What a Week

"Oh the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are -- chaff and grain together -- certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and with the breath of kindness blow the rest away." -George Eliot (pen name of Mary Ann Evans), novelist (1819-1880)

I pulled this quote from

17 pens

, my pal Michael's blog. I love it.

I don't even know where to begin writing about the last week. The last week has been intense but amazing and just, overall, good. Very, very good. I feel such contentment and peace about being here in England, doing this work. This morning my friend Laura came for tea and we sat in my peaceful, quiet, sunny bedroom chatting and just being. I sat there, perched on the bed, clutching my tea and watching the shifting sunlight, blown about by the apple tree branches outside the window, move in patterns over Laura's lovely face. And I felt again that encompassing peace. I didn't even really want to talk, and Laura understood (although, as you can imagine, I was soon talking plenty!)

I do worry about next year and wonder where on earth I will be. I realized the other day that, during all of last year as I prayed and discerned about doing this Discipleship Year program here in Nottingham, I was more or less planning on returning to Chicago since I was in a serious relationship. Even before we were engaged, I just sort of assumed I'd be going back and picking up my life more or less where it left off. And now, of course, there is nothing compelling me to return. Oh, yes, there are marvelous friends and wonderful places and opportunities in Chicago, and I was very happy in my life there. But I do know that when I return, if I stay, it will all be different. Everyone will have changed, everyone will have moved on, in a sense. And I will have moved on, as well. Consider the experiences I've been having lately. It's impossible to NOT be transformed.

Last Wednesday Julia and I went shopping for Soup Run. Twice a week a team from Trent Vineyard goes out into the city centre with sandwiches, crisps, chocolate and cold and hot drinks. We go to meet the homeless population, and they all know that we'll be out and they look for us, as well. It was my first time on Soup Run and I wasn't sure how it would all come together, but it really wasn't hard at all. Jules and I went to Sainsbury's and bought the stuff on the list: fruit, bread, meat and cheese, chocolate, crisps, squash (the drink, not the veggie), plastic bags, etc. We were famished and treated ourselves to McDonalds on the way back to church. We did arrive 5 minutes late (due to the long line at Sainsbury's, not our McDonalds stop) but received much merciless ribbing. We brought all of the food into the church kitchen, where small group leaders were waiting to assemble it all, but left our Mickey Ds out in the hall. Then Julia and I snuck into the hall and began quickly eating our hamburgers, hoping to escape notice. However, group leader (and youth pastor) James happened to stick his head into the hall. He saw us and his face fell.

"You went to MacDonalds?" he asked (they all say it with a pronounced "Mac" here). "And you didn't get me any?"

Then he stuck his head back into the kitchen.

"Come here, everyone," he called. "Come see why the girls were late."

I sensibly slipped behind a pillar but Julia squared her shoulders and planted her feet in defiance and began cramming her Big Mac into her mouth with a look of pure rebellion on her face.

"MacDonalds?" Nathan exclaimed. "Julia, that's disgraceful!"

"I'm not sorry," Jules said, glaring at him as she continued to stuff her burger into her mouth. Much merriment ensued.

We made about 50 sandwiches and picked up the rucksacks filled with thermos bottles, hot drink makings, emergency supplies and things like socks and dog food. Then we headed out to the city centre. After splitting into two teams, we wandered around the city, looking for someone who might want a hot drink or some food.

We finally settled on the steps of the downtown Marks & Spencer department store and set up a little drinks station there as the guys started coming. We chatted with them for a long time--I spent a very long time talking with one man who was telling me all of his conspiracy theories about JFK, Tony Blair and everything in between. We gave out sandwiches and the other food, as well as lots of tea, hot chocolate, coffee and even some soup (hence the name: Soup Run). Then we all went off to a pub where a friend's band was playing for a farewell event (or, as they say here, a "leaving do").

As we walked towards the pub, I saw Steve, one of our group members, walking ahead looking rather dejected. I caught up to him and asked him what was wrong.

"Well, I was just thinking about what we're going to do now, versus what those guys are going back to," he said. And he was right. We'd finished our job and were off to enjoy ourselves in warmth and comfort once more. And these men were going back to their difficult lives on the streets. Living rough, they call it here.

The next morning I was down at The Arches, as usual, doing project working (meeting wih the clients and helping them get what they need), as usual. I recognized a few of the guys I'd met on Soup Run and said hello. One man came in for a shower so I helped him get some toiletries and a change of clothes together. He rifled without shame through the bin of donated, (gently) used underwear and socks, and went off for his shower, leaving quite a trail of scent behind him but pleased with a change of clothes. He was about my age.

I also helped a young woman a few years younger who'd come in with her 12-day-old baby boy. "Sharon" had just received legal refugee status after having fled Eritrea and coming to England seeking political asylum. Her tiny new son looked like a precious doll, and he slept through the entire interview. Since Sharon had received status and been given a flat, we knew that all she had was a cooker, microwave and mattress on the floor, and I was allowed to be generous, especially as her fiance is expected to join her from Sudan in a few weeks. However, when we went back to the Furniture Arches, there was nothing there. We haven't had many donations lately and it had all been claimed.

While we were looking, though, the church van pulled up. My friend Jen explained that a woman had just died and her daughter donated the entire contents of the house to the Arches. Sharon was right there standing with me and we were able to claim it all for her: double bed, matching wardrobe and chest of drawers, dining room table with four chairs, sofa, display cabinet, mirror, etc. Sharon just couldn't believe and neither could I, hardly. I wish the woman who so generously donated her mother's things had been there to see the immediate difference they had made in the life of a new young family just getting ready to start over in a foreign land.

