. I am a Mainiac at heart, living in the Midwest. Accompanying me today is my dear friend, Karen St.Peter, an Interfaith chaplain in the Portland area. This city of Portland has captured my imagination and heart since I first stepped foot here as a 16 year old girl going to her first musical. Today, I am here for a different purpose.

It’s Sunday and this four way stop is about to undergo a transformation into a different kind of intersection- a street church. Thanks to technology, I've found a new colleague in the pastor on the streets of Portland. Today, I will meet her in person. Pastor Mair Honan has been the chaplain with Grace Street Ministries for the past five years. Each week, she walks the city, offering homeless people the gift of friendship and spiritual support. She carries a supply of much needed gloves, socks, and clean underwear, but it is her availability to listen and lift people who have fallen through the cracks that is at the heart of the ministry. She has a sense about her call to serve among the homeless. I feel that stirring in my own life as well. Mair’s support and counsel has been such an encouragement to me, as I stepped out to meet people on my own corners at Race &12th, Liberty &Vine, and Pendleton at 13th, many miles from this intersection.
This work is both privilege and trust, so enriched by the diversity of people, and in the grace born in the unexpected.It can be hard and harsh as well. Cold weather, hot weather,wet weather,all weather. There is heartbreak, suffering, grace with a bite.Street ministers go where the people are,borrowing the same places that the homeless borrow for a moment of peace, warmth and a bite of food in the company of others. Day to day, the ministry can feel like a gyroscope-morphing, adapting, stretching, changing, responding and calling for constant readiness for what each person brings into the visiting. This is a ministry on the edge. It is a blessing to know people like Mair Honan, and others who understand the street and wade deeply into our world to be present to those on the outside, for Love.

11:20 am, and Joe approaches the corner, carrying a small wooden TV table. Pastor Mair’s car is parked at the corner; she has taken a walk to the shelter plaza to invite people to church. As other sacristans prepare Sunday altars, Joe carefully gathers the vessels from the sacristy of Pastor Mair’s car and sets the table. A blue glazed plate holding a single croissant with a mug half filled with grape juice become the focal point of a growing circle of people, as two men come, then a few more. Pastor Mair arrives at the crosswalk. We meet in the middle of the intersection.
The circle grows tighter against cold as she welcomes and invites all to prayer.Breaking the croissant into generous pieces for each one, Mair shares the story," He gathered at supper with friends, with people just like us." The cold now is so biting, noses run and eyes water. Her hands gracefully lift each piece from the plate, dipping into the cup and offering to each extended hand, “Bread of Life”. Prayers spill into intentions then becoming the invitation to pray “as He taught us”. My cold fingertips press into the warm hand of the man standing next to me. “Amen”. Sustaining grace.

Slowly, the circle opens. Joe carefully clears the TV table altar and returns everything to the rolling sacristy parked across the street. Back at her car, Pastor Mair connects with those remaining, listening, passing out socks and underwear before heading on her way. A soup pot is handed to a couple setting up life in a new apartment. Someone asks for prayers for a baby. Another makes plans to connect with Pastor Mair next week. We chat a few minutes more. Then she is gone. A few linger in the hospitality of the soup kitchen,sharing a little more time together in the company of community. It’s Sunday, after church, in Portland, Maine.

Full Circle

2010-11-14T23:59:00.000-05:00

The daily schedule has been running behind for weeks.....Each day I have a schedule in hand, and a weekly one, too. It helps to keep things on track, but only to a degree. Lately, the schedule has been running an hour or two later than planned, though sometimes, it seems that the timing was all just right. There have been some surprises in the course of these days that leave me feeling that indeed, there is a Great Scheduler involved in our lives. It's not that I believe our lives are orchestrated moment by moment, with intersections and meetings ordained to be. Still, there are times that are so filled with grace and serendipity that all I can do is appreciate God's hand in the everyday. I try to be alert to the wonder, when grace seems to drop into a day running behind, completely off schedule.
A couple of weeks ago, I blocked off two hours for making visits. Usually, this is just about right, but this day was different. Each conversation needed it's own time, and before I knew it, more than three hours had passed. One more stop, hoping to be home in an hour.Three hours later......
Grace,serendipity.......a surprise!
While I am finishing up a delivery in Over the Rhine, two women walk in. Angela introduces herself, and turns to introduce her friend....but we already know each other. Months before, on another day of running late, I met Vicki. That day, Vicki was at her wits end. She was so burned out from living hard, being on the street....she had had enough. Making the decision to seek treatment was not enough to make it so. She needed to get her gear out of The Drop, and make her way several miles to Clifton and treatment. She needed to maintain her resolve through the temptation of the street pulling on her through the day. What she needed in this moment was a way to get there.
Our ride together was punctuated with tears, worries, and the raw desperation that comes when body and soul can't take anymore. This was her own Garden of Gethsemane, wondering where God was, certain that there was no reason that God would help her and be with her; she had fallen short before.

Winding up the steep Vine Street hill,Vicki and I are talking at a gut level about those things that haunt in the dark of night and in the dark times of the soul. Fear, change,loneliness, desperation.... desolation and certainty that God has no reason to come, having been turned away, rejected, ignored when living hard had rewards of its own.
But, that is not how God works.
And sometimes, we just need to have a reminder, to remember and believe, to hold onto and to turn to, to dig into what faith remains in the ashes of a broken life and to turn to the One who promises to walk with in every circumstance.
Conversation melts into prayer, all in a car climbing up the winding hill of Vine Street and carrying two women only introduced to each other an hour earlier. Dropping Vicki's luggage inside the treatment center, I wondered what would happen to her, and if she would be strong enough to handle all it would take to become whole again.
Fast forward to another afternoon, another day unfolding to its own drummer, with its own need and timing. There is a knock at the door and there is Angela, with her friend, Vicki. Four months have passed. She needs a winter coat and some shoes. She is looking for work and hoping to sing in the church choir. Vicki is back in life. It's good to see an old friend.

One Day Last Week

2010-10-18T00:13:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I can get into routines where I find a whole day has gone by and I have lived in a postage stamp sort of way. A day off may become literally a day at home, in the house with no awareness at all of what is happening outside the door.A quiet day can be a good thing. Still, some days, it seems like a story of disconnection, multiplied house by house in the subdivision where I live, where neighbors don't know each other as well as they might, even as we live side by side.
In the city, it can be the same. A week can go by with all kinds of engagements, and without any awareness of what life is like on the other side of the neighborhood. Comfort zones, busy schedules, unexpected events, catching up can take up the space of a day....time can pass so quickly. Last week, one particular day took me to a new place, with a new lens for viewing some ways the neighborhood is changing, and some ways it is remaining the same.

Doug Slagle pastors The Gathering, an open and affirming storefront church in the United Church of Christ tradition. The Main Street storefront itself makes a presence in the neighborhood; it seems so inviting and I found this to be true as Doug welcomed me for a conversation about community chaplaincy and to share about The Gathering community. The care they offer to homeless teenagers is inspirational. That it is needed is heartbreaking. Children abandoned, runaways who do they must to survive....these are offered resources and support through this small intentional community, deliberately established in the city, as a witness and response to the needs created by different brands of poverty. Community members meet the kids where they are, and faithfully keep coming back, gently offering friendship and connection, toiletries and snacks. It isn't easy; the paradox being how hope is seeded in that willingness to take the risk and walk with suffering and abandonment. This story is a powerful testimony to what can happen when a community decides to put love into action.

Main Street has a mix of social clubs, bars, and restaurants sprinkled in between churches and services. A walk will take you past Mary Magdalene house where you can get a shower, and Mercy Franciscan St John, offering supported and affordable housing. This day, it was the print shop window that caught my attention on Wednesday, with an unusual display. It seemed seasonal; it easily could have been about Halloween, or something for football season. I walked back to take a second look, did I really see what thought I saw? Memorial tee shirts.......photographs and memories, dates of death, family and friends...a display of memorial t shirts, front and back, all reflecting the reality that so many young African American men and women are being lost to our shared future through gun and domestic violence. How sad that this is so frequent an occurrence in our city that memorial tee shirts are part of our culture, represented in the storefront of a small business along Main Street. I can't accept that this is how things have to be. Moving on......

Late afternoon on the other side of the neighborhood gave a new perspective to a familiar scene. In the sunshine of a glorious fall afternoon, the park is alive with gatherings. Loud conversations give way to the delight of school children at play, are punctuated by an escalating one way communication of a young man toward a partner clearly walking away for him. His words were like knives, and she kept walking without making contact of any kind. Pulling up a seat on the curbing near the park, I join some familiar friends for a catch up. People are asking about the new sign on the Lutheran church, where a capital campaign is underway to replace the furnace, non functional since January. These friends are familiar with the meaning of losing a furnace in this particular building-home, help and refuge whether your chips are up or down. As the pastor steps into the street, he is greeted warmly. He knows each one by name, familiar with their stories.....people come with a myriad of concerns. What you notice is how similar this all looks to a homecoming or a dinner table gathering at the end of the day. There is a sense of mutual respect and affection, of welcome, of interest, of community. Struggles are palpable, coming through the frantic voice of one man, who needs help with understanding a bank record. There are two women, so very very thin, with beautiful smiles they feel safe to share here, smiles revealing that that dental care and nourishment have not been as they have needed. Another man asks advice about housing, now that his benefits are beginning to come. "Where are you looking?,"the pastor asks.
"Where do you think I should look? " Joe seeks some counsel.
"You have an opportunity for you to think about where you would like to be, to choose." The pastor shines a light on a place this man hasn't seen in years. He has new choices, that are his to make.Where to live, what to eat, when to eat.....these are the kinds of everyday choices that slip away when poverty impacts a life. As when a weak battery needs someone to come with the booster cables, sometimes we need to help each other by bringing light to places we might not see. As the pastor steps away to partner on the math of banking, Joe looks over at the sign on the church." I'm going to give something for that! It's a good place." Then we share a chuckle about how we both look forward to the Monday community lunch in a heated space! But, we wouldn't miss it for the world, chilly or not. Joe says, "I'll be around, even if I move to a different neighborhood. This is my place."

This day runs into the dark of night, which comes around 9 pm these days. The park is crackling with people; you can hear their chatter through the leaky windows at 1208 Race, echoing across the block that surrounds the park. Late night, some will go and others will sleep outside, but it will be hours before quiet comes. As I head home, I do a loop around the block, and see a new side of Vine Street, where redevelopment has taken hold. Lots of new condos and upscale businesses have emerged over the past year, but this night I can really appreciate that more has changed than the facades of the buildings. An attended parking lot is the scene of well dressed couples returning to their cars, walking perhaps from some of the dining establishments now open in the evening. There are plenty of people out and about, less volume perhaps than just one block away, clearly better resourced than neighborhood residents living below the poverty line. One block of buildings separates the two scenes- a balmy autumn night, with people out and about, interacting and being together, snapshots and slices of urban night life. Only one block of buildings in between, but what truly separates is far more complex. Soon, peace and sleep will come to this night, but not for everyone. Some will sleep outside in the vulnerability of the late night air, while others shelter inside, where spiritual poverties invisible to others can make for nights that are neither silent nor holy.
Driving home, I am wondering what is yet to come in this neighborhood, worrying that development could erase the poor instead of poverty, and wondering what it would take for a block of separation to become a place for weaving a diverse and welcoming community. Change. May Light illuminate our path.

