Beau had never had a Tootsie Roll Pop before...
So he ate it. 6 teeth-splintering bites.
Jaime had never had a cell phone before...
So he waited half an hour for someone to pick up. He had not pressed the 'Send' button yet.
Paul hadn't been to college before...
He thought the books were extra merchandise, bought by the rich people.
Grace hadn't celebrated her Birthday in 45 years...
She didn't know her age. Or the song.
It was the first time in forever that Joe had seen his chin, and that mole.
Jules had waited 40 years to see Lake Michigan again, and had forgotton you couldn't see the other side.
Kevin spoke to his father in Louisiana, who had not yet forgotten about him (even though he sounded different. Faded accent.)
Rosa received her one and only laminated picture of her son, and realized how much he looked like her.
Gary had never smelled new shoes.
Nobody had ever made Ray a birthday card.
Louise said that it had been months since someone had looked her in the eye.
[I don't realize what I'm doing until I am told what I have done.
We don't see significance until it's verbalized,
recognized,
revitalized.]
23 November 2009
19 November 2009
Needs
The sign up list for the Referral Desk has two columns:
Name and Need
Both columns vary greatly from day to day.
Today:
Name: Need:
Natasha Everything
Carrie Nothing at all
Natasha came in and laughed at her own joke, and then said she really didn't have anything to talk about.
Carrie and I filled out a full FAFSA form.
You never know.
(Other endearing "Needs": Anna. Hugs. A million dollars. A girlfriend.)
Name and Need
Both columns vary greatly from day to day.
Today:
Name: Need:
Natasha Everything
Carrie Nothing at all
Natasha came in and laughed at her own joke, and then said she really didn't have anything to talk about.
Carrie and I filled out a full FAFSA form.
You never know.
(Other endearing "Needs": Anna. Hugs. A million dollars. A girlfriend.)
10 November 2009
The Obama Phone
In May of 2009, a new internet website was launched that would change all of humanity: http://www.safelinkwireless.com/. This site introduced a program that offered a free cell phone with free monthly minutes available to individuals who were currently recieveing other forms of government assistance (such as food stamps, SSI, Medicaid, etc.)
There are a few other stipulations:
1. You must have the phone sent to a residential address
2. Only one phone will be sent to each address
(There were some more stipulations, but they were in a big paragraph with really small writing.)
This phone, now commonly known as the "Obama Phone", changed my job drastically .
Obama Phone Side-Effect #1.
The Address Scramble
A good number of citizens currently receiving goverment benefits do not have their very own residential address. Many of them have no address at all, many recieve mail at other agencies such as ours (which is not considered a residential address), and some recieve mail at a residents shared with other able-bodied phone-hungry adults. Thus began the Address Scramble of 2009, where everyone claimed their sister's and their mom's and their dogsitter's address to receive The Obama Phone (which resulted in a mobs of complaints two weeks later that the rightful owner of the address surprising received the phone instead of them... and equally surprisingly would not hand it over). Somehow, those complaints ended up aimed at me...
Obama Phone Side-Effect #2.
Incorrectly Directed Death Threats
Since I had assisted approximately 200 people in navegating this website over the past half of a year, I was the only face they could think of when things went wrong. It has become my problem that phones won't charge, free minutes haven't been received, and phones screens have been broken when phones have been used as weapons. When I try to explain that I don't know anything about the phones (and definitely don't have replacements hidden somewhere in my desk), I am often met with verbal violence (and long, fierce detonations of The Look). I have memorized the toll-free Customer Service number, further deepening my association with phone-problems.
Obama Phone Side-Effect #3.
ReachOut Wireless
Sometime after the birth of the Obama Phone (respectively, the First Phone), ReachOut Wireless emerged, with a slightly less professional-looking website, and a shady inquiry for the full Social Security number instead of just the last four digits. I began starting the application with a personal disclaimer that I knew nothing about this cell phone service, and can't repair, refund, or in any other way reconcile the storms you may encounter during cellphonehood. ReachOut had no record of all of the Obama Phone addresses, so everyone who didn't nab an address during the Musical Address episode in the Spring dove for one now (and many who were successful looked forward to further success). Affectionatly called "Not the Obama Phone but the Other One", ReachOut uses phones that sometimes have cameras, making it a fan favorite.
