Learnin’ the Ropes

Well, it’s October 31st… Halloween! I’ve been here in Tucson since early September. I know I’m a little late getting started, so my first post might be a tad lengthy so I can play catch-up. Bare with me as I summarize please, I promise it’ll be less of a novel after this one. Oh, and for those who enjoy visuals, it looks like this back in my ol Kentucky hometown right about now:
And this is what it looks like where I’m currently living:

The locals call it “fall”. But I have yet to see anything fall, so I cannot come to terms with that name. And so I’m calling it Autumn because sometimes, if you’re lucky… I’ve been told if you stand perfectly still you can almost, almost feel a breeze.
But enough with the weather small talk… I’m not blogging to say I miss the crunch of colorful leaves beneath my boots. Or waking up and looking outside to see the morning frost still lingering on the grass. Or drinking steaming apple cider to warm you up and not just because it tastes good and it’s October. In this post, I’m going to do some self-examination and perhaps even come to terms with where I am in my spiritual discernment process and where I believe God is leading me. So, let me take a deep breath here to ready myself, aaaand… here we go:
When I first arrived in Tucson I was still unsure of exactly what I’d be doing in my placement at Southside Presbyterian Church part-time facilitating Cross Street Ministries and part-time working with the children and youth of the church. I had worked with kids before, but had never really had any experience with the homeless. I was briefly told the day before I started that, in the mornings Cross Street provided over 150 meals twice a week to the large homeless community of Tucson and that they additionally provided clothing, haircuts and showers to anyone who needed them during that time. And with that information in mind, I jumped right in thinking I had somewhat of an idea what I was doing.
Boy, was I ever wrong about that. I woke up around 4:30 a.m. and biked on over to Southside. I could smell eggs already cooking once I had rounded the final corner in the (still) pitch black morning. Only one light was on, the kitchen light- and voices carried through to where I was trying to find a place to lock up my bike somewhere between all the other bikes that were already there.
“No es necesario poner mucha agua en la maquina de cafe!” (“You don’t need to put a lot of water in the coffee machine!”) someone was shouting. The guilty party responded by yelling back in English- “Do you want them to be jumping around all day? We need to water it down to make it last anyways!”
I didn’t think I’d be needing to use Spanish in my placement, but before even walking through the door I had heard it, so I was already wrong about something. Then I opened the door. It looked a bit like utter chaos, with around 7 people all doing food prep or washing dishes within the tiny kitchen, and about 15 more out in the fellowship hall all hard at work moving tables, chairs, making coffee, etc. And they were all yelling amongst one another.
But that was not what took me aback. I remembered forcing myself to wipe the sleep from my eyes and then found myself realizing- “Most of these people are homeless themselves.” I had no idea before walking in the door that morning that Cross Streets was a unique program in that it was both client based and client run. Not only that, but the “chaos” I saw was actually a very organized system in which every volunteer had a specific job.
For example, Ralph always fries the eggs (we go through about 25 dozen any given day) and makes sure to add in meat to them so that the clients are sure to get at least one high protein food that day. Or that Rudy always prepares the mass amounts of coffee, using our tempermental coffee makers that I’m still convinced only work right when he uses them. Boone always runs the showers, giving each person exactly 5 minutes each and doling them out just the necessary amounts of shampoo or shaving cream so as not to waste our limited shower supplies.
So, when I wasn’t coordinating food pick up, drop off, donation, volunteer meetings, etc… what was going to be my role in all of this? It seemed like everything was already pretty much in place and running itself quite well. And so, after a few weeks of helping wherever help was needed and seeing how everything worked, I found the spot that I now work during the mornings.
It came to our attention that the homeless women did not like to shower at the same time as the men (for obvious reasons) and so we decided to start having them the men. The dining bell rings at 6:30 a.m. sharp (yes, bell ringing and gate opening is someone’s specific job as well), and the church gates are opened and the clients know the drill- they flood in and line up. They recite a brief Saint Francis prayer (in English and Spanish), then recieve a bi-lingual prayer/blessing before being served.
We now let the women who want to shower inside the church grounds before 6:30 a.m. so that they can shower without it being co-ed. And I volunteered to be the one who rations out the shower supplies and stays with them to make sure that no unwanted people come in during that time. At first, they were unsure about my intentions because I’m so much younger than the other volunteers and am volunteering amongst mainly homeless folks.
But, I’m glad to say that they are slowly starting to open up to me. There are only 2 shower stalls, and normally about 15 or so women, so I brought a radio into the shower quarters and at first we’d sing along as they waited their turn. But nowadays, we mostly talk.
They tell me how when you are a woman living on the streets, you have to constantly have to be on your guard. Most of them have dogs or just constantly stay together because being alone is just too dangerous. I can see in them just how exhausting it is to be alert all the time, I just cannot imagine it. For them, this brief time while they are in the shower room is a time to relax. Even though it’s only for a few minutes, they don’t have to worry about their safety. And I think it is because of this that they are starting to trust me and open up to me.
In my next post, I will share their some of their heartbreaking stories more in depth. For now though, I hope that our relationships continue to grow and I am glad to be able to provide a sort of temporary sanctuary for them. And I hope they know that they are doing far more for me than I will ever be able to do for them. Until next time… vaya con Dios 🙂