back to the city

1/11/09

I went to the city today.

I was excited to go... until I got there... and I realized I didn't want to be there.

You know what I mean? You think you know what you want, or who you want, then you get what you want (or who you want), and you realize you don't want what you thought you wanted (or who you thought you wanted).

It's a pretty hot mess.

God has taught me that a few times... that I don't really know what I want. And every dag-gum time He is right... I don't.

Time and time again He has shown me that He knows me... better than I know myself.

So back to the city.

I thought I wanted to go... until I got there... and I realized I was tired, and I didn't feel like talking to people... and I just wanted to go home. I wanted to crawl in my bed and curl up under my covers. I wanted to sleep. And dream. And be happy. At least for a few hours.

I've never been much of a power napper. I wish I was... I would probably get a lot more done, only sleeping for 20 minutes and then getting on with my day.

No, I'm more of an hour napper than a power napper. And when I say "an hour," I really mean 2... at least. Yea, a good nap is at least two hours for me. Anything under that and I get cranky.

Don't get me wrong, if I could actually get up after 20 minutes I would probably (like most people say) be more energized and stuff... but I just can't do it. It's so... un-fulfilling.

So back to the city.

I sat on the stairs inside of Union Station and I listened to a new friend tell me and a few others about where his travels in the military had taken him... and I just sat there... and as selfish as it sounds... all I could think was "I don't want to be here."

As I have stated in the past, there is a group of us who go into the city every Sunday to hang out with people who have become our friends, and very much a part of our lives, who are in fact homeless, some of them alcoholics, and even drug addicts. Sometimes they are sober when we see them. Sometimes they aren't. Either way we love them, and we love to see them.

As I'm sure many of you know, from your own situations or circumstances, it is hard to see someone you love outwardly express their inner hurts by escaping the present moment, which in the long run doesn't help them at all, but only prolongs the pain and creates a cycle...

a seemingly impossible cycle to break free from...

the cycle of addiction.



But back to the city...

I started to wonder why I had even come. I started to analyze my every thought and wonder what in the world I was even thinking.

"What are my motives? Why am I here? Do I actually care about these people? Why do I feel like I don't care? Why do I not care? Why do I not want to talk to anybody today? What time is it? Can we say we need to leave early?"

Even while wondering these things, I know that deep down (somewhere very deep today) I love do them. I do care about them. I don't care about them today, but I do love them.

You know how you have those days? Days when you just don't care? You don't care about other people because you're trying hard not to care about the fact that you can't afford to pay your rent... or your phone bill. Or you totalled your car and can't afford to get a new one so you have to figure out how to get to work without your closest friends thinking you are using them. Or your hours got cut from a job that is not even all that satisfying to begin with, but none the less, you need the money to pay the rent that you can't afford.

Do you know what I am talking about? When your mind is just cluttered? Plum full of everything but the very people around you.

It's a pretty hot mess.



So back to the city.

That's where I was today... well, yes, I was in the city, but while in the city, I was in my head... not caring about the people around me, because I was trying to figure out how to pay my rent... and my phone bill. And how I was going to get to work tomorrow without burdening someone else. And how long I would have to continue bumming rides before I could afford a car. And how I could maybe work more doubles so I could get more hours, even though I feel slightly dead the longer I work there.

So back to the city.

I had no energy and was feeling discouraged.

And then something happened.

But in order to tell you what happened, I need to tell you a story...




Back in November we had a Thanksgiving dinner in the back room of Giordanno's (downtown Chicago) for and with our "homeless" friends that we get to see every Sunday.

I won't make any disclaimers about myself, or maybe that was one, but I will say that I have been known to not necessarily think through my actions sometimes. If someone says "I dare you," I say "how much?"

So at this Thanksgiving dinner, of which we sat with friends who were homeless and didn't often get to eat, a friend dared me to chew up this big hot pepper for at least 20 seconds (which in my mind, means spit it out when you are done) and she said she'd pay me.

Now... this is a no brainer for me... I mean, come on... chew a pepper... pleeease... that's child's play... but I wasn't going to say that. I asked how much she'd give me if I'd do it.

I was hoping she'd say five dollars... but she said twenty dollars!


HOLY CRAP! JACKPOT!

Seriously... I thought that in capital letters... but I wasn't going to say that.

Before beginning (as any good daree knows) I asked to see the twenty dollars.

Mind you, we are sitting around homeless people while talking about chewing up food and spitting it out... for money.

Unfortunately this thought did not occur to me as I had already started to chew when my friend began counting... one (one thousand), two (one thousand)... and so on and so on... and as soon as she hit twenty (one thousand), I grabbed a plate and spit out the pepper, along with some saliva that had accumulated with the pepper juice.

My friends clapped, but still looked slightly disappointed...

"Ah man, I should have said you had to eat the whole thing," said the darer.

Feeling slightly threatened and the need to entertain, I got on it right away...

"what? You want me to eat it? I'll eat it, I don't care..."

and with that I licked the pepper back up that I had just spit out on the plate... along with my saliva that had accumulated with the pepper juice.