Home is Where the Heart Is

2010-10-13T00:13:00.000-04:00

On the wall in my mother's home is a heart shaped plaque " Home is Where the Heart Is."
I thought a lot about that statement last week, as I traveled far from my home into a new territory where I had never been before. Strangely, it seemed like coming home to a comfortable place, familiar, and welcoming. This was a new adventure, spiced with nostalgia.
Traveling north on Interstate 75, I left the city behind me. Before long, I was lost in the golden grasses and farm fields,and church steeples, interrupted by occasional sprawl,downtown or outlet. The foliage was a wonderful surprise, unexpectedly diverse and beautiful in it's array of color. Drought conditions this summer had many expecting a limited show unlike this big splash of yellow, orange, red and maroon, brown and lime. What a display, laid out like a vast carpet, or rolling field of tree trunks like rainbow broccoli, mile after mile, on and on until the minds eye travels back in time to autumns past. The smells, the crunching sounds, the color all surrounded the Octobers of my youth. This past week called back to that time, not on the shores or mountains of Maine, but instead on the shores of the Great Lakes, stunningly blue and active, a great inland sea.Like home. Feeling at home, where the heart is.
There is something about traveling along roads like these, where momentary changes in light bring changing views to the forest and field. Wonderings about about God's eye, God's
imagination bring a sense of joy and delight.Wonderings...could we ever know how many shades
of red make up the autumn forest? Why do the geese change positions before ultimately forming the familiar V for the journey south. What is it a out the rustling of the wind through marsh
grass invites you to extend your hand to be grazed by the delicate silky tops?
Such is autumn along the Great Lakes.....like autumn along the coast of New England...like autumn in the Maine woods.
The scenes fill the senses with beauty, and remind me to seek nature, and beauty. These fill the soul and give hearts tried by the world's trouble a place to rest and be at home.

May God give us peace

2010-10-02T09:04:00.000-04:00

This weekend is the celebration of St. Francis of Assisi, lover of people, animals and creation. We need a big infusion of Franciscan spirit these days......that sense of hearing God's invitation to serve and acting with boundless love,courage, and willingness to let go of anything that creates a barrier to love. He reached out to meet the outcasts, the poor, the lepers of his day, and the leaders of his day,the Pope and the Sultan....all for love.
In celebration of St. Francis, May the Lord give us peace.

A Moment of Company

2010-10-01T10:44:00.000-04:00

It was a tough day yesterday. Profound need and suffering that raises so many questions. Why suffering? What touches and eases suffering? I became overwhelmed by one man's suffering and lost my peace of mind for the day, wondering where God is in all of this. What I forgot is that God is in all of this, and I am not God! It was a troubling day, with a few unexpected surprises.
The first was heartbreaking. Joseph was in his bed, his body positioned in away that looked so contorted and uncomfortable. He was struggling to get the plastic wrap off of his plate.As I approached to help him, I could see he was skin and bones, with many bandages covering wounds from infection and from blood draws and from injections. He looked up and said, I am in so much pain. Joseph explained the procedures he had been through and and the one coming over the weekend...hopefully, it would relieve his pain. He was so weak, he would't be needing his silverware. His plan was to nibble at his plate, hand to mouth. Maybe he knew that his mouth could be cut by a poke of a fork. His lips were so dry, with skin so tight. We settled on lollipops as a way to lubricate his lips. Joseph....all I know is he is suffering, and that was what I needed to know in this moment. He was too weak and sleepy to say more today...Joseph, alone in a new place, with new and unfamiliar caregivers. Prayer seemed like something we could do together, something that didn't need working fingers, and luminous skin. As I took his right hand, he moved his left across the rumpled sheets and took mine. Joseph....how I wished I could hear his story. His eyes told today's story. A day of living in a "so much pain".This is Joseph's agony in the his garden of rumpled sheets, plastic wrap and lollipops. Does knowing Jesus suffered something that brings companionship to his isolation? Does knowing there is resurrection something that brings hope? I have no idea......I hope that there was something of companionship and hope in two strangers clasping hands; He reminded me so of Lazarus, and I felt so completely powerless to ease his situation.
Leaving the room, a nurse approached me with a reminder to wash up again. Joseph has an infection..I hope that Joseph's infection invites people to be present to him, to sit with him, to make nourishment available to him and to hold his hand. It didn't seem to be working that way.
Washing up, moving on, I made a stop in the lunchroom where Mary Ann yells out my name. She has confusion but not about my schedule. "Thursday morning...Bea, you come on Thursday morning."
"Yes, I do Mary Ann but not next week. The next time I see you will be October 14. "She reaches to give me a big hug, and I am baptized in remnants of fried chicken from her lunch. Well, I did need that renewal. I can feel my stewing and brewing....Joseph.
Mary Ann asks me, "Do you have those peppermint patties? Can I have two, I save them for later....."As I hand her the candies, she reaches in her pocket. I see that she has her candies from last week. Then, she hands last weeks's candies to Robert and puts the new ones into her pocket. That makes me smile.
On to visit Neil. I have a surprise for him. Last week, he asked me if I could get him some starbursts...he loves starbursts and directed me to go to Sam's Club. where they are sure to have "a super sized bag." I have them. I have the starbursts.....and as I approach Neil, he is shaking his head.
"I can't have them.....diabetes."
I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Really? Here is this man, is in his 30's, in a wheelchair, in a nursing home....and now no sweets...Ironic? Well, he doesn't seem too distressed by this, so I finish up my visits and move on. Next, I'll drop off my leftover candy where it can be enjoyed. This is better than storing it in the non climate controlled environment of my "office space" - the trunk of my car. It's a short drive down Mt. Auburn.
By the time I arrive at the Over the Rhine Learning Center, I can feel the tears coming. Joseph and his suffering, Mary Ann and her peppermint patty communion, Neil, and what do I think I am doing, bringing, being in this ministry? I feel like Charlie Brown, wondering is this what Christmas is really about? Where is God in all this? Today I want something more tangible than believing in God's presence in the suffering, something different than a witness to agonies in the garden. Honestly, a miracle would be nice. I need a moment, to collect myself and to be myself. I need a moment of peace.
Outside it is a beautiful fall day, and lots of people are walking along the sidewalks in the neighborhood. I see plenty of young moms and dads, with their toddlers in arms or by the hand. This is not a place where you can let a child run ahead, or stop to be curious about what they see on the sidewalk. These children have few opportunities to be exploring, imagining, running, skipping kids. They have to grow up fast. As I park my car, I can hear the sounds of laughter and play coming from behind the fence at the School for the Creative and Performing Arts. It is delightful and joyous, a safe haven.
Ironic.
The moment can't wait. I slip inside the church next door to the Learning Center and take a breath. The sounds of Race Street leak into the thin spaces, through cracked window caulk, leaky windows of stained glass, through the stone masonry that is the place where the church intersects with the world outside. Stillness comes, to the buzzing of the vacuum cleaner preparing the sanctuary, through the sounds of the cityscape, into this aching heart. And then it is time to go.
Stepping outside, I find Thomas sitting on the steps of the church. He is a new friend who has has his own life intersections with trouble and consequence, now with illness. Sitting down next to him, I hear myself sigh. Across the street, mounted police are in the park. One horse is chestnut and the other a dapple grey. So beautiful and graceful. Thomas updates me in the day. We catch up about his doctor's appointment and how he is feeling. He asks me about my husband and family. I am grateful for his company and I experience for myself that a momentary presence doesn't take away the suffering, but it can bring blessing and hope. Good.
Amen

Patience and Fortitude

2010-09-27T09:12:00.000-04:00

"Keep coming back, it works" is one of the send off blessings used at Alcoholics Anonymous. I've learned the value in "keep coming back" in unexpected ways this past week. There can be a deep isolation in people who live with a major mental illness that can make relationship and connection a huge challenge. Depression and delusion are among the culprits which interfere with the give and take of relationship, leading to some difficult life situations. It can't be good for a homeless person with mental illness to be living so vulnerably on the street. Depression may be a relief in a twenty something suddenly disabled by gun violence, now unable to live at home.
Help is needed, but how? What kind? Who? Relationship is needed for even the tiniest entry point.
So often, we measure our direction in this life by results. Try something for awhile, or set up benchmarks, and then comes a plan of action. Goals and objectives, measurable results....all these are important ways for driving projects to completion and for providing accountability and clarity in shared efforts. More and more, I am encountering situations and personalities that fall through the cracks with a fragility and brokenness that a point of connection feels impossible to make.
It isn't reasonable to expect anyone to simply trust a stranger who wants to be helpful. There are all kinds of reasons, but the most important one may sound surprising. The foundation of a reciprocal relationship with the dignity of participating in decisions is so important to what happens after that first "is these something I can do to help?" In other words, "ask, don't tell" .....at least until there is a close relationship where bossing and telling is part of the give and take of family.
It can all take a long time in the best of circumstances. Throw in chronic mental illness, abuse, PTSD, addiction and the recipe for building trust starts with the word SIMMER. SIMMER and Gently Visit and stir for as long as it takes to form connection. Just last week, I learned this in an unexpected encounter with Joe. Joe has been in a nursing home for several years. He is in his 20's and lost large parts of a bright future to an encounter with a bullet. The week before Joe's story came up repeatedly in conversation, as I wondered aloud if I would ever find a way to connect with him. Wednesday afternoon came, and in an unexpected opening,Joe shared his story.
It had been a year of simmering, stirring with brief visits or a candy left on a bedside table.
Keep coming back. It works.

Sustaining Life in the City and Country

2010-09-20T00:14:00.000-04:00

I grew up in a small rural town, where travel was a true necessity. Any major medical, dental or shopping issue required a drive to a much larger town, 2 hours away. Even the golden arches of McDonald's required that kind of road trip. One of the biggest surprises about urban life has been how localized it can be. In spite of the diversity of cultures and the wide range of experiences a city offers, accessibility is a huge issue. This is particularly true in neighborhoods dominated by poverty, poor transportation, and the life stealer- alcohol, drugs, and lack of educational opportunity. So many people have never been out of their neighborhood, or the few adjoining communities nearby. Whatever the reason, usually it is poverty....no money, no transportation, so reason, the dynamic of staying strictly in the same environment day after day has its limitations. Lately I have been thinking about the contrasts in urban and rural life. The oppressive heat coming up from steaming sidewalks is for me enough of a reminder of how critical it is to balance city life with the refreshment and beauty of green space. Dorothy Day and Peter Maurin, with their colleagues in the Catholic Worker, recognized the importance of balance, change of scene, and connection of people to the natural world. Catholic Worker Houses of Hospitality straddle and integrate places of deep poverty, whether in the city or in the countryside, whether spiritual or material. In Over the Rhine,and some other city neighborhoods, community gardens bring some of that refreshment.