Obama Phone Side-Effect #4.
Phone Juggling
You may be familiar with the "one for drugs, one for girls" multiple cell phone designation, but those aren't your only options. Today, I witnessed a particularly spectacular feat:
Mr. Monty came into my office to use the Long Distance telephone line (a service we offer to anyone needing to call outside of the area, at a limit of three times per month) to call his family in California. During that call, a phone rang somewhere in this jacket. His mother got the "holdonasec" while he answered a call from his case worker, wondering about paper work. His case worker got the next "gimmeaminute" while he gave the iloveyou to his mom. Directly after our line was hung up and he picked up the cell with his case worker, another ring came from his pocket (it was Sweet Home Alabama). His "Boo" was told "donthangup" while he pacified his caseworker. When "Shawty" got sick of waiting, the casworker got "konemoment" while I'm pretty sure "girlyougottachill!" reached both receivers.
It is not uncommon for me to be talking to someone who is talking to someone else, which causes a lot of those "Oops I answered the wrong question--I was wondering why you asked me that" moments.
The teenager in your life will no longer be the only one who only gives you 1/8 of their attention.
Get ready for an Obamaphonation.
There are a few other stipulations:
1. You must have the phone sent to a residential address
2. Only one phone will be sent to each address
(There were some more stipulations, but they were in a big paragraph with really small writing.)
This phone, now commonly known as the "Obama Phone", changed my job drastically .
Obama Phone Side-Effect #1.
The Address Scramble
A good number of citizens currently receiving goverment benefits do not have their very own residential address. Many of them have no address at all, many recieve mail at other agencies such as ours (which is not considered a residential address), and some recieve mail at a residents shared with other able-bodied phone-hungry adults. Thus began the Address Scramble of 2009, where everyone claimed their sister's and their mom's and their dogsitter's address to receive The Obama Phone (which resulted in a mobs of complaints two weeks later that the rightful owner of the address surprising received the phone instead of them... and equally surprisingly would not hand it over). Somehow, those complaints ended up aimed at me...
Obama Phone Side-Effect #2.
Incorrectly Directed Death Threats
Since I had assisted approximately 200 people in navegating this website over the past half of a year, I was the only face they could think of when things went wrong. It has become my problem that phones won't charge, free minutes haven't been received, and phones screens have been broken when phones have been used as weapons. When I try to explain that I don't know anything about the phones (and definitely don't have replacements hidden somewhere in my desk), I am often met with verbal violence (and long, fierce detonations of The Look). I have memorized the toll-free Customer Service number, further deepening my association with phone-problems.
Obama Phone Side-Effect #3.
ReachOut Wireless
Sometime after the birth of the Obama Phone (respectively, the First Phone), ReachOut Wireless emerged, with a slightly less professional-looking website, and a shady inquiry for the full Social Security number instead of just the last four digits. I began starting the application with a personal disclaimer that I knew nothing about this cell phone service, and can't repair, refund, or in any other way reconcile the storms you may encounter during cellphonehood. ReachOut had no record of all of the Obama Phone addresses, so everyone who didn't nab an address during the Musical Address episode in the Spring dove for one now (and many who were successful looked forward to further success). Affectionatly called "Not the Obama Phone but the Other One", ReachOut uses phones that sometimes have cameras, making it a fan favorite.
Obama Phone Side-Effect #4.
Phone Juggling
You may be familiar with the "one for drugs, one for girls" multiple cell phone designation, but those aren't your only options. Today, I witnessed a particularly spectacular feat:
Mr. Monty came into my office to use the Long Distance telephone line (a service we offer to anyone needing to call outside of the area, at a limit of three times per month) to call his family in California. During that call, a phone rang somewhere in this jacket. His mother got the "holdonasec" while he answered a call from his case worker, wondering about paper work. His case worker got the next "gimmeaminute" while he gave the iloveyou to his mom. Directly after our line was hung up and he picked up the cell with his case worker, another ring came from his pocket (it was Sweet Home Alabama). His "Boo" was told "donthangup" while he pacified his caseworker. When "Shawty" got sick of waiting, the casworker got "konemoment" while I'm pretty sure "girlyougottachill!" reached both receivers.