They cheered and my ego was content. She handed me the twenty dollars and I proudly held it up and waved it in the air... "I just won twenty dollars!"

It took me about two seconds after yelling that out to the whole room to realize what I had just said.



I just yelled out that I won a twenty dollar bill and waved it in the air at a party for homeless people.

This is where Bill Engvall of Blue Collar Comedy says, "here's your sign!"


I mean, seriously, that was just... stupid! And when I say stupid, I mean ignorant. And when I say ignorant, I mean just flat out rude.

I crouched back down in my seat, looked around and hoped for the first time that not too many people were listening to me. My friends were laughing hysterically at my embarrassment, but I was scoping out the rest of the room to make sure none of the "homeless people" were watching, so as not to offend them.

Luckily I took on this dare during dinner, so most people were busy eating and didn't witness my ignorant cash money exposure.

Other than that, the rest of the evening was amazing... we sat around and told stories and cheesy jokes. We played the guitar while some the harmonica, we danced, we clapped. We just did life... together... there in that little back room of Giordanno's Pizza. It was just a sweet sweet time that I don't think I will ever forget.



Now we fast forward to the week after our Thanksgiving pizza dinner...

a usual group of us are walking around union station looking for some of our friends, and I happen to see the girl who heads up our group talking to a man sitting on one of the big, long brown benches. I had just seen someone I knew she wanted to see, so as I walked past I motioned to her that someone she would want to see was on the other side of the station.

I noticed that as I walked past her, the man she was talking to was angry. Not just angry... he was pissed. He was yelling, and I maybe would have gone over there if she was by herself, but she had someone with her, so I just kept walking. She kind of even gave me a look like "just keep walking."

"I wonder what his problem is," I thought to myself...

and went about the rest of my day enjoying the company of those I met with.


You see, the Lord has quite the sense of humor, because as I found out from those who had talked to the man with "the problem"...

I was his problem.


"Me?" I thought, "what the crap did I do?"

My friend brings up Thanksgiving and my heart drops. I know exactly what she is talking about. She said that he was so offended by what I did, he got up and left without saying goodbye to anybody.

I had no idea. I had no idea he saw. I had no idea I offended him. I had no idea he left.

I thought I got off scotch free... but as it turns out, someone's always watching... and he was.


The man's name is Darryl, and he sits in the same spot in Union Station almost every day.

That day that I walked past him ranting and raving to my friend about something... he was ranting and raving about how I had offended him. Talk about humbling.

I say humbling because you can be the class clown, or the dare devil, or the circus performer, and wow people or make them laugh, and that's great... but one thing you need to know is... you can't please em' all. Someone is going to be offended. Someone is going to think you're not funny. Someone is just simply not going to be wowed by you. You can't win em' all. And you know what? That's OK.

There were people there who thought what I did was funny, or crazy, or just plain stupid, which even that I am OK with, but Darryl was none of the above. He was simply unimpressed and highly offended.

Now, yes, on the one hand I felt really embarrassed. But on the other, I had to show myself some grace, because I knew my heart and I knew my intentions, and I knew I did not mean to offend anybody.

None the less, I offended Darryl and I was afraid to talk to him after that. In fact I didn't even go near him (for weeks)...


until today...


which is the something that happened.



So back to the city.

In an attempt to break out of my funk, I thought maybe I would try to talk to Darryl. For some reason, though I didn't feel like making an effort with anyone else, I felt like making an effort with Darryl.

Darryl sat in his usual spot and my heart pounded as I walked toward him. I had been wanting to apologize to him for a while, but there is something slightly intimidating about approaching a rather large African American man, who you managed to offend just a little over a month ago. (And no, color does not matter... I'm just painting the picture, so bear with me... for those of you who wonder why I have to bring up his color... I don't... I just like detail.)

I walk towards him and he has the grumpiest look on his face. I can feel him staring me down, but I just keep walking. My fists are clinched, and I let God know that I really need his help... and strength.

"Lord, come with me, I'm really nervous. Please keep walking towards him, because I can't. I'd rather hide and not worry about it. Lord, please help me."

As I get closer, I let him know I am going to approach him by waving in a sort of "I come in peace" kind of way.

He looks angry. I keep walking.

He notices me wave and looks behind him, as if he is wondering why I would be waving at him. I come up and sit down next to him...

"are you Darryl?"

He hits pause on his disc man and says yes but looks straight ahead instead of looking at me.

"Hi, I'm JJ, and I don't know if you remember me, but..."

He interrupts, "yea I remember you! I remember you from that party!"

"Oh good, cause actually that was what I wanted to talk to you about... my behavior that day... at the party. I know that you were offended by what I did, and I just wanted to let you know that I was sorry..."

He seems surprised, yet is still sarcastic (as if he's trying not to appreciate the fact that I am apologizing)... "that's alright, at least you got some money out of it... and some poor taste!"