Vacant lots turned into vibrant places producing food, and also providing engagement in a lovely green space. These days, there is a lot of color.....from the red and gold of the tomatos to the rusty brown of toasted sunflowers. These gardens bring a lot to my days and hopefully to those living in some of the most squalid conditions I have seen. The Catholic Worker movement understood how important the connections of city and countryside are for the sustenance of the body and soul. It would be awesome to connect a rural property or farm with the urban core in Cincinnati, to create a means for people in the city to experience a time of retreat and rural living. Findlay Market and these urban gardens connect local food sources with the city. Still, there just is no substitute for a long walk in a meadow as a space for cultivating and renewing our inner beings.
City life/country life. Different kinds of poverty abide in each. Regardless of location, poverty is the thief of opportunity. Lack of opportunity starves aspiration. Lack of aspiration breeds hopelessness or apathy which in turn brews all kinds of troubles like alcohol, crack, violence and abuse. These are found in the hollows of Appalachia as well, where rural beauty weaves in and out of the same hallmarks of poverty.

I always felt I'd rather be poor in the country than poor in the city....as if one gets to choose any of these factors! My childhood included farm work during the harvest and it always seemed to me that the country offered more opportunity for being self sustaining through hunting, fishing and farming. The city seemed to create a greater dependency on others to market products and harvests needed for daily living. The community gardens are an effort to bring that opportunity for raising food into the urban environment, and the chance to build community in the way a barn raiser does in the country.
Over the weekend, I was able to leave the city, and have some time, literally, in the cornfields of northwestern Ohio. It is amazingly rural, with enormous expanses of field dotted with small towns and many many church steeples..It is harvest time, and I was excited at being able to recognize the different kinds of farm equipment after so many years. Driving west into the sunset, the dried corn stalks were truly fields of gold. Stunning, and peace filled.

With open arms

2010-09-08T21:01:00.000-04:00

Under the shade of a tree, there was Micah....Micah, kneeling on the sidewalk, facing traffic, eyes toward the heavens, his arms stretched wide as if ready to embrace, as if ready to fly, as if tied to a cross. What did he see, that I couldn't see? What was he hearing, that I couldn't hear? I drove down Liberty Street, wishing there was a place to park the car and join him in the shade.

A NEW YEAR BEGINS

2010-09-01T00:15:00.000-04:00

It's been a year since Points of Connection intentionally and prayerfully began an ecumenical ministry to connect people and places to enrich life and to build community. Offering pastoral presence and care to those who are homeless and homebound is our outreach mission. The new friends and colleagues along the road have enriched our lives beyond imagination. This year has been one with lots of learning about the city and the resiliency of people living in poverty of spirit, of health, of community, and of basic human need. To our neighborhood friends in Over the Rhine and Avondale, thank you for sharing your road with us. To our colleagues in ministry, thank you for the work you do to care for those in need,for sharing your experience and friendship, for your welcome and your support. It all means more than can be expressed.Today is a new day, the start of a new year of service. May God bless our efforts with wisdom and energy. May God steer us to exactly where we need to be. May all be well.

Of Blessing and Consequence

2010-08-24T09:47:00.000-04:00

The sounds of young children at recess fill the air on the playground outside Washington Park.Across the street to the north is Washington Park, and a police car sits in between.At least a third of the park is closed right now,as the redevelopment of the green space begins, with a new underground parking garage and reconstructed plazas. It will be nice to have these gathering spaces for people coming out of the Cincinnati Music Hall or church on a Sunday. I've heard that the park may eventually flow seamlessly from this playground space to the north of the new school. Will there be a place for everyone? It needs to be so.

Change comes with blessing and consequence. Science tells us that for every action there is a reaction. This is true in the life of a community as well. In the blessing comes new neighbors, new experiences, new resources, new jobs, a new story of people sharing a life together .....What is blessing to one will be consequence to another. One consequence here has been the loss of the Washington Park Elementary School. While the new School for the Arts is a magnet school bringing in children from many neighorhoods, Washington Park School was a place of community for children and families living in this neighorhood. How deeply will the consequences reach into the fabric of the neighorhood? What will happen to low cost housing as redevelopment occurs? What will happen to the network of care for our neediest neighbors? Will the mantra be "move over and let's be together" or "move on to a different part of the city. People who are refugees or homeless know all too well how consequences flow from change. This is a city that knows a lot about the cost of disruption when neighborhoods are reconstructed in the name of progress.

Just ask anyone who "used to live" where interstate 75 or 71 went through....or ask the Norwood folks who lost the story of a multigenerational neighborhood in the name of progress and development. The city belongs to everyone and comes filled with life giving possibility through inclusion and diversity. Hoping for the wisdom to do this hard work of collaboration and inclusion.

The First Day of School in a Changing Neighborhood

2010-08-18T23:47:00.000-04:00

Good morning from Enzo's Coffee Shop in Cincinnati, where I have a front row, air conditioned seat to the first day of school at the brand new School for the Performing Arts.
I've already had a walk around Washington park and a walk around the adjacent block at Central Parkway and Race St, where literally, a whole town of performing arts students, parents, teachers, bus drivers, staff, and security becomes the newest neighbors in Over the Rhine. 1425 students, from kindergarteners to high schoolers have come here to learn in an amazing 72 million dollar facility, the only public school of it's kind in the country, the best equipped public school in a city where low graduation rates and poorly performing schools wear the badge, "academic emergency".

The scene here has a lot of excitement as parents bring the youngest ones by the hand, and small groups of teenagers stroll by with instrument cases, and morning hair in a variety of eclectic styles and electric colors. There are some things to negotiate for new arrivals this morning, like finding a parking place and yielding for school buses (I've seen three cars towed already)...figuring out which door to go into, and meeting the neighbors who are sitting on stoops, and park benches nearby.

Over the Rhine neighbors are also an eclectic group of people.I say eclectic because this neighborhood is in a state of major transition. The Drop Inn Center, a shelter for homeless men and women, sits across the street from the school. Washington Park is directly to the north, connecting the school with residential streets under redevelopment, neighborhood churches, and business as well as greenspace. People sleep in this park at night;some spend the day there;some get involved in street trade, prostitution, and what one man once described as, "the temptations of life". Some worry that the park community is not compatible with the needs of the students, indeed the safety of the school community or with the economic redevelopment underway in this area. This is an area of the city where openness and vigilance are constantly in tension. Others worry that this new "town" opening today may not be compatible with those who need affordable housing and services, those involved with the gritty sides urban living...over time, these issues will sort themselves out. One thing we can agree on: Every child should have access to a quality education that supports their needs and gifts.

This morning,a neighorhood woman stopped me and we got to chatting about the school. We watched together as one mom helped her little boy out of the car, complete with a fresh lunch box and a bowler hat over the top of a fresh haircut.....he was so excited and so adorable. "What do you think about all this", I asked her. "I think it is really exciting, it is going to great to have the kids in the neighborhood." From the lips of a woman with her own belongings in a bag at her side, "Welcome."

I will admit I have a lot of mixed feelings about the changes that will come, and a lot of hope about possibility. Today I will set aside the concerns and celebrate what this first day of school means for the children...the amazing opportunities available within these walls, and the real life learning that could take place at the intersection of this school and the community surrounding it. Could the walk to school be an opportunity to talk about poverty... about addiction.... about diversity... about justice....about mental health... about compassion? Are there possibilities for community service and "giving back" to the community which has committed resources for this school in a time when financial resources are in shorter supply? Who knows what may come as new neighbors become part of the fabric of this changing neighborhood? Maybe this immersion into this urban intersection will someday inspire a young creative mind to develop new solutions to the pressing needs that affect the people visible out their classroom windows. For now, let's all get to know each other, and enjoy the beauty, art and energy that just joined us in Over the Rhine.
Welcome to the community at the School for the Performing Arts.Have great first day of school!

Changes of Scene

2010-08-04T22:27:00.000-04:00

The city has been boiling hot, the kind of heat and humidity some people pay for at the spa. Here in Cincinnati, it is free just by walking to your car, or the mailbox. Steamy. It slows you down. There is no way to sprint along in temps like 90, let alone today's peak of 106 degrees. Well, that is August in the Ohio Valley. There are some good things about it....like, being able to wear a casual ponytail in any situation.....like how delicious ice coffee can be...but there are issues, too. Hot temps lead to hot tempers and when this happen in traffic, well...... let's just say it was kinda sultry today. I took a drive toward Louisville on Saturday morning. Getting off the highway in Sparta, Kentucky, I was sure I'd find nice breakfast place for a meeting with a friend from Louisville. At the exit, gas and coffee, with a sign pointing to Belterra Casino, five minutes. I wasn't looking for the gambling boat, it was a breakfast diner I wanted. I headed toward the river and discovered some really beautiful country. No bluegrass, but graceful rolling hills, lush green deciduous forest with meadows and fields holding the scenes all together. The soybeans were tall, alternating with tobacco. There at the top of the bundle of tobacco leaves were delicate lavender flowers, trumpety flowers.

Coming from potato country as I do, these scenes have some familiarity. I can imagine workers in these fields harvesting tobacco by hand, like I did as a potato picking child in the crown of Maine. Tobacco, so pretty,so deadly.....the fields rolled down to the riverbanks of the Ohio. This was a different Ohio river than the one with banks in Cincinnati. This Ohio has wide sand bars, marshy places with Great Blue herons, one riverside breakfast restaurant featuring home cooking and one casino on the Indiana side. It was a nice change of scene in a place chosen randomly for being in the middle, between Cincinnati and Louisville. August begins and back in the city, the weather is typical, but life is not predictable at all. There has been a lot of trouble in the city, which I won't go into right now, but there has also been grace. Sometimes, it is the smaller glimmers that can sooth a toasty day. Today there was a birthday celebration at Respite Care, with singing and stories, with old friends and new, and an amazing potluck to share. Leaving to visit next door, I found my peppermint candy stash still frozen, and today, that was just right. A walk in the neighborhood heat, followed by coffee over a glass full of ice truly was something to savor. Sometimes a change of scene can bring refreshment of the mind and soul. Sometimes, changing the way we look at scenes in everyday life can bring another point of view so that a hot, sultry day can slow us down to be together and enjoy the what the season brings.

Transforming the Road to Jericho

2010-08-01T15:18:00.000-04:00

As I was driving out of the neighborhood on Friday, the heat and humidity were lower, and the car's AC provided a nice oasis from the steaming pavement where I had been parked earlier.

I have been reading "Souls in the Tender Hands of God, Stories of the Search for Home and Healing on the Streets" by Craig Rennebohm. Craig shares his experiences and learning about mental illness through the lens of his personal life and his years of experience as a chaplain on the street. Many of his visits have been with people who are living with mental illness. Within his writing, he quotes Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., from a sermon at Riverside Church in New York City: "We are called to play the Good Samaritan on life's roadside; but that is only an initial act. One day we must come to see that the whole road to Jericho must be transformed so that men and women will not be constantly beaten and robbed as they make their journey on life's highway."

If ever there was a call to community, this would be it. Hope begins with one step; transformative change takes the work and faithfulness of many who are willing to love radically, consistently, one step at a time. I have a lot of questions about how to transform the road to Jericho, and my own inner road to Jericho where my own prejudices,and priorities need transformation, where the Gospel of radical love is not yet fully embraced.

I can't say I will be able to do much about changing the social structures that make it so difficult to address issues of race, poverty, illness and education. My work is usually person to person, without really ever knowing if there will be another opportunity to meet. To do more than that is hard to wrap my thinking around, with resources in short supply. Still, over the past months, I see the persistent cycles and the persistent efforts to affect poverty and violence. No real wisdom from me on these subjects today, just lots of wondering.

