In the hallways of San Francisco General Hospital: (or) I don't do blood very well....

Love to you all from the Tenderloin!  It’s the 7^th anniversary of Because Justice Matters.  I’m in Redding hanging out with my BF MaryBeth and my BJM sisters are having brunch (of course) back in San Francisco. Sisters, forever!

A friend posted a pic of a medical provider with the caption, “I’m a nurse. Obliged to provide top-notch care and comfort – even to people with freaking swastikas tattooed on their flesh.  If I can take care of Nazi sympathizers, they can serve pizza to gay people.”

Yesterday with a friend at San Francisco General Hospital. Whoa! This is what healthcare looks like for the urban poor....In the hallways. HALLWAYS, mind you… I saw medical procedures being done. Discussions of confidential information with patients.

Nurses and Docs treating angry, confused drunk people (overheard said to thrashing, confused guy by kind resident with a smile: "It's okay, we're just getting some fluid into you beside beer"), mentally ill people (one screamed over and over and OVER "I'm going to a better place" until another patient muttered, 'You could go there now...'  have to admit, she was saying what I was too “nice” to say….)

Disturbing, sexually inappropriate, bad-smelling men from the streets. "Failed" suicide attempts with blood everywhere (evidently, I don’t do blood well…felt kinda queasy). Sirens outside followed by yelling. Nurse said it was a really bad car accident. Some guy with a truly amazing vocabulary of profanity who threatened people and had to have a police officer standing by.

I had one of my “Jesus, here we are” moments. Part of me wanted to leave and take a walk in the park.  Any park. Part of me wanted to start down the crowded, noisy hallway, going bed to bed. Smiling. Touching gently. Praying. Saying, “Jesus is here. You aren’t invisible.”  Sometimes I laugh at the weird places where I suddenly feel at home (except for the blood…ick)

Had a momentary flash of that unsmiling security guard escorting me from the building and me having to leave my friend mid-x-ray…so I didn’t cross the chicken line.  Wondering if I should go back.  My beautiful Jesus could clear that ER and send everyone home healed. Am I brave enough to do what I see my Father in heaven doing?

But, this brings me to the actual purpose of telling this story. The nurse and the ‘freaking swastikas’….

In the 4+ hours I spent there, never, not once, did I hear anyone ask a patient, "Are you gay?... Are you divorced?... Put on this hajib or I won’t help you.”

I didn't even hear anybody say, "Are you Christian? Because I'm gay and I don't like the way your people treat me."

Now, maybe I know some “Indiana-type sympathizers” who don’t want to be forced to do things they believe support lifestyles with which they disagree (translate: don’t want to bake wedding cakes for gay weddings or be a real estate agent for gay couples looking for houses).  I don’t know…

And, I must acknowledge that a Michigan pediatrician refused to act as primary care doctor for a newborn patient when she realized the baby’s parents were two women.  And, I am in the “affirming” camp just so you don’t think I’m somebody I’m not.   But…

These two stories feel important to me. 

Recently I asked some 20 and 30 something young women…smart, very well educated, compassionate, aware….why they rejected Christianity.  Here are (in my words) their reasons: the cruel, intentionally rejecting way they saw Christians treat gay people, Christians who reject science because they “don’t believe in global warming” and don’t have a clue why.  Misogyny in the church (all men all the time). And, Christians blaming women for “dressing immodestly” instead of teaching men to keep their eyes and hands to themselves.  (A couple mentions of the Duggers being “bat shit crazy”….but that was sort of comic relief….)

The witness of Jesus is harmed by Christians who appear to be more concerned about the gay couple down the block who want to be married than they are about the homeless mom and kids sleeping on the street or the working poor who must choose between paying bills and buying medication.

