My Role by Kaze Gadway

My Role by Kaze Gadway

     After 30 years of working with communities in poverty around the world, I spent thirteen years with at risk Native American youth and am now spending this year walking the streets talking to the homeless. I am discovering this Lent that my role, my duty, my joy is to discern dignity and sacredness of all I encounter, starting with myself. I don’t think that anything else is important in my retirement years.

     On Sunday I talked to a man on a bicycle whose face was empty of all joy and hope. In response to the question “How are you doing?” he says with great defiance, “I’m alive.”

     In a side conversation, I ask him if he has enough food and blankets. His eyes tear up momentarily and he shakes his head “no.” I whisper to him where he can go for these things. As Amy and I leave for the next group of homeless people on the Breezeway, he says in a clear voice “God bless.”

     I’m not sure what this all means. To use a metaphor, I find that God has opened my eyes to see the dignity of others. It has been there all this time. I just am discerning it now.

     Thank God for the gift of these people in my life.

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Street Skills by Kaze Gadway

Street Skills by Kaze Gadway

     Last week I talked to two middle age men who have only been on the streets for a year. They have traveled from other cities looking for work. One man tells me how many other men he has met this year who just are not going to make it.

     “Why not?” I ask.

     The surprising answer is “They don’t have their priorities straight.”

     “What do you mean?” I inquire.

     “You have to be willing to hitchhike to other places where the jobs are. You have to earn enough money to go to a motel and get cleaned up, including your clothes. You have to hold out some reserve in money so you are not hungry and you have to have confidence that you have some skill for a job. You can’t let yourself be run down.”

     As I examined his litany of survival skills, I found similarities in those life skills for people who have homes. The skills include taking risks, having confidence in yourself, spending moderately and not all at once, know your strengths and keep up your appearance.

     I didn’t expect such wisdom from a street person. Once again I have had to change my assumptions. Lent is a good time to relearn how to be humble.

“Yeah, we did” by Kaze Gadway

“Yeah, we did” by Kaze Gadway

     On Wednesdays, Amy Mallick and I go to our street. Street people sleep on the sidewalk and sometimes in the dirt of the vacant lot. Since we go there every Wed, people recognize us. Since we have white/grey hair they don’t see us as authority or power. We are just two senior citizens talking to people in the street and sometimes handing out stuff like socks or candy.

     We are often asked, “Who are you with?” We think that the question really is “Do you have an agenda and what is it going to cost me in dignity.”

     Our responses vary. “We come twice a week to listen to and find out what the needs are on the street.” “We are volunteers with the Episcopal Church and work with the homeless.” “We like to listen to people and direct them to places that provide food or shelter.”

     What we don’t say is our real reason for being there. Both Amy and I feel we are called to respond to the plight of street people. We don’t know what we are doing. What we know is that there are too many people who do not or cannot fit into our society’s images of being responsible citizens. Some are afraid of being in buildings. Some are traumatized by physical violence against them. Some are confused and lost in mind. Some cannot turn their desires into employable skills. And so on.

     And what we hear is that people feel they are ignored because they are worthless. They do not feel they have value. So what we do is communicate value through smiles, listening, small tokens, handshakes and hugs. Sometimes, if it is appropriate, we ask someone to pray for us—usually right then on the street.

     It makes a tremendous difference when we can call someone by name we have met before. “Hey Pat, how’s it going?” is like a benediction. They notice and feel blessed. And with the exchange of greetings and warmth, we are blessed and know that we are in a holy place.

     Last Wednesday, we bought some food for a diabetic who had not eaten for 36 hours. When I say that we just bought the food at a 7/11, she exclaims “You didn’t have to do that.” My immediate, spontaneous response is “Oh, yeah, we did.”

     I don’t know what that meant to her but she was grinning and nodded as though it made perfect sense. I am hoping that she got that she is a person of great value and that starvation is not an option in our worldview.

     Whatever happened, it was a perfect communion. A kind of—grace happened to both of us and all we can do is receive it.

     Every time Amy and I return to the car after one of our days’ out, we are both grinning and happy throughout our being. We can’t explain it. Our happiest days are the days when we go outside talking to street people. God is there, we are in holy space, the whole world is bathed in light—I can’t explain it but it happens.

 

Invisible by Kaze Gadway

Invisible by Kaze Gadway
Do you remember in High School when you wanted to be invisible, to fit in like everyone else? And when you changed to become highly visible, to attract notice?
For the Native youth in Arizona, they wanted a black hoodie so they would not stand out. Then, somewhere in their journey they became confident in themselves and wanted to attract a girl or boy friend. Then they could not wait to wear brighter and exotic clothes.
In talking to a homeless woman yesterday I found that it has nothing to do with confidence. There has been recent news on police shooting homeless people and all she wanted to do was to wear something that could make her invisible.
Early I had offered a jacket to a homeless man and he took the dark one with no insignia on it. He or his friends would not consider the lighter browns or blues. Now I understand.
It’s not safe to be noticed on the street.
Sometimes I look at the row of homeless sleeping on the sidewalk and I have wondered why they so carefully roll up their sleeping bags and tie it with rope or a belt. They are trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.
I am learning about “safety” in different cultures. As I grow older I am warned about walking by myself on some streets because I look vulnerable.
There is no point to this blog. I am just stretching my thinking about the value of being visible and invisible.

Breezeway by Kaze Gadway

Breezeway by Kaze Gadway
It is so much fun on Sunday to go out to the Breezeway and talk with the many street people who gather there to sit in the sun and wait for organizations to show up with food.
As I have commented before, those who are confused and those who are young are the ones who fall through the cracks.
One young woman came over to me and stood on the side of me. She asks me how I am doing. I say fine and ask her how she is doing. She says fine and then asks again how I am doing. I realize that she is not totally in command of her behavior. I ask if she needs something. She says no and moves on to the next group of people.
She stands on the side of another person, talking sideways. I’m not sure what she fears but as I watch her, she never stands in front of another, only sideways.
I feel helpless to help her. There has to be some trust established before she may reach out and get some aid.

Establishing trust seems to be a major part of my ministry with street people. It just takes time and patience.

Old Images by Kaze Gadway

Old Images by Kaze Gadway

I don’t often see someone on the streets that looks like the old image I had of a homeless person. As I traveled toward the streets where the homeless sleep I saw this old man. He looked vulnerable, unable to even pull his blanket around him. I stop and ask him if he needed anything.

“No,” he says. “I’m fine,” he states with a certain dignity. I wished him a good day and continued driving.

I do not understand those who believe that the homeless are all working the system. Some are and will take whatever they can get. But the majority of those on the streets want to survive and want to be treated with respect. They are still human even if they are poor.

It is a blessing to be with those who have shed everything and cling to what is important.