As I drove out of the neighborhood, there, in a small patch of shade sat Issac....Issac,dripping with sweat, seated on the parched grass, wearing his heavy sweater and long blue pants.....looking to the sky, making the sign of the cross, talking with someone I could not see but believed was there with him.

Love and Forgiveness, Quite Simply.....

2010-07-27T09:58:00.000-04:00

Out beyond ideas of wrong-doing and right-doing, there is a field. I'll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about. Ideas, language, even the phrase 'each other' doesn't make any sense.

-Rumi

How Good to See You Again

2010-07-27T00:19:00.000-04:00

Ricardo came back to the neighborhood today. I was really excited that I remembered his name and maybe that helped him to feel more welcome. I hope so. Not much more to say than that. There is a prayer service followed by a community lunch on the last Monday of the month. This was my journey into leading Monday services with this community. I was glad to see Ricardo at the service. Truthfully, it helped me to feel more comfortable having Ricardo and others I have come to know from the wintertime. I still don't know what can be done to help Ricardo with his situation, but maybe there will be something. I am hoping that there will be something that will help him get back to his home. I am hoping he will keep coming back and will stay safe in between.

What to do, what to do.......

2010-07-22T18:07:00.000-04:00

I keep remembering a young man named Ricardo. I met him Monday afternoon, as he was waiting his turn in the clothing room. When I asked him how things were going, he seemed distressed....said not really going very well today. Seems he came to Cincinnati on a work detail from Georgia, and when they weren't happy with the quality of his work, he was fired. He hasn't been able to get another job, hasn't been able to get into a shelter, has been living on the street and wants to get back to Georgia, but has no way to do that without finding a job. It's a vicious cycle, I have heard before. Without all your identification documents, you can't get work...without work, you have no money....without proper ID, you can't access the shelter and without money or family nearby, you have to sleep outside. Being present to the story and giving it my full attention doesn't seem like enough. I need to learn more about the community resources. More than giving a fish is really what is needed in the bigger scheme of things....but how?

Love is Not Without Pain

2010-07-21T17:17:00.000-04:00

They used to call it tough love, the kind of love that challenges someone else to get themselves together, that things have gone too far. This seems to be the theme for today.Loving tough and dealing with extremes.....extremes like acting in violence and then blaming the other person, extremes like threatening someone with really big payback for some perceived slight....extremes like finding a way to love someone who is truly mentally ill, who is really difficult to deal with, who pushes at all the rules and boundaries, who is not at all engaging life in a way that invites others into relationships. Extreme living: urban edition, addiction edition, mental health edition, poverty edition...how can love touch this extreme living and guide it into balance, if only in a temporary or as a fresh beginning kind of way?

I believe love can work miracles,just not in a sappy, easy magical kind of way. Love's miracle can touch the extreme by reaching into what is chaotic and surrounding chaos with the safety of boundaries. Call it what you will.....boundaries, expectations, definition, rules....but used with purpose and wisdom, boundaries and expectations help everyone know how to relate to each other in this world, and how better to care for each other and self. So what's the deal with tough love?
Sometimes the rough edges of extreme living can grow bigger in response to generous, helping love...the kind of love that can look like extreme understanding. Sometimes,there can be a love born of a combined understanding and compassion that may not include expectation of some measure of accountability; all very well intentioned.Tough love still gives love, but doesn't take on the responsibility of the other to be the best self they can on this day. Tough love doesn't ignore that challenges can be enormous, and it doesn't take on the work of the other. It is love that takes a stand and says, I am with you, as You (not I) try to live your best life on this day. It is a hard way to love, often misunderstood or blamed....but it is a love that can guide someone to a path of balance from the edges of extreme living. That is today's soapbox issue.

As this day comes to an end, though, I am still thinking about Joe, a man who stopped a couple of us curbside to ask for help in getting back to Bond Hill today. His hands were filled with bags, and the bag filled with food. Joe lost his job, and was now walking home from Walnut Hills with food for his three children.He'd been working since he was 9 years old, he told us.....and though grateful for the help of a local church, he was hurt when a door was slammed in his face as he asked a question. Who knows what that was about....maybe the interaction was misunderstood on both sides, or maybe there was fear.It sounds like something happened that was born of both fear and misunderstanding. I believed Joe when he said he wanted to work, and I believed the tone of fear in his voice as he worried about his kids getting enough to eat. Love is not without pain. A mother struggles to tough love an adult child, a father asks for help to get food to his children. "They are hungry, he said. Please pray for me, that I get work. My name is Joe." It has been a day of encountering a world of extreme hungers. May God's grace bring a shower of soothing, generous love and a storm of tough love to lifes living in the extreme.

Give Us This Day

2010-07-19T19:55:00.000-04:00

This has been a day of listening to stories of pain and isolation, loneliness and grief born of being poor, being mentally ill, being tolerated but not really included in the community. Sitting in an apartment near the top of a public housing high rise, my mind became distracted by the absences and emptiness, distracted by the absence of food, of furniture, of photographs. Together with the woman who makes this space her home, a communion prayer maybe, might have brought a split second of peace, then her mind raced, retelling stories, returning to the past...then a thank you for coming by and a smile. I keep thinking about the visit, wondering and wishing that something in it brought hope into those moments, and sad for the suffering aching, aching, aching in this world.

The Lord's Prayer from New Zealand Book of Prayer
Eternal Spirit,
Earth-maker, Pain-bearer, Life-giver,
Source of all that is and that shall be,
Father and Mother of us all,
Loving God, in whom is heaven:

The hallowing of your name echo through the universe!
The way of your justice be followed by the peoples of the world!
Your heavenly will be done by all created beings!
Your commonwealth of peace and freedom
sustain our hope and come on earth.

With the bread we need for today, feed us.
In the hurts we absorb from one another, forgive us.
In times of temptation and testing, strengthen us.
From trials too great to endure, spare us.
From the grip of all that is evil, free us.

For you reign in the glory of the power that is love,
now and for ever. Amen.

On Love and Neighbors

2010-07-12T23:40:00.000-04:00

Have you ever felt like you were living in a movie...or maybe in a parable? Today felt kind of like that....it seemed like a day with a theme,of brief, chance encounters that all ended with something slipping from one set of fingers into the hands of someone else. Surrounding it all, was yesterday's Gospel, the parable of the Good Samaritan and its' powerful theme "who is my neighbor?" I could practically hear the songs of Mr. Rogers singing a medley of "Won't You Be My Neighbor? and Who Are the People in Your Neighborhood?" as the soundtrack of the movie that was real life today. Who are the people in my neighborhood? As the song goes, "They're the people that you meet when you're walking down the street each day." Brief meetings were the order of the day.

The ride into the city was toasty in the high humidity. Arriving at an early doctor's appointment, I soon was as cool as a cucumber in the high grade institutional air conditioning. Good news replaced anxiety,so I headed to Tuckers in Over the Rhine. And so began a day of grace filled and curious encounters offering some glimpses into being a neighbor to others, and receiving care from neighbors. Settling into my temporary office in a booth near the grille, the new server kept the fresh coffee coming my way while Mr. Tucker prepared breakfasts made to order for the customers. I looked over the Gospel text in preparation for a service later in the day. One quote about showing mercy drew my thoughts to the people I'd been meeting on this day. The medical technician, the server, and the cook all kind, all offering care to a neighbor. Now, I would go out and meet my own.

One neighbor was Bill. I was running across the street to put some more money in the meter when Bill approached me from the park. Bill was looking for help with getting his apartment deposit together. Bill has been hoping to work out a real living situation almost a year now. Having nothing to help him with this issue, I offered him a bottle of water from the trunk of my car. It didn't seem like much to hand a guy living on the street with cancer.
But, it brought a smile, and then Bill was on his way. I went back to the car to get another bottle of water, and I grabbed a blueberry muffin to eat during a meeting that would overlap lunchtime. As I crossed the street, a woman approached me to ask if the church was giving out clothes today. "Sorry, next Monday, I told her." "Well, she said, could I have a muffin?" And my nameless neighbor walked away with the last blueberry muffin from my friend Maggie, and a bottle of water. Now lunch free, I slipped into that noontime meeting to learn it would need to be rescheduled to another day. Chance encounters. Changes in plans. Empty handed, I got into my car and smiled. Sometimes a day in the neighborhood feels like the road to Jericho but today, it was more like having a neighbor drop by for a visit in the kitchen. Grace.

Over-Joyed

2010-07-08T23:25:00.000-04:00

Temperatures are running high here in Cincinnati on my first full week back at work. The sidewalks are sizzling hot; tempers seem short. You know for sure there is air in Cincinnati because smog can be seen hanging over the city. The urban scenes are quite different from thespaces occupying my time this last month.

There has been surgery, recovery in the suburbs, then some time out in the north woods before returning to work. I've learned a lot, about adapting and accepting how physical changes translate into life changes. I've had some moments of wondering what good and meaning comes, if any, from a street ministry like this one. There have been some extremes in questions, emotions and locations! Saturday, for example, I could see through clear, clean water to the very bottom of a stream bed flowing through a lush, green marsh. Come Sunday morning, I could see the boarded up buildings and trash strewn streets at the entrance of Over the Rhine. I wondered about it all, and then the joy came. What is so joyous about ending a time of rest and relaxation in beautiful and peaceful surroundings? The answer is "community".

In community, when someone is missing, something is missing in the community. There is an empty seat, a silence, something changed. Walking into the familiar surroundings of my Sunday church community, I learned that my empty seat was waiting for my return. I was over-joyed to take my place in the familiar sounds and comfortable conversations I'd lived without for the past couple of months. I wasn't really "without"; the community remembered and held my space until I returned. How lovely to have your space held for you in the community, humbling. Whatever anxiety I had about resuming my regular routines evaporated quickly in their kindness.

Anxiety has been a surprising side effect of the last couple of months. Each new step of reentry, from driving, to following directions, to manuevering my luggage has required conscious concentration and creativity, and willingness to ask for help. I'm not one to rest much, but I've learned to welcome the opportunity. I like taking care of my own business, but I've learned that there is amazing grace in sharing the worry,confusion, and need for help with even simple day to day tasks. Returning to my own routine, I wonder, will I be able to? How much will I be able to? It's easy for questions to spin to worry. Taking my seat, it all evaporates and I am over-joyed. But, this experience has been a temporary one, leading to good health and energy. For others, health issues repeat and recycle, like a litany of worry, and lonliness. David is a 32 year old man who lives in a nursing home. Carol is homebound and struggling to accept the physical changes that keep her from her routines and friends. At 29, Susan is struggling with her own health issues, while remaining eager to leave her residence to help others with greater health challenges than her own. Charlie is hanging out near the park, safely away from the flaring tempers and raised voices. He shares his plans for the day and heads off. Their stories spill out during a time of reunion, when a seat saved is again filled. As each catches me up with the goings on of life, I am grateful for the healing touch of their presence to me, glad to be remembered, glad to take my seat in the community.

Over-joyed.

A Brief Summer Hiatus

2010-06-11T10:57:00.000-04:00

Come back for a visit in a few weeks, when I'll have some new material and stories to share........here are some lovely sentiments I've heard most recently offered as a blessing.

Life is short

we do not have too much time to gladden the hearts

of those who travel the way with us.

So be swift to love,

make haste to be kind,

and may the Divine mystery be always with you."

