Baltimore: The Heart of the Homeless

Yesterday is one of the first cold days at church in the park in Baltimore City.  It’s both chilly and damp, a taste of what is to come in the next several months.  I grab a blanket from my trunk and wrap it around my shoulders.  Hannah is wearing a Patagonia jacket, vans or Chuck Taylors, short socks and bare ankles.  She looks colder than I am, but says she is fine.  After t an hour and a half, Hannah and I are talking with a few friends from the other side of town. One of the men comments how cold Hannah looks and offers to get her a coat from his trunk.Joe, a friend and one of the park residents, living in a tent next to I-83, is bundled in a jacket he just received, removing the tags just a few minutes before.  He smiles when we comment how nicely it matches his sweater.  Joe is telling us about a potentially dangerous encounter he had over the weekend with an acquaintances living in a nearby tent.This was followed by a premonition about being beaten and ending up in the hospital.   He said he resigned himself to praying for strength to get through it, knowing it was out of his control.  With Joe refusing to engage, the situation abated.  I ask where the man is now and Joe said he warned him of someone looking to hurt him so he left the area. Finally deciding it’s time to go home, Joe walks us to my car.  I have a size XXXL sweatshirt from Wofford College that someone gave me in the bookstore.   I gave it to Joe who had a friend who had difficulty finding clothing in his size.  Giving Joe a hug and unlocking the car, Hannah slips off the jacket she was wearing and hands it to Joe.  I had assumed another friend had an extra and left it to Hannah.   Joe had taken off his jacket to put over Hannah's shoulders.  I looked at him surprised, not recognizing the jacket as his.“That’s what my parents raised me to do,” he says as he puts in back on and with a wave, strolls back into the park.

Rebuilding Baltimore 1 soul at a time

Two weeks ago, Church in the Park's worship group was entirely different faces, few smiles... little interaction.
Usually a warm and familiar group, arms over shoulders, conversations whispered too loud, this group  was unusually quite and somber  Our Pastor and his wife were away, most regular attendees were absent and prayer was led by another group member
Two in the group, who were usually swaying on a bench, heads almost to the ground, drugged or in pain or both were held up by their friends, filling in an arc of the circle.  Periodically one would sway  to the center with her hair  almost dragging on the ground.  We continued to worship around her, wondering if she would eventually fall over.

I wondered what made them join us on that day. Their surroundings were destroyed and they were still under curfew with no were to go.  It was hot and I'm sure they were thirsty.  I started to imagine our circle expanding; lining the perimeter of the fence, every other person holding up another next to them and then I knew that was the beginning of our finest hour.

Why do we televise violence and bury beauty?

This is what didn't make the Baltimore news...


I WANT WHAT THIS GUY HAS!

It's not about religion...or service or righteousness.
It's not about homelessness, joblessness or poverty.
It's about the choice to deny apathy, fearfulness, and self-interest.

If you feel inconsequential after watching the news,..do something...pass this on!
And join us when you can. It's will be the most empowering event of your week.

Sundays in the park 9-11 am at the corner of President and Fayette Street
(If you don't live in Baltimore....I bet you have a park)


Hope from the Homeless

DO SOMETHING

Childrens' cloths

Hello my friends!
This week I am looking for clothing  a father caring for 4 children
Boys:
Dominick (3 yrs) - any 4T clothing.
Zamari (3 yrs)  3T clothing,  10 1/2 shoes

Girls:
Teekeva (4 yrs)  4T clothing (in kindergarten)
Sevyn (almost  2) - 2T clothing

pants, shirts, dresses, tights, PJ's, socks, coats, mittens, gloves and hats

If anyone has or knows someone with young children outgrowing the above sizes and would like to pass them on, please let me know.
Also, any toys for these ages would also be great!

And as usual:  Books of all kinds, primarily adult, including dictionaries and school books for GED studying are always put to good use.   Hot topics, Mystery, Autobiography and biography, Bibles, self help, sports (magazines - health, sports, excluding lacrosse, people, nat'l geographic)

Thanks!!!