It is not uncommon for me to be talking to someone who is talking to someone else, which causes a lot of those "Oops I answered the wrong question--I was wondering why you asked me that" moments.
The teenager in your life will no longer be the only one who only gives you 1/8 of their attention.
Get ready for an Obamaphonation.
05 November 2009
News. Worthy.
I grew up in a place where big things showed up on the news. If your neighbors made a 15-foot snowman in their front yard, it was on the news. If there was a bomb threat at your high school, it was on the news. If something happened that other people should know about, good or bad, rest assured, you would know about it.
Tragedy struck this neighborhood this week -- twice -- and I bet you haven't heard about it. At least not on the news. Earlier in the week, a woman was found dead in an alleyway. She was the sister of one of my co-workers, and at first, it was not known whether or not it was a heart attack, H1N1, accident, homicide, suicide... But this was not reported on the news.
Yesterday, a woman jumped off of a 7-story parking ramp onto the sidewalk a block away from our building. Today, I have heard many different theories as to who she was... but that is all I have heard. Theories. Guesses. No names. Because this was not reported on the news.
We know that the latter of these two women was someone we probably know, or knew. We know that we probably had seen her earlier this week. We know that she has a family, that she has friends, that she lives a life that others remember. But not all of them will know. They will be left, like us, to wonder who it was; she will be left without homage, and without being grieved over--at least in this neighborhood, at least for now.
We all speculated today: What if she had jumped off of Rockford High School? Off of Forest Hills Foods? What if she was white? What if she had a name others recognized? Then, would this have been news-worthy? Would it have been worth reporting to others? Would her life have been valuable enough to merit at it's end?
Many people who live in the Heartside area watch the news every morning--more often than I do. It is always on in our dining room, on more than one screen, every day. When tragedy is not acknowleged in this neighborhood, it sends a message that many already feel: that the rest of the city, and the rest of the world, do not care what happens down here, doesn't care if they are mugged or robbed or if they create something beautiful or destroy it. Their lives are invisible, even when they end.
But this is not news to them. I think they've believed it for a while.
Tragedy struck this neighborhood this week -- twice -- and I bet you haven't heard about it. At least not on the news. Earlier in the week, a woman was found dead in an alleyway. She was the sister of one of my co-workers, and at first, it was not known whether or not it was a heart attack, H1N1, accident, homicide, suicide... But this was not reported on the news.
Yesterday, a woman jumped off of a 7-story parking ramp onto the sidewalk a block away from our building. Today, I have heard many different theories as to who she was... but that is all I have heard. Theories. Guesses. No names. Because this was not reported on the news.
We know that the latter of these two women was someone we probably know, or knew. We know that we probably had seen her earlier this week. We know that she has a family, that she has friends, that she lives a life that others remember. But not all of them will know. They will be left, like us, to wonder who it was; she will be left without homage, and without being grieved over--at least in this neighborhood, at least for now.
We all speculated today: What if she had jumped off of Rockford High School? Off of Forest Hills Foods? What if she was white? What if she had a name others recognized? Then, would this have been news-worthy? Would it have been worth reporting to others? Would her life have been valuable enough to merit at it's end?
Many people who live in the Heartside area watch the news every morning--more often than I do. It is always on in our dining room, on more than one screen, every day. When tragedy is not acknowleged in this neighborhood, it sends a message that many already feel: that the rest of the city, and the rest of the world, do not care what happens down here, doesn't care if they are mugged or robbed or if they create something beautiful or destroy it. Their lives are invisible, even when they end.
But this is not news to them. I think they've believed it for a while.
04 November 2009
Estrella y mi Oso
Mr. Estrella is a walking paradox. He is a short Spanish-speaking mexican teenager who dresses like a gangster and talks like a retired English professor with a thick accent. He's everybody dude's friend, every girl's "husband". I don't know where he came from, or where he's going, but he sticks out wherever he is, and not just because he wears a fluorescent orange coat.