—Henri-Frederic Amiel, Swiss poet/philosopher

Each Day Brings Something New

2010-06-08T20:28:00.000-04:00

Back behind the wheel today. I wouldn't have had the energy to take the bus and do all the transfers; the east-west routes from the suburbs to the city only run during commuter hours. I've been out of my car while recovering from surgery the past few weeks.Today I soloed to my errands at Target and the bank, before heading to an appointment at Kennedy Heights. It was great to have the windows down and the radio up. Amazingly great to just turn the key and head where I needed to be today...and where I wanted to go.

These were all familiar places, seen with a new set of eyes. This time of year, a few weeks can change the entire look of a stand of trees, or a garden. I noticed it most in the vegetable and flower gardens, and in the muddy waters of the Little Miami River.

The river was dark chocolatey today, with a couple of school kids skipping along the sandbars near the Beechmont levee. Spring tulips and lilacs have long given way to wax begonias and primrose blooming today. The greenery is lush, dense and impenetrable. In a couple of days, it will look different still, after the soaking rains expected tonight. Some of those changes might not be so welcome, like thicker poison ivy growing along the fence in my backyard. Maybe though, maybe the rain will bring something to hope for, like new morning glory flowers or pumpkin plants, seeded in beds just a few days ago.

Changes like these seem simplistic when compared to the changes brought by a serious illness or a natural disaster, and nonetheless point to the truth that each day bring something new. While newness sometimes comes in the form of difficult days, these days I am interested watching for changes that inspire possibility and hope. New beginnings....I am hoping for good ones hidden in the difficulty and opportunity that may come on any given day.

Suddenly, Life is Quieter

2010-06-02T14:58:00.000-04:00

I am missing my Monday morning congregation, and the neighborhood connections along Washington Park and friendships at Respite Care. I am missing driving myself to get groceries and driving thru to get a cup of Joe for the commute into the city. Really, what I am missing is that feeling of being in charge of my day to day. I'm off for a month or so, on a medical leave, recovering from a surgery, with every expectation of a great outcome. Still, I am out of my routine and away from many of the people and places who give shape and meaning to my days. My appointment calendar is clear and my feet are up.

In a lot of ways, these days reflect the greater truth, that we really aren't in charge of anything, that each moment is a gift, and the future is more about uncertainty than about anyone being in charge. It's not a terrible place to be, but it's not completely comfortable either. There is that control piece, or is it about having options and choices? Isn't it more comfortable to be able to be spending our time when and where we choose? Who doesn't like that kind of self direction?
These days are different days for me, days when people come to me, instead of my usual itinerant style of being in the community.
Medications, I am finding, can give way to random thinking, mini tweets or bullet points that float through the day between napping and wondering and healing.I'm lucky though, no complaints....I have a very supportive partner and family. I am feeling better everyday. I have a place to live and I have health insurance. There are people at home to help me while I live into the "no" part of my days....no lifting, no driving, no stairs, no bending....and let's face it, if we are open to it, what comes from saying no to some things can be very freeing.

Yes to sitting outside and watching the birds,

yes to enjoying the company of visitors, yes to having someone prepare a meal--yes to things I like to do for others but cannot do right for myself right now, yes to the reminder that we are all created as vulnerable human beings, body, mind, and spirit.

The care giving seat is more familiar and comfortable to me. It comes with a sense of deep appreciation for the privilege of being with someone during a vulnerable time. While I'll admit, I do find it easier to give than receive, there is also a great blessing in receiving the care of others, especially when care is offered with kindness, and according to your need. There is no way to really express how much it means to be treated with respect and kindness when life brings you to uncertain, and scary places.

My thoughts these days turn frequently to stories of illness and hospitalization when I have been on the giving side of care giving. Did I really hear what it was like ill and alone....to be hospitalized without knowing where you will recover because you have no home....to be vulnerable and feel unable to go to your family or friends for the help you need....to have no health insurance or be without transportation....to be completely afraid in the unknowing...Did I really hear your story? Today, I am remembering these stories, counting my blessings and hoping to learn from this experience. It has had none of the harshness experienced by those injured in Haiti or those having cancer while homeless. Still, there are some points of connection in the experience of being vulnerable, in being unable to fully direct one's own life and in receiving the care offered by others. Perhaps this is the reason Jesus said "blessed are". Indeed, blessed are the care givers for the homeless and sick at Respite Care for the Homeless and Barbara McInnis House; blessed is the homeless man who helps a street friend get the right bus to the hospital; blessed is the nurse who assured me I would be well cared for while under anesthesia. Blessed are they who comfort and heal, who know that sometimes an outreached hand is the best outreach of all. These are like a pebble in a pool of water, extending comfort and mercy out into the world.

God's Holy Spirit Breaking Through

2010-05-24T10:45:00.000-04:00

Nostalgia.....sometimes it seems to grip me. Yesterday was one of those times and the meaning in memories was kind of surprising to me. Pentecost Sunday, the birthday of the Christian church, when believers so afraid gathered together in a secret upper room to hide from those who might come after them for their relationship with Jesus, now executed. The doors sealed shut only to be blown open by the breathe of God's Holy Spirit. Tongues of fire descended upon them and there was understanding of the different languages spoken there. My nostalgia was rooted in recalling my confirmation day, on Pentecost Sunday almost 50 years ago. Back then, we were told we were soldiers in Christ's army, and we had the special white and red robes to prove it! A catechism defined the important questions, like "Who is God?" and the correct answers, " God is the Supreme Being, Who made all things." At 7 years old, maybe that wasn't such a bad starting point. As I have matured into a seasoned adult, I find my questions multiplying and the answers not all that clear. Today my questions have to do with things like, "why is it so hard for authorities to move quickly in crisis?" This question comes after hearing about the massive oil spill damage to the ecosystem in the Gulf of Mexico. Why are people still living outside in Haiti? Why homelessness and hunger? On an internal level, I am wondering why some people are very much in touch with inner longings and others see life through different glasses? Why do some live with profound spiritual loneliness while others seem to feel connected in this life?

It all can become quite overwhelming. What saves me from becoming all to serious are those moments when God's Holy Spirit breaks through. Sometimes it is hilarious. Sometimes, poignant. Always, needed. Have you had the experience, when your mind is distracted by an issue or a problem only to be suddenly interrupted by a moment of pure delight? Take this example, that happened to me this morning.
Driving along the Ohio River this morning required multitasking galore. Thick fog, morning traffic, muddy waters running high and a mind distracted by a jam packed schedule and the anxiety that can come as a package deal. A few miles further east, there is no one on the road, when suddenly a young deer crosses to get to the water.

Sometimes a deer will go back and forth across the road, ultimately getting hit by a driver that can't read the mind of a deer! Today, this deer stayed true to her compass. To the water, with a route crossing the grill of my car, but just barely without collision.I was able to come to a complete stop and look her right in the eye, then the tail as she leaped over the brush to the riverbank.
My training is to evade, steer around and even hit the deer if necessary to maintain control of the car. Today, a leaping deer interrupted a distracted mind and brought a moment of delight in her beauty. That pause, for me, is a moment of grace and peace. God's Holy Spirit breaking through into the places in life that need a moment or reflection, of redemption, of grace and peace.

Less than a mile down the road, I spotted a box turtle stopped at the white line that separates the shoulder lane from the rest of the roadway. Turtles cross the road slowly and this one seemed to be , well, kind of looking both ways before proceeding. Her head was super extended from the shell, lifted high. It was a unique display of turtledom. Another moment of delight bursting into a distracted kind of day.
When something changes a scene in this life in the way of a sudden wind or the flicker of a flame, when something brings a new way of seeing or hearing, those are the times I experience as God's Holy Spirit breaking through, a kind of Pentecost .....like an exchange when someone asks me, "How are your children?"....when a reporter tells how a community on the gulf is trying to clean oil off of helpless animals....when someone throws a spaghetti supper to help a stranger with the expense of cancer treatment, when someone's heart is softened of prejudice. Some name it the milk of human kindness. It is. Some name it serendipity, even coincidence. It is. I love these moments of surprise. They are, for me, God's Holy Spirit breaking through into this world.

Live and Let Live

2010-05-20T10:54:00.000-04:00

After days of rain, today is the kind of day that invites you to get out in nature. Out in the Cincinnati suburbs, there is a lot of action with birds nesting and finding food for the young ones, and bees crossing from tree to tree. Sweet chirps fill the air.

Downtown, people are talking about another act of violence on a homeless man. Two on one, kicking and beating him seemingly for walking down the same street. No one really knows what triggered this attack. It leaves you wondering, what's going on? Is this hate? boredom, nothing better to do? random? Why is it that what moves one person to violence moves another to compassion or leaves another with indifference?

The morning after, do the attackers know what this was all about? The community wants to know why and wants everyone to have the freedom to walk the streets in peace.

It's a Beautiful Day, Don't Let It Slip Away

2010-05-15T14:10:00.000-04:00

Split Second

2010-05-14T21:37:00.000-04:00

A friend of the Respite Center died unexpectedly this week, and a plan was made for a memorial service this afternoon. Arriving in Avondale a little bit early, I decided to drive around a few blocks that I hadn't seen before.Avondale is an area of many mansions....built in Cincinnati's heyday, now they mark a neighborhood struggling with poverty. Driving through this neighborhood, I am struck with so many images...children walking in long lines from the school to the playground. On a telephone pole, a sign offering a reward for information leading to the shooter who killed Charlie. When I round the block, there is another sign and another. Then, I stop at a red light, waiting, when I heard the honking of a horn behind me. We all know about road rage, and sometimes it's just better to stay calm and not get into things with an impatient driver. I moved a little to the left to let the car go by when the driver began to rolldown the window.

For a split second I worried as a hand came out the window. Then, she flashed a peace sign and drove off. A peace sign...., not just one finger, but two-a peace sign! Well, I laughed and imagined the peace sign as a trendy replacement for the one finger salute. Nail polish could be a nice touch!

Green light, I turned to the left and went on to a memorial service at Respite Care. Steve passed away earlier in the week. He'd been a loyal and committed friend, had a great sense of humor, and already he was deeply missed. Rest in peace, Steve. Your life meant a lot to those who knew you, you were a treasure. So was Charlie. I hope his family can find out more about what happened to him.
A split second can changes everything....a sudden death by illness, the pop of a gun, a peace sign flashed at a traffic light, or that split second smile or "I love you". The power of a split second. It can change everything.

