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.