-
He really has four names, but Estrella is the one I picked.
-
Mr. Estrella has been to see me in my office 32 times since September--mostly just to talk. Every conversation ends like this:
"Pues. No se, Anita. Adios"
(And then, he punches my stuffed bear in the face)
"Estrella! Mi oso! Me PresciOso!"
"It's ugly oso."
And so it goes. I am pleased with a pun in my sencond language, and he is pleased with his insult to a bear I was given that was found in a dumpster.
-
Mr. Estrella got a job painting, which I could tell before he told me. He was covered in it. When he got paid, he bought me three bags of gummy bears. He had never had them before. I gave him some.
"Anita! They are so delicious! I love them! I love them with all of my heart, Anita!"
-
I looked in every drawer until I found calling card that would work for calls outside of the country. Mr. Estrella has not talked to his mother in a year. There is five minutes left on the calling card, but she never answers. Today, Estrella cried.
-
Estrella came into my office last week with a string of spanish exclamations that came a little too fast. All I could catch was "Your teacher! Sooo nice! She is going to call!" And then he went to work. An hour later, I answered the phone:
"Anna? Hi! It's Rachel! Your 3rd grade teacher! I met your friend Juan, and I want to give him a Bible in Spanish. Can I drop it off to you?"
She did, and Estrella carries it with him everywhere he goes now. He said he "looks at it every night".
-
Mr. Estrella looks like Paulie, the native-american/phillipino-looking-19-going-on-11-kid-with-a-dutch-last-name. They both have drinking problems, but Estrella pointed out one very important difference:
"Him, man's body, boy's mind. Me, mind and body both match."
-
Estrella says after he gets paid next, he will move. He says he has no family here, and that his 7 different supposed wives don't count. "Nobody is sad when I am sad" he says. He thinks he will go to New York.
He told me that he was not going to say goodbye.
I asked him why.
He answered in Spanish, and the best translation I could come up with was:
"For the sake of the bear."
-
He really has four names, but Estrella is the one I picked.
-
Mr. Estrella has been to see me in my office 32 times since September--mostly just to talk. Every conversation ends like this:
"Pues. No se, Anita. Adios"
(And then, he punches my stuffed bear in the face)
"Estrella! Mi oso! Me PresciOso!"
"It's ugly oso."
And so it goes. I am pleased with a pun in my sencond language, and he is pleased with his insult to a bear I was given that was found in a dumpster.
-
Mr. Estrella got a job painting, which I could tell before he told me. He was covered in it. When he got paid, he bought me three bags of gummy bears. He had never had them before. I gave him some.
"Anita! They are so delicious! I love them! I love them with all of my heart, Anita!"
-
I looked in every drawer until I found calling card that would work for calls outside of the country. Mr. Estrella has not talked to his mother in a year. There is five minutes left on the calling card, but she never answers. Today, Estrella cried.
-
Estrella came into my office last week with a string of spanish exclamations that came a little too fast. All I could catch was "Your teacher! Sooo nice! She is going to call!" And then he went to work. An hour later, I answered the phone:
"Anna? Hi! It's Rachel! Your 3rd grade teacher! I met your friend Juan, and I want to give him a Bible in Spanish. Can I drop it off to you?"
She did, and Estrella carries it with him everywhere he goes now. He said he "looks at it every night".
-
Mr. Estrella looks like Paulie, the native-american/phillipino-looking-19-going-on-11-kid-with-a-dutch-last-name. They both have drinking problems, but Estrella pointed out one very important difference:
"Him, man's body, boy's mind. Me, mind and body both match."
-
Estrella says after he gets paid next, he will move. He says he has no family here, and that his 7 different supposed wives don't count. "Nobody is sad when I am sad" he says. He thinks he will go to New York.
He told me that he was not going to say goodbye.
I asked him why.
He answered in Spanish, and the best translation I could come up with was:
"For the sake of the bear."
