And So It Begins

Apologies to those of you who have read this in an e-mail. After sending and resending the same e-mail at least ten times last night, I thought this would be a bit more efficient to keep all that care updated on my summer.

We don't have internet connection in West End, so the updates might be sporadic at best. Regardless, I hope you enjoy.

I started work at the Joe Rush Center for Urban Missions, a program run by Urban Ministry, two weeks ago. For those of you who are still a little unsure what exactly it is I'm doing this summer, let me explain. Urban Ministry is a Methodist based ministry in West End, Alabama. West End is a municipality of Birmingham. It is the poorest municipality in the Birmingham area, only one in four households have a car, and 80 percent of released prisoners live there. All of that being said, Urban strives to help people in West End both in the short and long term. From a hot kitchen, to a community garden, to helping residents pay bills when life hasn't exactly worked out as they might have hoped, Urban Ministry is caring for the least of these just like ol' Jesus Christ calls us to do.

Anyone that gets off at the Birmingham Southern exit will tell you, "Don't turn right when you leave campus." Turning right leads to West End. Single mother homes, drugs, and violence are the way of life. Emergency sirens and screeching tires are the melody of the lullaby that soothes West End to sleep. Why is it this way? I think it's a mixture of things. It's partly a result of not being able to live in harmony with one another and white backlash from the Civil Rights era. I'll spare you all my tangent on that one. Mostly, however, it's a lack of love and grace. I have hope, though. Hope that better things are in store for West End and places like it. As Jim Wallis says, "History is most changed by social movements with a spiritual foundation."

My job will be working with the Joe Rush Center leading different groups in painting houses every week. The first week was spent training, receiving first aide and CPR certification, and painting a shed with John Carl and Michael. MIchael is a full-time employee at Urban who is a recovering drug addict and alcoholic. He just turned 64 and is full of life, love, and most profoundly grace. His stories, at times, are hard to listen to. After each one, I'm thankful to have heard it. It makes the situation in West End real to me.

This past week we had our first group. I didn't realize long it had been since I had been around a group of junior high students until their energy and attitudes became almost unbearable by the last night. My group worked hard for the most part. We completely repainted a house in two days. Painting houses all too often feels like we're just putting a Band-Aid over larger problems. I can only pray that a new clean exterior gives people hope. Hope is contagious, after all.

I found myself getting frustrated very quickly. The kids this week were blatantly disrespectful for everything and everyone but themselves. I was constantly wondering why they had even bothered to come. From pushing each other out of the way to be the first in line for dinner, to having no motivation on the job site, to talking about one another behind each other's backs, my frustration mounted as each day passed. I don't know that I was so much frustrated at them as I was the situation. I felt like everything I had said and done the past week had fallen on deaf ears and none of it really mattered.

Then, I not only began to question why they had come but why I had. I didn't come to Urban to paint a house every two days or even to try to instill compassion and servitude in young teens - though both are a great bonus. I came to give and receive grace and love. So what if the kids attitudes were terrible? That's my opportunity to love a little harder and show someone a little mercy and grace. Did I do that well this week? Not at all. In fact, I nicknamed one of the girls Queen Bitch in my head. She thought she was a queen. I thought she was a bitch. All of that aside, I can only hope they saw a little bit of Jesus in me, that I will be more freely giving of grace, mercy, and love next week, and that Ms. Bailey, as dilapidated as her house still is on the inside, now has a little bit of hope.

So what are the themes of this post? You got it. Love, hope, and grace. That's the theme of this post. That's the theme of the summer.

Love and peace to all of you!