Friday I spent all day at church doing fun Discipleship Year team day stuff, as usual, but then that night I was on the Cabin rota. The Cabin is similar to the Soup Run except the team brings out a little camper-trailer (they call it a caravan), hook up a generator, and serve hot food from it in a parking lot.

My fellow disciple Pete and I were just there to help, so we rode in the cab of the truck out to Sneinton Market, where the homeless and poor guys (and a few girls) were waiting. We helped set up tables and chairs in front, and then a couple dropped off the food: pots of hot chili, lots of baked potatoes, bags of cheese and bread. Another team came and served hot drinks from one window, as well as passing out sandwich packs, while Pete and I dished up the hot food. Some men were very pleasant and polite, some were ... not. "How come his is bigger than mine?", "Oi, I want more chili," "Don't put any cheese on mine," "Chili and potatoes again? What happened to the Caribbean chicken," were just a few of the comments. However, the teacher in me refused to be bullied and I made the guys wait their turn and didn't give them special food unless a) they asked nicely and b)there was enough. Later Pete told me he was impressed with how strict I was. But I kind of had to be. Many of them were drunk or stoned so it was pretty much like dealing with a bunch of toddlers!

Of course, they weren't all like that. Some of the men were very pleasant and polite. My accent always gives away my nationality, of course, so I talked to several of them about America. After the food was gone two of the guys stood up by the window and talked with me. One of them has traveled quite a lot in the West, so we talked about that. The other was pretty out of it. He is just 20, he said, but he was missing most of his teeth. His black hair was incredibly greasy and obviously hadn't been washed in a long time. He didn't speak clearly at all and was very hard to understand. He started telling Cary (one of the other helpers) and me about how he is trying to get off meth and a few other drugs. His father started giving him drugs when he was just a boy. He spent most of his teen years in jail. As I watched him and listened to him, my heart just broke. "God had so many different plans for you," I thought. "He wanted you to grow up in a healthy family where you were loved and where you thrived. You could be a successful young man starting out in business right now, or a university student. Intead, you are here, broken and bruised and quite possibly beyond true redemption." I prayed a lot for him that night.

I was surprised, though, that both young men began asking me about God and whether or not I was a Christian. I guess they know we're there from a church, so these questions come up even though I don't introduce them. The young guy told us about how he attended some Bible studies in jail and how he liked reading the Bible now, but that it was hard on the streets to find a warm place with lights where he wouldn't be kicked out.

After awhile we shut the Cabin up and drove back to church, but the day still wasn't over. There was a women's ministry event that night, attended by about 300 ladies, and I had to help break down the tables and chairs. I rode my bike home very wearily and fell into bed around 11 p.m.

The next morning was Saturday and I got up early enough to watch an episode of "Friends" while eating my cereal, but then I was on the train into town to meet the others for our biweekly Ministry on the Streets event. (For stories from that event, go

here

). Afterwards I spent two hours at a cafe working on editing a paper for a Northwestern grad student (something I get paid handsomely to do, so I didn't mind) and then my friend Ruthie met up with me. We went to the bus station to inquire about our upcoming trip to Chatsworth House on Nov. 3, then caught the train back to my place. Soon a few other friends had arrived and a lively game of "Ticket to Ride" was in progress, followed by a girlie night spent watching "Dirty Dancing."

Sunday morning I was coordinating the 9-11s room at church. We had 35 kids and started with only 3 teachers, not a good plan when we're all crammed into a tiny room, but a few others got cajoled into helping. It was a hectic but very fun morning and the lesson plan and curriculum I prepared seemed to go over really well, even the teaching bit where I gave the kids a mini-sermon. They also seemed very enthralled and had a good time.

I was back at home to polish off that paper for the NU student and send it off, then enjoyed a lovely roast pork dinner with the family before I had to get on my bike and go BACK to church, this time for choir rehearsal. They've put together a special choir for the Christmas carol service on Dec. 9, which is always a really big deal. That was very fun and the choir is quite good, but I couldn't stay for the entire rehearsal because I had to get down to the auditorium to do set-up for the evening service (it's true. When you are on Discipleship Year they work you very hard!). By this point I was insanely exhausted and nearly falling over, but I made it through the service and clean-up somehow and staggered home on my bike at about 10:30 p.m.

Yesterday was much more relaxed (I slept in until 9 a.m.!!!) but I spent much of it preparing to teach a course on prayer that evening. I'm helping to lead the MORE course, which our pastor Ade pioneered to help new Christians learn about the Christian life and healthy spiritual habits. I was excited to teach on prayer (I distributed my "Meeting with God" booklet--download the PDF from the link list at left) and had a fun PowerPoint presentation to help the 30-or-so adults engage as I told lots of stories and outlined some practical ideas for prayer. I was very nervous before beginning but actually had a GREAT time standing up there (in the same spot and same room where I'd taught the kids the day before, actually) getting to wax eloquently about intimacy with Jesus, one of my very favorite subjects. We followed it up with small group discussion and afterwards several people gave me excellent feedback. I think it was a very helpful session and really helped to demystify and "deguilt" the whole concept of prayer.

So that was my week. Today is quiet and I have to do some journalism work, but tomorrow it all starts again, first when I have coffee with my mentor, then with an evening core group meeting for the small group (the leaders asked me to join it), followed by the actual small group. Then on Thursday I'm helping my friend Hannah present two school assemblies about the poor and what we do at the Arches and will be getting involved with preparing and presenting those. It's a never-ending round but I am loving it. I'm just loving it. Although, if I didn't have these quiet Monday-Wednesday mornings, I'd surely be tearing my hair out by now.