Toasty/Bagel Hope

My apologies for the Dust-Bowl type drought in the updates. I would tell you that I just didn’t have time, but in an effort to be transparent, I’ll just say that I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Honestly though, the second half of the summer was much, much different than the first. We didn’t have as many groups that came on Sunday night and stayed till Friday morning, for whatever reason. Because of this, there was a substantial amount of downtime for Tori and I. Many groups came in just for the day and worked or painted, while some came and stayed for only a few days. To pass the time, we brushed up on our forensic skills and tore through Season 1 of CSI.
Now that the summer is over, I’ve been trying to process what I learned, or didn’t learn, from this summer. It is safe to say that while last summer taught me extensively about things I’m good at, this summer taught me exactly the opposite. It seems to be a theme of this particular journey. Being reminded of my inequities is a good thing, I suppose, but is never an easy thing to stomach. It’s a good starting point in addressing things I need some grace for, beginning ministry. It is, however, hilarious to look at the ways you can rationalize or talk yourself out of doing certain things is certain situations. I would expose some of these things, but I’m not ready to be quite that vulnerable yet. I’m sure you’ll understand.

Much of what I’m about to type has been said before by Deb, so I’m not going to act all profound by saying it here and claiming credit, just so you know. Just giving credit where it’s due.

There were many times this summer when I asked myself “Why am I here?” My experience this summer had the unfortunate and unfair position of being compared in every way to my experience from last summer, so I was continually asking myself if what we were doing was accomplishing anything. Last summer, we oversaw 15 homes that were repaired to be warmer, safer and drier; that is, the families that occupied those homes’ lives were vastly improved. This summer, inevitably because of many of our volunteers, I struggled to see the good in what we were doing. Sure, the homes looked much better with a fresh coat of paint and trim, but what did we do to alleviate the problems that faced these homeowners? We would only be there a week (maybe two), so it’s not like we could enter into deep, meaningful relationships. We were just…painting. The neighborhoods they lived in were still riddled with crime, the schools would continue to be subpar, the health problems many homeowners carried around were still there and they would continue to be overlooked. Painting their home for them seemed to be, in my eyes, putting a band-aid on a gunshot wound.

Thankfully, as the summer progressed, I was able to see a bigger picture. In the neighborhoods we worked and lived in, there wasn’t much light. Crime, as I said, drugs and poverty were simply ways of life. But throw a coat of paint on a house, though, and a little light begins to break through. Deb mentioned of times when neighbors, seeing the new house, would come outside and try to tidy up their own property by picking up trash and doing yard work. Hope, she said many times, is contagious. So while many homeowners still have rotten siding, accumulating medical bills, live in fear of their own neighborhoods, and struggle to buy groceries, perhaps we have done just a little to brighten up their lives. Hopefully, we have made enough of a crack in what was despair so that some light can break through.

Light, in toasty and bagel.