Sometimes I am so undone by how beautiful and adorable and smiley and cuddly the babies are.
Those are my best times. These girls - Blair and Maxime - are daily signs of life and hope.
But, today even the babies couldn't break through a sense of sadness as I walked in the Tenderloin and met up with people I love.
Much of this day, Saturday, I hung out in my room, enjoying the quiet and trying
to get some writing done. About 6 I headed out for a walk and a burger. At 8 I
trekked back to the YWAM base and home. And, felt overwhelmed with sorrow.
A drunk man, smelling of cheap liquor, stumbled across the
intersection at Ellis and Mason. He politely apologized to me and staggered
on. As I got closer to our
building, I saw Little Bit, Nancy and a new TL resident, Gretchen, huddled near
a doorway.
“Hi mama,” Little Bit said. I greeted them and felt my heart
sink. They were all high. Little
Bit uses and sells crack and, by sheer force of personality, maintains some order on her
few yards of concrete territory. I didn’t have the energy to stay and talk. I
wanted to cry because they are all high and I was so hopeful that getting an SRO (single room occupancy apartment) might help Little Bit to stop using. It hasn't.
Then, I almost stumble upon Da-Rume, a lankly, articulate,
fascinating soul who is sometimes male, sometimes female and sometimes
transgender. Da-Rume calls me “Beauty” and always says, “I love you. How lovely
to see you tonight.” Sometimes he/she recites big, beautiful chunks of scripture. Or the lyrics to songs. Or even Shakespeare - on a good day.
Today I said “I missed you. I haven’t seen you in a couple
of weeks.” Da-Rume smiled. I
remembered the day I saw him/her standing between lanes of oncoming cars,
singing in what may have been Italian (or nonsense….not sure) and directing
traffic as if the vehicles were players in some mobile symphony.
I was truly happy to see Da-Rume. He/she is one of my
favorite street people. And, I know tomorrow morning the sidewalk where Da-Rume
sleeps will be a chaotic pile of refuse, food, papers, and trash. Da-Rume will
spend the night smoking crack. Chaos and crack go hand-in-hand.
So, I feel overwhelmed. And sad. My grand daughters have and will have every advantage their loving parents can possibly give them. They are loved like none other. Beth and Casey and Becky and Alex have transformed from cool, fun, successful examples of our best-and-brightest into parents who are in love with their daughters beyond all reason or limit.
this is the way it's supposed to be. This is the way every single child is supposed to be welcomed into the world.
But the TL is filled with people who received so little. Sometimes nothing. Often born into homes marked by poverty or violence or abandonment. it isn't fair. it isn't right. it isn't the heart of God-not for a single moment. Tonight the streets return me to one thing I know - that I don't have any solution. I have love. I have Jesus. I have a cup of coffee or a hug to give.
So, tonight I am crying out to Jesus to
come and save. Come and heal. Do a miracle in this neighborhood. I want Him to come and make everything
better. And, I want Him to, somehow, make love less painful and risk-filled.