Reflections: Listening deeply to another – without an agenda – expands our consciousness | The Portland Press Herald / Maine Sunday Telegram

2010-05-14T20:15:00.000-04:00

Reflections: Listening deeply to another – without an agenda – expands our consciousness The Portland Press Herald / Maine Sunday Telegram

Street ministry serves spiritual needs of city’s homeless | The Forecaster

2010-05-14T20:09:00.001-04:00

Street ministry serves spiritual needs of city’s homeless | The Forecaster

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Touching Moments on the Sidewalk

2010-05-10T17:09:00.000-04:00

My mind was traveling to my next stop when I spotted Micah. There he was at the corner of Sycamore and Liberty, wearing his heavy navy blue down coat on this warm spring day. I stopped for the red light, and he crossed the street lost in his own thoughts, with his face turned toward the pavement. When he reached the other side, he knelt down at the light post, made the sign of the cross, folded his hands and seemed to be praying. I wondered what was on his heart, what was on his mind, what he might have been hearing. It seemed like a holy moment more than a moment of disturbance. He seemed connected to someone or something. The light changed and I went on my way to Washington Park, but part of me wanted to u-turn and kneel down with Micah.
One parking space left on Race near 12th. I pulled in. There on a nearby park bench was Jimmy. I met Jimmy a few months ago when he was recovering from cancer treatments and staying in a nursing facility. He was eager to get into his own place, and was on the way when something must have gone off track. Just last week, I bumped into him in town. He's on the street, staying at a shelter and still hoping to get a place. Jimmy yelled to me from the bench, "didn't I just see you a few days ago?" Hey, how's it going today, I call back.
I almost go over, but I've got an 11:30 service to get to and it is now, well, 11:30....I ask him if he wants to come. "No, not me....but pray for me, would you? I've got cancer, you know."
I will and I do. When I see him later, I tell him and he says, "God bless you". God bless you, too, Jimmy.
Micah and Jimmy, in a moment on the sidewalk. May God bless them and help me to know when to change my path and kneel on the sidewalk and when to drive on into the days plans. Sometimes, it's really hard to know......

Of Mothers and Muddy Waters

2010-05-08T21:14:00.000-04:00

The Ohio River winds through the Appalachian mountains on its way to Cincinnati, pulling all kinds of sand, silt and soil along the way. It's like a show of sorts; you never really know for sure what will float by. Leaves and logs make up most of the the regatta floating generally winding east and south from Pennsylvania and to the Mississippi River. Most of the week, these waters looked like a river of chocolate moving between the foothills that bookmark Cincinnati. A big rain and some wind changed things up overnight. Driving over the double span between Ohio and Kentucky on 275, I couldn't help but think how the river looked like a big flow of cappuccino, a pretty shade of milky brown, not quite tan, not quite espresso. Although nothing like the sparkling Colorado waters that makes a perfect Coors beer, the river has its own beauty and charm.
Here in the city, the banks are spotted with homeless camps, tents, plastic tarps hidden in the brush. With high water like we have today, these need careful monitoring lest they float away in a cresting river.

It's not just being homeless that brings a person to live by the river. Things happen in life that only solitude and independence can heal. While this is not everyone's story, it is a frequent one, especially for veterans and others who grew up with an appreciation for the outdoors.

Crossing the bridge, I was thinking about the folks along the river, with my mind wandering to Mother's Day. It's a special day to be sure, but it can be a difficult day, too. Years ago I met a woman at a Boston shelter under these kind of circumstances. She was about to get her pink slip because her agitation was being taken out on others at the shelter. She just wouldn't or couldn't stop poking at the other women. At some point, she slipped one small reference that opened up her issue into an important part of her story. Mother's Day was approaching and she was separated from her children. She mothered as best she could, but her mental illness left her with significantly diminished capacity. The state took her children into protective care. Mother's day, she would not see them or be able to communicate with them. With the story shared, she went on to dinner and stayed the night in a safe place. From Linda, I learned that holidays are not like Hallmark cards for everyone. From Linda, I learned that careful listening can sometimes reveal the thorn in the lion's paw. That's a useful lesson any day, any place.

Beauty and Peace and Changing Seasons

2010-05-03T23:11:00.000-04:00

Sometimes you need to take a breath, focus on the good and take the time to smell the roses.......

The seasons are changing and life on the street is bursting with energy. Some folks move to camps along the river or in the forest. Some stay in the neighborhood, and are much more visible in the parks and street corners. When summer approaches and the temperature rises, sometimes outside is the place to cool off. The old buildings in Over the Rhine can really hold the heat. Not much breeze can get through the density of the buildings in the city core. So, people hang outside, filling the neighborhood with electric energy. The seasons are changing.

It's a good time for this chaplain to deal with some of the practical realities of life, like recharging the emotional batteries, and working a method for funding this ministry.

Summer is a great time for networking with others in the field and tilling the field my backyard as a vegetable garden. It's also a great time for launching the "worker" piece of this ministry.

Points of Connection has a component for raising its own funding through entrepreneurship.

The seasons are changing. Pastoral presence will continue through the summer in our institutional locations,while entrepreneurship begins in the form of a small cottage industry.
While this all unfolds, it's important to remember to take time to stop and smell the roses along the way.

Remembrance and Reality

2010-05-03T00:29:00.000-04:00

It's a tough story to retell-it happened a year ago-a story of a young mother with an infant son, trying to escape a relationship turned violent. She was a few hours away from leaving town when he burst into her apartment in a rage, with a gun in his hand. Seconds later, he fled the scene, leaving the woman, her child and a three year old girl dead on the floor. She had a restraining order in place; he'd raped her the day before only to come back to silence her as she prepared to escape to a new life in a different city. Jailed since that day, he was convicted of their murders this week. Sentencing has yet to occur.

The crime scene was just blocks from the School for the Performing Arts, just blocks from the corner where another woman was caught in the crossfire in a drive by the week before, blocks from the playground and Main Street.

A few days later, complete strangers gathered with their family and friends-stunned, grief stricken, disbelieving at an act so violent and cruel. http://www.wlwt.com/video/19720351/index.html A year later, the same truth remains....gone forever are a young mother, an infant son, a three year old daughter of a friend. Each was beloved by family, by neighbors, friends, community who will now live without them, never to know what each would become, or contribute, or be. Lost too in a young man who chose a permanent solution to a situation filled with other choices.

It's hard to forget that night when the sidewalk was filled with palpable grief, marked with simple offerings of compassion and love like teddy bears, balloons, candles and cards. As the prayer ended, the chaplain blessed the entryway with holy water and prayed while the candles burned with remembrance. A year has gone since that night in Pendleton. Gone forever are Noelle Washington 19, nine month old Anthony Jones III, three year old Shay Shay Wright. Lost too is 20 year old Mark Pickens, now waiting to hear his penalty for an irretrievable moment of rage. The community remembers that something happened near Broadway and East 13th, something that has changed life forever. Noelle, Anthony and Shay Shay, you are remembered. You were here.

Shay Shay Noelle and Anthony

48 people died of domestic violence in Cincinnati between 1997 and 2006. 94 percent of the victims were female, 77 percent were either separated or considering separation from their partner at the time of their death, and 43 percent died of a gunshot wound fired by their spouses.

It's Just Not That Simple

2010-04-28T21:05:00.000-04:00

Imagine coping with a cancer diagnosis without the worry about financing the treatment. Because Joe is a veteran, he knows he can bring his medical concerns to the nearest VA Hospital and he will be helped. So, when Joe wasn't feeling right, he trucked over to the Cincinnati VA and got his prostate checked out. Now, he's in his treatment cycle and doing great....Cancer is scary business, and Joe is glad that one big worry is checked off his list. He will be treated for his disease. At the same time, he knows plenty of guys who didn't feel good, had the same "urinary frequency" but were without health insurance. No way to pay translated to letting enough time pass that a slow moving cancer like prostate cancer has a chance to grow, spread and steal their lifespan. Prostate cancer is treatable; it shouldn't be deadly. He just shakes his head naming friends who have gotten back on their feet from homelessness, only to have some treatable medical issue overwhelm them. Joe can already see and feel the results of his treatments.
He's hoping to live without cancer for a long long time to come....and hoping that no more people will become sicker because they homeless and poor.
Veterans are a special kind of people....always thinking about the other guy. Joe is one of this kind. A veteran soldier of Desert Storm, he's been spending a lot of time at the VA Hospital. No one would blame him if he kept his focus on his own health needs, but not Joe. He is concerned about the young soldiers coming our of Iraq, struggling to cope with the sequence of tours and the complex injuries, loss of limbs, disfigurements and psychological trauma which is unparalleled. So hard for them and their families to assimilate back into day to day life in the US. Joe has a lot of compassion and feels a lot of gratitude in his own challenging situation. His knowledge about the practical realities of poverty, homelessness and war could teach a lot about compassion as well as helping providers to understand the complexities in life situations like these. From what Joe said, it sounds like his doc brings a lot of students on rounds. Hope they tune in to two great teachers.

The Duty of Delight

2010-04-25T20:47:00.000-04:00

Dorothy Day speaks of the duty of delight.....isn't that a wonderful kind of duty? Delight is about discovery, surprise, wonder, beauty, investigation....delight is a kind of synonym for that time in childhood when a little one first discovers something new and then repeats it over and over and over.
Each time seems to be as delightful and fun as the very first. Delight! I watched a toddler this morning taking steps newly learned up a long church aisle, only to be scooped up in her dad's arms and returned to her starting place again and again. She didn't seem to mind; each trip had its' own pleasures, people to meet, sounds to take in. Her face showed second by second delight. She absolutely delighted, as she peeked up pew by pew, smiling silently, making connections in her own way with all these grown up strangers. Outside the doors of this place, the streets are pretty tough and it is easy to become so dutiful in helping that DELIGHT is left behind. Just as God is present in the sufferings of life so God blesses people with delightful moments to savor and enjoy. The duty of delight.....Amen.

R_E_S_P_E_C_T

2010-04-25T15:37:00.000-04:00

find out what it means to me.....is that how the song goes? Just a little respect. Cincinnati authorities are telling us that respect might well be part of the solution to the violence on the streets of this city. They are hearing that a moment of feeling disrespected can push an argument to a tipping point with a permanent result: gun violence. There has been a lot of reactive violence this spring....the kind of situation where something gets heated up and a gun ends the discussion....To be sure, some of the violence has been pay back, drug related, some kind of warning. When you look into the stories, some seem very random, wrong place, wrong time. Others are domestic violence situations happening between people who once were very close. Now we are hearing that the snap can happen in a moment when feeling disrespected weighs out a little heavier than feeling in control.

What is it, that if we only knew, would influence someone to leave the gun out of the situation, let temporary problems work themselves out, take a hike, step back, live and let live? On the street, it may begin with interpersonal respect but the lure of drugs, need for education and meaningful work, poverty and ......these all pull and stretch and challenge our steps forward in building peaceful and sustainable communities. A spring of violence like we have seen in Cincinnati can erode our collective confidence that we can have thriving, diverse and peaceful communities in our city core. Truth be told, violence can happen anywhere there is a breakdown in relationship, or expectation. It travels beyond the city limits, in our rural areas, the burbs and our workplaces. Mother Teresa counsels about responding to overwhelming problems by "doing small things with great love". If disrespect is a trigger in violence, could infusing respect into our day to day interactions support reasonable reactions during interpersonal conflict?What would that look like? Most of us interact in smaller circles of neighbors and friends in addition to the day to day intersections during our errands, travel, social engagements and the like.

There is a common saying that may provide some guidance...... "Years from now, people won't remember what you did, but they will remember how you made them feel." R-E-S-P-E-C-T........live it and give it wherever you make your points of connection.

Wondering and Wandering

2010-04-23T12:01:00.000-04:00

It's a rainy day today, the kind of day that invites reflection from the inside out. For what it's worth, you are welcome to wander along with me. There is a lot of chat these days about the great divide, or polarity extreme....a conversation about politics or religion easily becomes heated and it can be hard to find open hearts willing to participate and listen in real dialogue. In a way, it makes perfect sense that opinions are deeply held; perhaps the power of the strongly held opinion is that need we all have to feel understood and heard. However difficult it may be to really listen, listening seems to be the real key to being heard. In the words of Alanis Morrissette, "isn't it ironic?"

