“I was an engineer and I needed to get out of the rat race so I bought some property, built a house with a studio and planned on teaching and making art. Unfortunately, my house burned down, I didn’t have insurance and I lost everything. Still trying to figure it out.”
“I’ve been a chef, and I came here thinking that I would do that here, but I haven’t really found anything, but I’m looking.”
“I was school teacher and had to quit work due to some major medical issues. I didn’t have any savings so I lost everything, but I am hoping to find a way to teach again.”
For the last few weeks I have had the privilege of hearing the stories of folks who are living on the margins. They come for a shower, a hot meal, some minor medical attention and community. Most live a very challenging daily existence. For many, the primary goal each day is to find some level of shelter, food and safety.
Living in this constant state of survival attempting to navigate the acutely unknown clearly takes a toll on a person. Yet, in my experience what is just as challenging for folks is an ever increasing sense of lack of worth. Individuals feel not just ignored, but unseen by the rest of the world.
My experience reminded me once again, every person has a story. A story filled with its own unique blend of history and memory, tragedy and joy, hope and possibility. And, the more you lean in and deeply listen to the person’s story, the more their humanity begins to emerge. A humanity that is worthy of respect, regardless of their present reality. All are children of God.
I appreciate how colleague Jaqui Lewis describes the value of respecting the stories, the dignity of every human being:
“In any relationship, fierce love causes us to cross boundaries and borders to discover one another, to support one another, to heal one another. When we do this, when we go crazy with affection, and offer wild kindness to our neighbor across the street or across the globe, we make a new kind of space between us. We make space for discovery and curiosity, for learning and growing. We make space for sharing stories and being changed by what we share. We can learn to see the world not only through our own stories, through our own eyes, but also through the stories and worldview of the so-called other. . . . We simply must open our eyes, look across the room, the street, the division, the border—and reach out to that neighbor, offering our hand, our compassion, and our heart.”
BP