During the service at Church Under the Bridge, I stand in the back with a friendly black man, kind of shy. He nods toward the speaker.
“That’s my cousin up there,” he says.
“Really?”
“I knew they’d pick him this time.” He grins quietly.
The brothers were both devoted Christians, from their upbringing, he says.
While we listen to the sermon, a tall blonde teenager sidesteps in, striking conversation with the man. Soon, he introduces himself to me—a student at Concordia University, considering entering seminary after graduating. It’s really, really encouraging to me to see a youth spending time at CUB, so passionate.
After the sermon ended, I say goodbye and headed toward the other side of the parking lot.
I have to be honest with you—it isn’t easy approaching strangers. It isn’t easy initiating conversation, being open and friendly, not knowing what to expect. Actually, it’s so terrifying sometimes that the fear physically twists me away while I walk.
I see ‘Mitchell’ while I’m pushing in that fear—he’s sitting leaned against a concrete pillar, colorful pages of comics across his lap. I don’t know what draws me towards the bundled figure.
“What are you reading?”
He looks up.
***
I think what struck me most about this encounter was his placidness. My chest was caving for him, near the end of our conversation—I told him I didn’t know what I could do to help. He shrugged. When I left him, he simply picked up his newspaper and continued reading, as if nothing had happened.
- I felt somewhat powerless, somewhat saddened. I thought that conversation could always be a powerful tool in changing someone’s life—and it is often so emotionally important, as I’ve been learning—but sometimes it can’t replace hard cash. Or a hard bed, or tangible help.
- Austin has declared that it’s ended veteran homelessness (http://kxan.com/2016/08/19/austin-plan-to-house-all-homeless-veterans-accomplished/). And although this doesn’t mean that no veterans live on the streets—some choose the open air—I’ve met at least a few former soldiers who don’t want homelessness. It’s proving to me the risk of making overarching statements, like that such a complex issue can be ended. Complex issues are real problems and very complicated for a reason; it’s difficult to make any general statement about the state of one. I truly wish that every single person with their every particular stories could receive what they justly deserve, individualized, potent. That’s the heart of the problem and the goal of the solution, I think. Ending homelessness means something very different for each homeless person.
Excited to keep learning more,
-Isabella, 2/12/17
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