Well, for all the people who seem to be so sure of what is the truth, others can be found seeing life in shades of grey. These are people wondering about the meaning of life in these times and where life is heading. Some days, I feel that way, like Charlie Brown, wondering.....What is this really all about? Like Charlie, I try to stay in the football game, fumbling my way through living in the questions. Faith is what keeps me in the mix and this prayer offered by Thomas Merton keeps it comfortable to be living with the grey.....though the grey hair may be a different story:)

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.

I do not see the road ahead of me.

I cannot know for certain where it will end.

Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.

But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.

And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.

I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.

And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it.

Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.

I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

Amen

- Thomas Merton, "Thoughts in Solitude"

Twists and Turns

2010-04-21T09:35:00.000-04:00

Tuesday morning started early; I was so hoping to see the space shuttle Discovery fly over the house in a blaze of orange, with two sonic booms pushing it on its' way to a Florida landing. The weather shifted and Discovery took another lap around the earth, with a tweak to the path and bye bye to flying over Cincinnati. No sonic boom.Cincinnati,no orange ball across the sky.....

Fortunately, there was some Dunkin Donuts coffee in the house to ease the disappointment. But really, who can be unhappy with a safe landing in Florida, albeit via Oklahoma airspace? As my dad used to say, " Life is just that way."
Twists and turns, changing paths, last minute adjustments. Life is just that way. Days like this one begin with a redirection that seems to continue all day long, saved only if the attitude adjustment function is ready and willing. I have to admit, my attitude adjustments can be inconsistent. Sometimes, I welcome the unexpected and can make it an adventure. Other times, it is hard to let go of what was planned. I want to have life "my way". Sometimes that kind of thinking can take the wind out of the very best, "not following the script" kind of day. Attitude makes a difference.
In the day to day of homelessness, keeping a positive attitude and staying focused are key to putting the pieces in place for a new way of life. Bob taught me this as he shared his inventory of the day. Bob starts listing all he is grateful for, keeping a tremendous appreciation for even the smallest kindnesses. Setbacks are kept in the situation pile; these are things to tackle faithfully the next day. Strategies like these may lead Bob to his prize, his own studio apartment closer to his job. He seems to keep a sense of peace and hope through the twists and turns of his life. Attitude keeps Bob going so that "when life is just that way" setbacks don't become offtracks and sleep is not filled with worry.

Micah

2010-04-19T21:14:00.000-04:00

There he was.....I had been wondering about Micah for awhile. It's been months since I'd seen him and I wondered if maybe he was in the hospital or someplace outside the neighborhood. Then, I saw him over at the corner store near Liberty and Broadway. He was over by the dumpster going through all his bags as if he was looking for something. Micah can get a thought in his mind and be unable to let it go. There have been times when he seems to be in conversation with voices or images that the rest of us do not see.

Maybe Micah was looking for something;maybe he just needed to be going through his bags. I wonder where he has been.
Whenever I am around Micah, I just want to cry and sometimes I do. He seems to connect with the meaning in his experiences in the deepest of ways.When it is communion time at church, everyone walks in line but one. Micah makes the long way to the altar on his knees as his voice quietly chants his prayer with an occasional "mercy" pitching above the other words. Hands folded, head bowed. Such a simple holiness and beauty radiate from this soul. Yet, there are things which seem painfully disconnected. Micah is always dressed for winter. Could he be trying to hold onto his belongings by wearing them? Maybe his coat helps him to feel safe and secure? Protcting his body from cold and wind does not seem to influence the wearing of this down jacket. On the hottest of days,sweat pours from his forehead, making me wonder if he will become so overheated that he would become ill. He is grateful for a bottle of water, but instead of drinking it or pouring it on his hot skin, he puts it in he bag for later. Taking my hands, Micah kisses them and from memory quotes a scripture about love and mercy. Sweat drops from his brow to our hands now clasped together. He is so gracious in his reply, so very in the moment. When I see Micah, I cry for joy at the beauty of his soul, but I cry with worry about him with my own thoughts about what would be best for him. Although he seems happy enough, but I wonder if he can keep himself safe as he moves around the neighborhood alone.Today I happened to drive west on Liberty Street. There, I saw Micah and it was good to see his face.

Going back to the country.....

2010-04-18T09:34:00.000-04:00

Shelters are less full when the weather gets better. Some who are homeless long term will choose the freedom that comes with sleeping outside over sheltering inside. Each has his or her own reasons. It reminds me a bit of the retiree who lives in Maine or Ontario, but winters in Florida or Arizona, but with some obvious differences. Maybe the transient life has a personality of its own.Today, I am thinking of the people I met this winter who have hit the road. Some are out there in search of a better opportunity, maybe reconnecting with family far away, or getting some work. Bob was hoping to get welding work down on the Gulf. Peter had an offer to work with his family in Montana, but he didn't want to be so far from his sons. Some will hold onto the dream of starting someplace new, but it doesn't come about. The travel is always out there on the horizon, something imminent yet delayed. For others, there is a seasonal way of life. Just like the Florida "snow bird" enjoys connecting with fishing, seasonal friends, and a different environment, so some transient homeless also look forward to getting set up along the Ohio river or out in the back country of Indiana. They will fish, and maybe grow a few things until the weather gets cold again. This is their rhythm of life. As summer comes, I notice faces missing from the cityscape. I hope each is finding what they need for this season, wherever they may be.

Candy connection part 2

2010-04-15T10:13:00.000-04:00

Years ago, when Stone Soup was rolling out on the streets in Boston, some would call me the "Soup Lady". Now, one of my nicknames is "Candy Lady". There are a lot of places to get a bowl of soup in Cincinnati, so, with apologies to dentists and dieticians, the menu is switching to candy. It was not exactly my own idea though. I had heard about a wonderful hospital chaplain who carried Hershey kisses in his coat pocket. Have you ever heard this expression, "Years from now, people won't remember what you did, they'll remember how you made them feel"? His version of pastoral care with a hint of chocolate really made a long lasting impression on those he served. We all long to feel that connection with someone, don't we? That feeling of being the only person in the room...that feeling of being heard and cared for? For the homeless and those in institutional care, this can be a particular yearning born of life experiences of abandonment, isolation, and a host of other possible issues.

Some learn it's safer to just trust yourself....and therein lies the dance of longing for and shrugging from connectedness with others. How to gain an invitation, how to begin a place of relationship can be a delicate situation. The loneliness can run very deep. How to be present to needs like these, without bringing harm....that is a constant challenge in all caring service. Well...... people are still talking about getting a piece of chocolate from the priest-chaplain.....so "Father, forgive me. I have stolen your idea."

One cold, drizzly morning intown, I could hear loud voices near the bus stop at 12th and Race St. There was a small group of men standing at the corner, and one woman sitting on a piece of cold stone nearby. Plastic grocery bags to her left, she was wearing thin Tinkerbell pajama bottoms and a zip up sweatshirt, with flip flops on her feet. Some kind of exchange was in play between her and these men; it was escalating into name calling, one upping, who said? what the? And then there I was in front of Debbie. "Hi....kind of a cold one we've got today....how's your day going?" We exchanged introductions and I learned that her clothing was in the bags. A night of drinking led to heaves led to changing into pajamas and waiting for the bus. Then another side comment to the men, poking, provoking........and then a shift in the subject interrupts the escalation.

"Would you like a lollipop and some mints?" "I have four kids at home, could I take some to them?" And the conversation switched to kids names, what they are like, what's going on for the rest of the day.....then the bus comes, doors open and her figure goes inside carrying many plastic bags tied off at the top. I quickly pray that she will be safe, and her children well. And that was that. Some would say Debbie needs a lot more than candy, and that is no doubt true. In this time and place on one chilly Monday morning, this is just one brief exchange, a presence, an interruption, and perhaps a moment's peace...who among us doesn't need that from time to time?

Making a pastoral presence among people on the street is
not a full solution to the complex issues of each individual life.
Rather, it is a momentary offering of love and care and an opportunity to sow seeds of connection.

Candy connections

2010-04-13T20:49:00.000-04:00

In the distance, I could see a figure hunched over a grocery shopping cart filled to overflowing with small plastic bags tied of at the tops. A bag lady, I thought. She was really bundled up, wearing a rain poncho with a zip up sweatshirt underneath and the hoods tied tightly at the chin. Only a small circle of face was left showing. White. After rearranging the bags in the cart, she sat down on a wet park bench on Vine Street. Reminded me of Natasha, one of the first bag ladies I ever met. She was a regular figure on the stoop at Boston's Rosie's Place. There she would sit, surrounded by bags, with her face peeking out from a babushka or a hooded jacket tied under her chin.
As I walked by this little courtyard, I could see the park bench was now occupied, there was no eye contact made and I kept going. Rounding the block, I wondered to myself why I hadn't actually stopped to say hello. If she is still there when I go past, I'll stop and at least do that.
She was staring off into space while a very light rain misted. It was cold and I had my collar up high. Of course, as ususal, I had forgotten my hat. Approaching, I started to unzip my waist pack...Hello, I'm Bea. How are you doing today? "Good". I've got some peppermints....would you like some? "Sure". Handing over a fistful of candy, I asked, What's your name?
"John"
Well, John, nice to meet you....I hope you have a good day. Be careful out here.
And that was that....
The bench was pretty wet, so I didn't sit down. Later, I wondered why I didn't stay a little longer.
Another loop around the block and John had gone on his way.

Appalachian Spring

2010-04-11T22:28:00.000-04:00

Living right on the edge of the eastern time zone has its' advantages....like being able to work outside in daylight until 8:30 pm in April! In my opinion, springtime is the best time of year in Southern Ohio. The foothills of the Appalachian mountains and the winding Ohio River give way to amazing outcrops with cedar green, then that really pale light green of new leafings. In between, randomly, are bushes with lovely lavender or white blossoms, interspersed with the brilliant yellow of forsythia.

An occasional dogwood or cherry blossom slips in, creating a visual of Aaron Copeland's "Appalachian Spring" suite. Nature creates the very image of renewal, of new beginnings. Allergies are making it a challenge to be out in the springtime this year, but the evening give some relief from the coughing and wheezing so this gardener can get into the dirt.

Each new garden touches on memories and new possibilities. The dogwood tree in my backyard reminds takes me back to memories of childhood travels from Maine winter to Connecticut spring with the joy of pulling up to my grandmother's house and the cherry pink blossoms of dogwood. The peonies are coming up, though the buds look black, with ants which surprisingly are needed if the blossoms are to emerge. Nature has a way of handling everything! Tonight, I was able to relocate some

mosses and plant two pussy willow bushes. My mom used to get bunches of these silvery pink buds, plucked from the marshy places in a neighbors backyard. Now, there will be some bushes soaking up the watery places from my backyard. It's great to get into the dirt, with Sadie the dog watching from underneath the dogwood tree.