30 October 2009
Beer and Clothing in Las Vegas
Chuck and George sobered up long enough to put on Hawaiian shirts and pack their duffle bags with something useful (which, according to Chuck, means socks and a comb). They're going to Las Vegas.
They made a huge show the entire last week they were here. They ceremoniously gave the rights to their locker (and the rights to paying for it) to lockerless friends. They asked to have a laminated copy of my business card for emergency purposes. They began willing all of their empty bottles and sweaters and half-used deoderants to the noble patrons of our 2nd floor, with all of the dignity and honor of soldiers called to a higher duty. In Las Vegas.
George does it every year--travels far and wide to get people to sign petitions. This year, he invited his favorite comrade in cockeyed crime, Chuck. According to him, Las Vegas ran out of their own homeless dudes to employ. George is actually quite a talented petitioner--when he's sober, he has a nice, polite demeanor, soft voice, good sense of humor and a kind smile. I'd sign his petition. Chuck hasn't strung 4 coherent words together in a week or so. I think he thinks he's going to Las Vegas so that he can sign petitions. But Chuck 'n George have hopelessly fallen into shameless and unconditional bromance, and the honeymoon's in Las Vegas.
Yesterday, they walked out with their bags shouting things like "Goodbye Neverland!" and "Chuck has left the building" (before they left the building). I don't know how they got to the airport, but they called from Las Vegas today:
"We're here! Chucks got beer all over his shirt and he thinks it's so funny. It's sunny here! And we got our first day of work off!"
They made a huge show the entire last week they were here. They ceremoniously gave the rights to their locker (and the rights to paying for it) to lockerless friends. They asked to have a laminated copy of my business card for emergency purposes. They began willing all of their empty bottles and sweaters and half-used deoderants to the noble patrons of our 2nd floor, with all of the dignity and honor of soldiers called to a higher duty. In Las Vegas.
George does it every year--travels far and wide to get people to sign petitions. This year, he invited his favorite comrade in cockeyed crime, Chuck. According to him, Las Vegas ran out of their own homeless dudes to employ. George is actually quite a talented petitioner--when he's sober, he has a nice, polite demeanor, soft voice, good sense of humor and a kind smile. I'd sign his petition. Chuck hasn't strung 4 coherent words together in a week or so. I think he thinks he's going to Las Vegas so that he can sign petitions. But Chuck 'n George have hopelessly fallen into shameless and unconditional bromance, and the honeymoon's in Las Vegas.
Yesterday, they walked out with their bags shouting things like "Goodbye Neverland!" and "Chuck has left the building" (before they left the building). I don't know how they got to the airport, but they called from Las Vegas today:
"We're here! Chucks got beer all over his shirt and he thinks it's so funny. It's sunny here! And we got our first day of work off!"
23 October 2009
Mr. Youell's World of Illusions
"This world, this just don't make no sense. Everything that's happening, all this Halloween, all this rain and storm, all this up in here, it seem like it's not even happening. Seems like it's an illusion--all a crazy crazy illusion where nothin's real and everything's just floating and I can see right through. Like this table. I pound this table and I pound this table and I think I's going to go right through it every time--like my hand will fly right through to the floor. It's all not right and it's all not fair, because everyone else is gettin' away with murder, like they's livin' in a real world but they don't even know it, and they's actin' like nothing'll happen, like nobody'll die, like nobody'll get hurt or nothin' even if they slam they head against a wall. It aint' goin' right through like they think it will, it's gon' stop and hit. It just don't make no sense... don't make no sense..."
20 October 2009
Exodus
"If we could just remember those damn commandments, this place would be f***ing harmonious."
-A man who recently contracted an STD to a women whose man was in jail for larceny.
-A man who recently contracted an STD to a women whose man was in jail for larceny.
08 October 2009
Emergency Contacts
In our office, we have a phone line that is connected to our staff, and also a phone line that is connected to an answering machine with the following message:
"This is an answering service that serves to take messages for many people. Please leave your name, the name of the person you wish to reach, your number, and a brief message, and it will be given to them."
Anyone can use this number to recieve messages from employers, doctor's offices or worried mothers if they do not have a phone of their own. We recieve a wide variety of messages on this line such as...
