A jumble of thoughts

I hope you come to find that which gives life a deep meaning for you...something worth living for, maybe even worth dying for...something that energizes you, enthuses you, enables you to keep moving ahead. I can't tell you what it might be -- that's for you to find, to choose, to love. I can just encourage you to start looking, and support you in the search.

This quote is an excerpt from a letter written by Ita Ford, one of the four churchwomen martyred in El Salvador on December 2, 1980. I suppose this reflection is a bit late, given that it's December 15... but I've been sitting with those words this month, unable to quite articulate what I'm thinking... here is my jumbled attempt--

For our spirituality night (that fell closer to the anniversary of the deaths of Ita Ford, Jean Donovan, Maura Clarke, and Dorothy Kazel) we watched the documentary Roses in December, which focuses on Jean Donovan. I'd seen this documentary before, read Ita's letter before, and commemorated this anniversary before. For some reason though, this time it felt different.

I feel humbled remembering their lives, and find myself amidst countless questions. What am I doing in Tucson? What am I doing in this moment? My job right now is case manager-- and is perhaps equal parts fulfilling, frustrating, and overwhelming. Who am I to tell people what to do? Who am I even to suggest things? So many of the men and women I am working with have experienced so much more than I have.

My supervisor and another volunteer/staff-ish person are reading John McKnight's "The Careless Society: Community and its Counterfeits" (chances of me adequately explaining his argument- slim. click the link to check it out), which articulates well the ways in which professionalized services (ie health care, case management, counseling, etc) can detract from communities. Professionalized services often times do the opposite of empower... they shuffle people along from appointment to appointment, supply them with medications, and give them schedules. They supposedly prepare people to become more self sufficient. In reality though, they treat people as the problem and ignore the environment. I cannot tell you how many of the men and women I work with are on medication, or have a history of self medication (aka drug/alcohol abuse)... my thought is this- maybe the problem is not so much each person, but rather their lifestyle and environment. Living in a shelter with 99 other men and without community is an overwhelming reality. Day after day they put one foot in front of another, working to get their basic needs covered, but are seldom reminded or given the time and space to acknowledge that they are more than those needs.

We're only in the middle of the book, and so perhaps it's most appropriate that at this point it has left me with many more questions than answers. Or rather, that the only answer I can see -- that people should not be reduced to basic needs and that people need genuine community -- is not easily navigated.

A few weeks ago (? - I often lose track of time here) I found myself in the park by our house, speaking with someone who is both a participant and a neighbor, and I feel overwhelmed and inadequate, but also grateful that she is sharing her story with me, and I find small but genuine hope our conversation. For all of my uncertainty about my job here, that moment felt right.

I feel like I am only at the beginning of understanding so many things... and I encounter so many pieces throughout my days. My clues are these: joy I feel sharing a meal with my housemates after a long day, dance parties with our friends, the vulnerability and tears of participants and friends... moments of liberation.

Perhaps it does not so much matter what I am doing in Tucson, but that the people I have encountered and the reality of the desert and the border are teaching me so much.

I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains, I looked to the children, I drank from the fountain. There's more than one answer to these questions, pointing me in crooked line.
The less I seek my source for some definitive- the closer I am to fine. [Indigo Girls]

{Wall in Tucson}