The people that you meet each day

2010-04-09T09:23:00.000-04:00

Do people still recognize the name Mr.Rogers, from the PBS series, Mr. Rogers Neighborhood? He had this great song starting off with "Who are the people in your neighborhood?" The people in the neighborhood of Over the Rhine are changing everyday. New upscale condos woven in with abandoned buildings, social services and businesses. Walking down the street in this neighborhood, you will encounter a lot of diversity. While it is easy to tag people with labels like "professional", " low income", " homeless", many labels are about life situations, not true descriptions of who a person really is. It is easy to make assumptions, but worth the commitment to take time to get to know people and learn who they really are. This past winter it didn't take long for me to learn how easy it is these days for someone to slip into homelessness. Used to be that homelessness correlated strongly with addictions,mental illness and with deinstitutionalization. Still true, but many stories of homelessness today also include job loss, fire, major illness and divorce. I can remember meeting many women who became homeless after a divorce, but it was new to me to encounter men who lost a job and relationship, then spiraled into homelessness.....it was new to me to hear stories of divorced fathers working day labor, trying to send child support and pull together enough of a lumpsum to get an apartment. Some were going job to job, others got downsized from union jobs, journeymen, welders...The stigma of homelessness is enormous, with story upon story of people who can't bring themselves to call family for a place to bunk while getting their lives back together. One guy, Joe, told me how he'd just moved into a new apartment when a fire took everything. He's back at starting over, working day labor, sleeping in a shelter. Joe is saving his money for first month rent, and security deposit to get a new place. Among the homeless, there are still many people who are really burned out from hard living and addictions, struggling with voices in their minds who will not stop crushing them. Mixed in among those labeled homeless are people whose lives look a lot like mine, until they came to a different intersection and the cards came tumbling down. Some will remark that the homeless just need to pull themselves up by their own bootstraps. Many are doing just that, day by day.

Interstate 75 north, Detroit exit

2010-04-07T08:54:00.000-04:00

http://detnews.com/article/20100404/OPINION03/4040302/1409/Friar-sings-in-the-suburbs-to-keep-Detroit-homeless-center-running

Brother Al Mascia was living at the Cincinnati community at Liberty and Vine a few years ago, advocating for the needs of those with less and promoting understanding of the deepest elements we all hold in common as humans. He'd probably say, " I poured a few cups of coffee and heard some great stories", though others felt the impact of his presence in deeper ways. It is always a pleasure to have a chance to chat with Al. He is the kind of listener who leaves you feeling like you are the only person in the room, giving each one his full attention. As you can see from this piece, Al has a gift for giving voice to the needs and longings we all feel as human beings. In doing so, there is this sense of equality and balance that is often difficult to find in the world of haves and have nots. We all need the same love and connection, dignity and welcome.We all are walking the same road together, or as my grandfather would have put it: we all put our pants on one leg at a time. Not above or below another person; all equal, unique and the same. A little myterious, right? As Al says,the Canticle Cafe in Detroit is a place to come right in and be at home. Guess what? There is one in Cincinnati, too......right at the corner of Liberty and Vine.

Easter is a 50 day season

2010-04-04T23:33:00.000-04:00

Hello from Washington DC, where cherry blossoms and tulips herald springtime and renewal.The streets are teaming with people from all over the world, with the sounds of different languages that comes with diversity. It is wonderful,so interesting and alive. At the Cathedral of St. Matthew, the evening services were overflowing to standing room and alleluias resonated off the mosaics and out to the city streets. People connect with their spirituality in diverse places and through the unique experiences which touch their hearts. I hope that you found a place or a connection today that gave you life and hope and peace. For me, the story of an empty tomb and Easter morning is a great relief in the face of all of the passion and trouble in the world today. Whether your church is outside, in a community or a place in your heart, I hope that today is an Easter Day for you.

Liberty and Vine

2010-04-01T13:18:00.000-04:00

The corner of Liberty and Vine is a place where many connections happen everyday. St. Francis Seraph Catholic Church has been at this location for 150 years, part of St. Francis Seraph ministries, elementary school, soup kitchen, Sarah Center, Canticle Cafe, and Friary. Some folks are from the neighborhood and others drive a long distance to be there. This is an intentional community; once you've come inside these doors, you feel right at home.
In the spirit of St. Francis and St. Clare, this community has faithful to the ongoing efforts to promote peace and good in the neighborhood. There are some creative programs here, combining responses to immediate needs with an eye for supporting strong communities for the future. The Sarah Center, for example, creates community among neighborhood women, while creating self employment opportunities through teaching craft skills and marketing. At the Canticle Cafe, street folks can find a place to warm up, dry off and have a cup o joe. From the same space, volunteers prepare and deliver bag lunches to folks working day labor. Day laborers trying to break out of homelessness preserve more of their earnings as well as their health this way; they often get home too late to access a food pantry of kitchen. The faithful presence of the Friars and the parish are strong connections in the neighborhood; people trust this community and also rely upon it as a spiritual hub and sanctuary during the ups and downs of daily life in Over the Rhine.
For a lot of people in the neighborhood, these are times that wear at the spirit. Money is tight. Jobs are scarce. The streets seem to be eating their young, our young, as guns and drugs lead the them away from a purposeful life driven by school and work. Day and night, these struggles crisscross the corner of Liberty and Vine, while the generations of faith grounded at that intersection give testimony to the power of love to transform.....this is a firey, brilliant love strong enough to roll a stone away from a tomb, powerful enough to change death to life, to break into darkness with warmth and light like an Easter fire, like an Easter sunrise.
When the Easter triduum turns to the Easter vigil celebration, flames will pierce the night sky from the corner of Liberty and Vine, inviting us to roll back the stones that hold us to our burdens and old ways, inviting us to come into the light. The Easter fire begins about 8 pm.......moving inside for the vigil about 8:45. You know the address.........

A Mouthful of "Wishers"

2010-03-31T19:12:00.000-04:00

Driving to Avondale today, I couldn't help but think about the three people injured in a shooting last night, wondering how they are today, why this happened and when things will become more peaceful again. I have been spending one morning a week in Avondale for the past year, and I am still learning about this community. Avondale is such an interesting mix of residential neighborhoods with houses, apartment buildings and even old mansions. Block by block, there is a sense of history in the architecture and I often wish the houses could talk and say what they have seen. When I am in Avondale, I feel like I am in a separate city all its own. Maybe it's the feeling of a newcomer still learning the streets; maybe this is a separate city within the larger city of Cincinnati. As I take in the street scene, images jump out at me as I make my way to Washington Street and the Center for Respite Care. A telephone pole clothed in memorial teddy bears for a child killed in a shooting last year...children skipping and jumping on an asphalt playground at their neighborhood school...young men hanging out at the town center...city blocks mixed with housing, churches, protest signs, healthcare clinics, boarded buildings....it's a place where you can hear the sounds of children at play by day and the sounds of gunfire, no longer reserved for night. There is a lot of energy for the good in Avondale, and plenty of street trouble chipping away at people just trying to make a life for their families.

What does this all have to do with a mouthful of "wishers"? As I was getting ready to head out from Respite Care after a lovely morning of Easter egg coloring, hope came in the form of a mouthful of "wishers".

There on a broken fence covered in greening vines were two young English wrens. At least, that is how one of the nurses identified them. Arrayed in shades of brown and tan, these little birds were giving shape to a new nest up under the eaves on a boarded up building. Flying back and forth with sprigs and twigs until one of them paused across from my windshield. Turning for a moment, the bird appeared to suddenly sport a large white handlebar mustache, for there in its beak was the large fluffy seed of a milkweed, a "wisher". Looking much like the wizard from Judy Garland's Wizard of Oz movie, or perhaps like an elderly Gene Shalit, there was this little beauty of nature mustachioed by a "wisher". Probably this wisher will make a soft resting place for some little bird eggs yet to be laid. Today, it was a costume for a brown feathered bird providing much needed entertainment and joy to an inner city neighborhood searching for some peace.

Monday, Monday

2010-03-29T14:48:00.000-04:00

Rainy day in Cincinnati, but the streets of Over the Rhine are busy with walkers and bikes, too. So nice to see the bright yellows, purples and blues of all the springtime flowers. As for me, I'm just glad to be out, having been sick this past week. Monday mornings are usually walking mornings, but I've moved inside for the time being, while the streets regain some peace. One of my regular stops on Mondays is at First Lutheran Church at Race and 12th. Pastor Fred Cook leads a time of prayer and communion; it is very comfortable, almost like a living room conversation. There is a sense of welcome and belonging in this small group of pilgrims.
The community at First English Lutheran Church extends a lot of care to the larger community outside its walls. Most Mondays, there is clothing available and one Monday a month ( today) there is a community meal. The food is always great and plentiful, prepared by volunteers. Today's meal seemed exceptionally well attended by adults and even a few children. I had my first cup of joe in about a week! The meals are about much more than food, though word is "they put out a really good spread." This is a time of sanctuary and friendship. Always there are old friends and new faces at the tables. Always, there are many examples of small kindnesses exchanged, advice and help, listening. I am constantly amazed at the generosity offered by people who have many needs of their own. It is humbling to someone like me who can be pretty cranky after a bad day. Anyway, something awesome is happening when a church basement becomes a nourishing place for body and soul- the kind of place that can make a person look forward to Mondays.

Peace, please

2010-03-28T13:05:00.001-04:00

Each was someone's son, brother, partner, grandson, friend. Some were fathers. Who they would have become, what they might have contributed, is now lost to the community.
All shot. All died this week in Cincinnati.

May God give them peace and comfort all who loved them.
Michael French, 34
Eddie Thomas, 26
Daris Brown, 20
Serigne Diokhane, 25
Ramone Johnson, 20
Calvin Lail, 25
Richard Parks, 26

We hope a life giving connection will come from this senseless taking of these lives.

Tired Feet

2010-03-27T20:44:00.001-04:00

Feet.....one of the issues many homeless people struggle with is how to take care of their feet. There is a lot of walking, out in the elements, all kinds of weather. Keeping feet dry, warm, taking care of blisters, infections, trimming nails....these things sound pretty easy to do from the comfort of my living room. Add homelessness, add some diabetes or a war injury, add gout, add shoes too tight for too many years or maybe only shared shoes passed down in large families...well, it's a totally different story. Things like a foot soak, a nail trim, and a pair of dry socks go a long way for someone who is clocking a lot of miles on urban pavement. My dear friend Barbara McInnis R.N. was the champion of foot clinics for the homeless, complete with foot soaks. With Holy Thursday coming in just a few days, we remember Jesus himself washed and cared for the feet of his friends before sharing a final meal together. For the homeless, even simple footcare may require a special appointment.
Let's face it, when your feet aren't working well, it is pretty tough to get around. Whether you put your feet up on your ottoman at home, or on a cot at the shelter, there is nothing like getting off your feet at the end of a long day. One of the things I have learned this winter is how tired and swollen those feet can be after a full day of work at the day labor pool or a day of walking to stay warm and dry.

Opening Day

2010-03-27T18:04:00.000-04:00

In the few years while I was at chaplain school, a lot changed in the world. The big shift in the economy created increasing needs with fewer resources, far fewer job openings. I began to wonder if there might be something new out there for me, and there was....but it turned out to be also something old. Thirty some years earlier, my work had been with the homeless and my heart has always been there. So, one January day, I put on my big black coat and filled a bag with candy, planned a route and went out to see if a presence on the street would be of value to those who call the streets home.

A few months have gone by and there have been some great connections growing from the cement and asphalt that is Over the Rhine. Stay tuned . I'll be posting the stories right here.....Peace to you, Bea