I look down and kind of smile, but not in a proud way, in a way that says I know I have to not just say I am sorry, I have to let him know that I really mean it.

"You're right," I say, "what I did that day was stupid! I didn't even think about it, I just did it... and not that it's an excuse, but that's just how I am. I do stupid stuff... and I don't even know why. If someone dares me to do something, I'll do it, just like that! But I just want you to know that I didn't mean to offend you and that I really am sorry. I hope you're not mad at me."

He looks at me and hesitates, then kind of smiles, "nah, I'm mad at you. It's OK. I can't hate you forever. I was mad that day, but now that you've come talk to me, I'm not mad at you. And what you did wasn't stupid..."

I start to feel better, till he keeps talking, "it was immature!"

My face turns red, but I laugh a little bit, "OK, OK, I get it, I know, but I'm telling you... that's how I am!"


At this point Darryl is curious and tells me about shows he used to watch when he was younger about people who would pay contestants to do crazy things like eat bugs or drink goldfish. He looks at me and smiles, "so what else have you done? Tell me some of your stories!"

And thus begins our conversation that lasted most of the day.

The man who was offended by the dare I accepted now wants to hear all about other dares I have accepted that have offended other people. He tells me he used to love those dare shows and he even encourages me to make money that way since I'm willing to eat bugs and stuff, because apparently not too many people are (he's obviously not an avid watcher of Fear Factor or Survivor).

He asks me "what's the most amount you've ever made on a dare?" And I tell him.... twenty dollars... the very dare that is the reason we are sitting there talking...

which makes me think about how I can make it up to him for missing out on the rest of Thanksgiving dinner.

I tell him I want to make it up to him by giving him the money I won from that dare. I shouldn't have accepted it anyway. And I shouldn't have been so proud to show it.

Normally, we never give out money when we go to the city, it's actually kind of an unwritten rule... but I always seem to "accidentally" find a way to break the rules. I pull a $20 bill out of my pocket and put it in his hands. I told him I hope it didn't offend him, but he smiles... I mean... what homeless man is going to be offended when you hand him twenty dollars?

Darryl is a good guy. Do I know him well enough to know what he will do with twenty dollars? No. I don't. But I know he loves cheeseburgers and pizza, he doesn't like guys who drink, and he's been sober every time I've seen him. He listens to music a lot, so I think I will make him a CD, and he loves to take pictures. He actually has a really old Kodak camera that you still put the film in and wind, so we sat there while he showed me some of his pictures.

Before I left to go meet up with everyone else, I gave him a hug and I told him I would like to see him next week. He smiles and says "OK, yea, next week, I'll be here!"

After that I felt released from whatever funk I was in. I felt free, and I felt interested... interested in the people we were talking to and the lives we were investing in.

---------------------------------------

1/28/09


I love finding blogs that I never finished... it makes me wonder where my thought process was going to go next. I still don't know where my thought process is going to go, so I'll probably never figure out where that one went.

I do remember, however, that the rest of that day was amazing. After leaving Darryl, I went and met back up with everyone else up on the stairs. The rest of the time we laughed, sang, and even danced, a little. We caused quite a commotion but we were loving every minute of it.

In re-telling this story to another friend, she actually made me feel a little bit better about what happened at Thanksgiving dinner...

"I understand how you feel JJ, and I understand that he was offended, but on the other hand, I think it's kind of good... you were just being yourself... (chewing up, spitting out, then chewing up again a pepper for money) is something you would do without homeless people around and not feel bad about it. They got to see a side of you that you probably wouldn't have shown them in fear of offending them. They got to see the real you, not the you who has it all together and comes to the city once a week to visit... but the you who is goofy, and playful, and sometimes stupid! Sure, you offended Darryl, but it's OK, and he's OK. And now the two of you have a story to laugh at... all because you were being yourself!"



OK, she didn't say all of that, but she said some of it (I made up the rest cause I thought it sounded good... big fish)!



I haven't seen Darryl since then. To be honest, I don't think I have been back to the city since then. Life seems to always throw something my way which makes it easy to at stay home on a Sunday afternoon. And it's not that I want to be hard on myself for not having been back to the city, I can't do everything and be everywhere (and that is OK), but I do want to be aware of the feelings and emotions involved when I start investing in another person(s), and how it might affect them if I were to just disappear.

And so, I hope to go back soon... and for the sake of this blog I wish I could proudly type that I will be there on Sunday, but to be honest, I don't know.

I just don't know... and not even entirely because of my schedule.




I just don't know because...

sometimes when I invest in people, I realize it doesn't just affect them... it affects me... and that scares me.

It scares me to care so much. It scares me to commit. And as much as I boast about LOVE, LOVE, LOVE... it scares me to love... because love hurts. And with love, there are no guarantees!




And sitting here re-reading everything I just wrote, I realize... I don't want to live my life based on guarantees (though I'm prone to do so)... that's really no fun at all... or even a life for that matter.


And though I was hoping to have ended this before now, I guess this realization can really only mean one thing...

so...





back to the city!