A Rose by Any Other Name Couldn't Smell This Sweet

Several months after joining Church in The Park I became concerned about a park resident named Timothy.   I’d been “putting myself out there” and building relationships, as any newcomer would do.  I had successfully engaged with people through piles of books I brought most Sundays.  I always asked those who seemed interested if there were genres or authors they would enjoy.  Timothy, who sat with a few more talkative men, was not impolite, but would not look at me and spoke very little.   He never joined the prayer circle, only sat on a bench and watched us.  I was concerned I was making him uncomfortable, which was certainly not my intention.  

I expressed this concern to the Pastor’s wife who said Timothy previously challenged her on her beliefs and may not agree with what this Church stood for.   Because I was not a pastor and much less spiritually literate than the other “non-park residents”, I always made a point not to talk about religion unless it was initiated by another, and then, would only share where my journey with Christ has taken me .  If someone asked for prayer, I grabbed someone who could speak to their needs more eloquently than I.  Because of this, I was more concerned that it was something I was doing.

One day, when prayer requests were made, I asked them to pray for me.  Specifically for understanding of the park residents and wisdom to find what talents I could bring to the table each Sunday.    The prayer team is vigilant in giving every person everything they’ve got, and is often praying  long after my mind had gone elsewhere.  On this particular day, I sensed someone standing in front of me.   I opened my eyes as Timothy placed a small bottle of water with a single red rose, still in the plastic wrapping, in my hands. Then, he walked away.  Timothy had no way of hearing what prayers were given to me that day,  as I had difficulty hearing them myself and they were right next to me. 

I took a picture of the rose in full bloom later that week, sitting in the only bottle this man probably had.  Using the picture as a thank you card I told Timothy I had no idea what his relationship with God was or if he even believed in God, but it was very clear to me that God used him to send a very significant message. 

Sundays in the Park through the eyes of an 18 year old

The corner of Fayette and President Street is a hell for many people.  For me, it's starting to feel more like heaven. Some call it “Tent City,” others call it the “Church in the Park.” The people I most look forward to seeing call it home. It is a common gathering area for the homeless men and women of Baltimore City, and one that I visit every Sunday. I swap hugs  with men and women from all kinds of diverse backgrounds. Drug addicts, recovering alcoholics, and felons are living with veterans, ministers and abuse victims.  It’s not pretty and the stories are sad, but I keep going back.

 My Mother and I started attending “Church in the Park” when I was in eleventh grade after experiencing upheaval in what I considered a  normal life. We moved twice in three months, and the transition was difficult. I had not yet come to terms with the death of my best friend from a few years back and was not sure I was ready to take on any one else’s problems.  I was nervous. What if they resented me? What would I talk about? Could I trust them? I didn’t think my private school upbringing prepared me for this type of interaction.  What I was least prepared for, though, was realizing these people were some of the easiest people to talk to that I had ever met.  This gave me a sense of contentment that I didn’t know I had been missing.

My Sundays became filled with Sissy’s coffee, Panera bagels,  prayer, and most importantly new relationships.  Not only did they not resent me, they missed me when I was gone.  And I missed them.  The Church was not a traditional place of prayer, but a pavement with broken benches that made visitors feel welcome and cared for.  The benches provided a gathering place for exchanging stories or simply a way to feel connected just sitting there.

At the Church, I began to realize that life was bigger than my own personal struggles.  The fulfillment I got from exchanging jokes with a veteran who had served our country with honor was worth far more than anything money can buy. Enjoying his company and listening to his  stories not only made my day, but also showed me that helping others was something very important to me. Though it seemed like the Church members were turning to me for support, I was actually relying on them, and these experiences have changed my life.

In many ways the people in the park are considered less fortunate, but I realize I was fortunate to be able to relate with and learn from them.   They are just like me in the most basic, meaningful way and have given me the opportunity to better my life perspective. I have not only gained self-confidence in my ability to help others, but realized even the smallest selfless gesture can better my day and that of a stranger or a friend.