I’m gonna scrounge around and see if I still have my What Would Jesus Do bracelet…

Brave hearts, taking a break, and visit #2 to the bouncer at New Century Strip Club

So, all of a sudden it's May. Great gobs of it - how did this happen?
Of course, May in San Francisco isn't quite the "hallelujah, finally the snow is gone" moment that Midwesterners celebrate.  In fact, it gets colder as summer approaches.  The SF joke is a quote attributed to Mark Twain that "The coldest winter I ever spent was summer in San Francisco."

The BJM team is taking a modified break for the rest of this month.  Our director, Ruthie, had planned a well-deserved sabbatical to rest and hear from God. Recent staff changes left Lisa, Natt, and myself holding down the fort with the women's ministry. Interns leaving. Summer interns coming. We all needed a break.

Cancelling Nail Day for 4 weeks was very difficult. We recognize that, for some women in the community, Nail Day is a cornerstone of the week. A dependable, safe-zone they count on to start each week.  To connect with BJM staff and feel loved and cared about.  So deciding not to have Nail day means those women feel upended. Abandoned even.  Our beloved M. won't speak to me!

Yet, I can see that our BJM staff is tired.  In need of time and space for R&R. Time just to think and meet God for coffee as it were.  One of our staff headed out of state for retreat and regrouping. Another attended some weddings and had a party at her house!  A third is taking some overseas vacation time with her wonderful husband.  I'm heading to Redding for a long weekend with my bff MaryBeth Haunty....and plans for an eat-and-talk fest with Chris and Sarah Pollasch, too.

So, last Friday I was assigned to hot chocolate outreach again.  Invited "anyone interested" to accompany me to O'Farrell, Larkin, and Polk Streets to make the rounds of some of the TL strip clubs. Three high school kids from Napa took the bait, and we headed out.

First, we met a woman named Julie, leaning against a building with her friend, smoking and waiting. Within minutes of our "hi, I'm Julia...it's cold...would you like some cocoa...." her friend's "friend" arrived. A tightly wound guy with no smile for me and annoyance written all over his face.  Of course, he was their pimp.  And, who's going to make him an offer for his "girls" with three white kids from Napa and somebody's mom hanging around.  Nobody. 

But Julie wanted to talk.  She wanted cocoa and wanted me - very much - to hear that she knows Jesus and wants somebody to pray for her.  "Pray I make good decisions," she asked. And, in a low voice, "Pray that I get out of this. I gotta make some changes.....something's gotta change."

She let us pray for her.  Held me a long time in a hug. I used to joke that some people have such orphaned hearts that they would crawl into my womb and be born if they could.  That's how it felt. Clinging and saying, "I gotta make some changes."  She had tears in her eyes. So did I.

Mr. no-smile wasn't happy, but Julie kept chattering away. "He can wait," she said.  At one point, I whispered. "Are you safe? Will he hurt you because you're talking to me?"  She shook her head. "Nah...he's nothin'."  I wasn't so sure, so we hugged one last time. I said,  "Thanks. See you."

And, we headed to the New Century club.  There, at his post, was Jason....the bouncer!  He was shocked that I remembered him and asked about his son.  He's cut back his work schedule to 4 nights a week and isn't playing gigs "for awhile," he said. He let me pray again.  Hugged until he squeezed the air out of me.  And introduced me to "Chelsea" - one of "the girls" who was waiting at the club entrance for her boyfriend to "stop by."  Chelsea declined our offer of cocoa. "I'm used to being cold," she said. "they keep the club so cold...we're always cold but we get used to it."  She gifted me with a huge, sweet smile.  Looked like maybe she was out of high school. Maybe. 

"I'll see you again," I shook Chelsea's tiny hand. "Good to meet you."

So. Step 2.  One more  step toward befriending the girls at the New Century and seeing what difference love will make in that dark place. 

Right now, I'm asking God for 3 full time BJM staff women (4 including myself) to focus on re-starting the ministry of relationships and love with girls and women working in Tenderloin strip and sex clubs.  Next time you're having a conversation with Father, you ask too! Okay?
Let's do this thing!