"Thanks for making me waste a mother f***ing 50 cents. I want to talk to a real f***ing person."
"Hi... um... this is Tasha... I was calling to let Grant Carrol know that he was a father."
"Anna Gretz this is your Grandma. I don't know if I called the right number for you but I was wondering if you would like to come over for dinner tonight."
and the message that we recieved yesterday: "Hello, this is Dave, and I'm calling on behalf of Derek Jordan... you might know him as 'R&B'. He was working for me today on some painting and he... well, he fell off the building. We were trying to contact someone, and this is the number he left for emergencies. Call me back if you can, my number is 5..."
My co-worker and I listened to the message about 5 times, asking other people for 2nd opinions, trying to get the number that Dave left to contact him. Of course we know R&B! And we were scared for his life. I tried at least half of the millions of possible combinations of seven numbers beginning with a 5 asking for Dave, but never got through. Our afternoon was ruined with visions of R&B in a coma (splattered with paint).
Later in the afternoon Derek R&B Jordan waltzed onto the floor, cleaned up (and clean shaven) with all his limbs and faculties intact (which is how he prefers it, thank you very much). There was an immediate spontaneous outburst of gratitude for his life, prompting confusion from R&B.
"What? What's the deal."
"R&B we thought you were dead!"
"I fell off a building."
"We know!"
"How'd you know?"
"Dave called!"
"Dave? Oh... he called you guys? That was real nice. Because you guys are all I've got. This is home base, you know? This is where my stuff's at. This is where my people's at. Who else would I call?"
(We suggested the staff phone number instead of the message line.)
"This is an answering service that serves to take messages for many people. Please leave your name, the name of the person you wish to reach, your number, and a brief message, and it will be given to them."
Anyone can use this number to recieve messages from employers, doctor's offices or worried mothers if they do not have a phone of their own. We recieve a wide variety of messages on this line such as...
"Thanks for making me waste a mother f***ing 50 cents. I want to talk to a real f***ing person."
"Hi... um... this is Tasha... I was calling to let Grant Carrol know that he was a father."
"Anna Gretz this is your Grandma. I don't know if I called the right number for you but I was wondering if you would like to come over for dinner tonight."
and the message that we recieved yesterday: "Hello, this is Dave, and I'm calling on behalf of Derek Jordan... you might know him as 'R&B'. He was working for me today on some painting and he... well, he fell off the building. We were trying to contact someone, and this is the number he left for emergencies. Call me back if you can, my number is 5..."
My co-worker and I listened to the message about 5 times, asking other people for 2nd opinions, trying to get the number that Dave left to contact him. Of course we know R&B! And we were scared for his life. I tried at least half of the millions of possible combinations of seven numbers beginning with a 5 asking for Dave, but never got through. Our afternoon was ruined with visions of R&B in a coma (splattered with paint).
Later in the afternoon Derek R&B Jordan waltzed onto the floor, cleaned up (and clean shaven) with all his limbs and faculties intact (which is how he prefers it, thank you very much). There was an immediate spontaneous outburst of gratitude for his life, prompting confusion from R&B.
"What? What's the deal."
"R&B we thought you were dead!"
"I fell off a building."
"We know!"
"How'd you know?"
"Dave called!"
"Dave? Oh... he called you guys? That was real nice. Because you guys are all I've got. This is home base, you know? This is where my stuff's at. This is where my people's at. Who else would I call?"
(We suggested the staff phone number instead of the message line.)
02 October 2009
Free
I have met people who believe in and live on the idea that everything that you need and want in life you can get for free... if you talk to the right people, if you jump through the right hoops, if you present the right argument. This concept is completely foreign to me.
When I first began doing referrals, I was presented with (to me) the strangest requests: Where can I get free tennis shoes? Can you get a free bike? I need some free furniture... clothing... cell phone... medical care... housing... groceries... TV. A free TV? Come on. You guys. You can't get free TV's. I've been here for a while, and if you could get TV's and cell phones for free, I would know.
But you can.
If you have a caseworker at the DHS, you can receive a referral for everything you need to fill your house for free.
If you don't currently have an income, you can get a card that allows you to get $200 a month for groceries for free.
You can get clothing for free.
You can get new Patagonia shoes for free.
You can get a cell phone for free, and minutes every month for free.
You can get a voucher that will pay your rent every month for free.
You can receive checks from the government every month for free.
Free....
But there things aren't really free--they are paid for by someone else. (Really? Yes.) And that bit of information is about as foreign to the population I work with than the "Economy of Free" is to me. These things don't just ... not cost anything. They are paid for, worked for, and Given. But to those who receive them, they are not Given, just Received.
This could be frustrating.
I have tried to explain this system to many of the people receiving assistance from my desk.
"This is not a piece of paper that waives the fee for your police report. This is a check for $6.00, made out the the Grand Rapids Police Department, paid for you by someone who doesn't even know you--they gave up $6.00 so you could have it... and have the opportunity to attain housing."
Or.
This could be the purest form of giving possible, going unrecognized.
When you give, you often Give-Because. You give because you want to know that you are making a different, because you want to make the world better, because you want to know others are happier and taken care of and still alive because of you. Because of you. You get this feeling, this wonderful feeling that you have done good. Now, I believe this is great--that this feeling is God-given and there is no guilt in wanting to desire it.
But what if you Just-Gave. You just gave money and time and resources because that's what people do, and you did not see or know or even consider the outcome. Or maybe you didn't even give, you just lived, and there was a small bit of money that was silently and subtly detracted from each of your paychecks--transformed into something that benefited someone else. You didn't get any satisfaction, and no one felt indebted.
Taxes?
Now, I'm not saying that this is always used in the best way possible, or even used responsibly, but it could be, and it sometimes is, and if we transformed this bitterness and submitted this to God, how would this look different?
Would we feel liberated?
Would we be free?
When I first began doing referrals, I was presented with (to me) the strangest requests: Where can I get free tennis shoes? Can you get a free bike? I need some free furniture... clothing... cell phone... medical care... housing... groceries... TV. A free TV? Come on. You guys. You can't get free TV's. I've been here for a while, and if you could get TV's and cell phones for free, I would know.
But you can.
If you have a caseworker at the DHS, you can receive a referral for everything you need to fill your house for free.
If you don't currently have an income, you can get a card that allows you to get $200 a month for groceries for free.
You can get clothing for free.
You can get new Patagonia shoes for free.
You can get a cell phone for free, and minutes every month for free.
You can get a voucher that will pay your rent every month for free.
You can receive checks from the government every month for free.
Free....
But there things aren't really free--they are paid for by someone else. (Really? Yes.) And that bit of information is about as foreign to the population I work with than the "Economy of Free" is to me. These things don't just ... not cost anything. They are paid for, worked for, and Given. But to those who receive them, they are not Given, just Received.
This could be frustrating.
I have tried to explain this system to many of the people receiving assistance from my desk.
"This is not a piece of paper that waives the fee for your police report. This is a check for $6.00, made out the the Grand Rapids Police Department, paid for you by someone who doesn't even know you--they gave up $6.00 so you could have it... and have the opportunity to attain housing."
Or.
This could be the purest form of giving possible, going unrecognized.
When you give, you often Give-Because. You give because you want to know that you are making a different, because you want to make the world better, because you want to know others are happier and taken care of and still alive because of you. Because of you. You get this feeling, this wonderful feeling that you have done good. Now, I believe this is great--that this feeling is God-given and there is no guilt in wanting to desire it.
But what if you Just-Gave. You just gave money and time and resources because that's what people do, and you did not see or know or even consider the outcome. Or maybe you didn't even give, you just lived, and there was a small bit of money that was silently and subtly detracted from each of your paychecks--transformed into something that benefited someone else. You didn't get any satisfaction, and no one felt indebted.
Taxes?
Now, I'm not saying that this is always used in the best way possible, or even used responsibly, but it could be, and it sometimes is, and if we transformed this bitterness and submitted this to God, how would this look different?
Would we feel liberated?
Would we be free?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)