PRoP Tales
The following are stories from people who have gone through the PRoP experience.
REFLECTIONS FROM MEMBERS OF HOLLADAY UNITED CHURCH OF CHRIST:
Nick Foutz
I can tell you from my personal experiences in Chicago that homeless people are hard to approach. It’s even harder on the other hand, to approach a person when you are homeless, or even just sort of pretending to be homeless. For me, it wasn’t a pleasant experience. In Chicago we got a good glimpse of being homeless. Still this was only a glimpse, and it was plenty to bite off and chew.
Usually when I have seen a homeless person, I’ve ignored them. When I have talked to them, it’s sad to say that I decorated my sentences to express my pompous superiority of being a middle-class citizen. Haven’t you? People do it all the time. Strong-morale’d people who have families and jobs do it. Does it make it ok? Is it far off to say that it’s normal? There was no gut-wrenching epiphany that told me it wasn’t ok. I didn’t hear any signs from God that gave me insight and empathy for the person I just told to get a job. Maybe I was listening to my i-pod or something.
Now why did I treat a homeless person like that? They don’t bite or have venomous fangs, (in fact I talked to a homeless man that have absolutely no teeth!) They don’t have a terminal disease that you’re going to catch.
It’s safe to say that they have a lot more to give than they take. I was grateful for a dollar burger at McDonalds. If I had $3 or 4 bucks, I would have been set for my day. Back here, I make that in half an hour. Half an hour of climate controlled good old safe gas authorizing at smiths. Panhandling is a job, believe it or not. It’s how people get the money to eat, not just booze or dope money. If you go panhandle for a day, tell me if you make 3 or 4 bucks. I doubt you will.
I gained a lot from talking to people. People with strong spiritualities and beliefs, some of the strongest I’ve seen. I’ve gotten a reality check on how people actually have to live. Most of all I learned how to treat a homeless person. Start with taking homeless off. Treat them like a person. People are people. The people we talked to were down to earth, living breathing people, just without houses
Jake Lindeman
The memory most engrained in my mind from my trip to Chicago is a conversation I had the second day I was in Chicago. Me and Annie and Haley were walking around downtown scheming on how to earn enough money to get into the Art institute and the top of the sears tower, when we met a middle aged homeless man one of the first that we had interacted with. We were asking him various questions, and we learned that he had been recently laid off by a large business due to the current economic situation. He went on to say the most hurtful thing that he has to go through is being told to get a job. He had told us the even earlier in the day a man yelled get a job. He said that he would thank god to get minimum wage job at macdonalds. He said that all he wants to do is work. But a job requires a phone and an address which are far off luxuries for the unemployed. I, as well everyone else on the trip, soon realized that these people have no way out. They get trapped in a cycle.
Haley Carlson
According to CSM the inner city it the fastest-growing multi-cultural, multi-lingual mission field in the world today. There is so much need in an area like this, and our youth group spent a week in Chicago doing our part to help those in need there. We did activities such as handing out sandwiches to homeless in downtown Chicago and tutoring children who were failing in school. But with all the people we helped, I think we were the ones who got the most out of this trip. After seeing such despair, and experiencing what it is like to be homeless and hungry for a day, we all learned valuable lessons, that we will never forget, and are life changing. As witnesses to Christ, it is our duty not to just have pity towards the less fortunate, but offer our help in any way we can. One thing I learned from this trip was that even a smile can brighten the day of someone who spends their life getting dirty looks and being invisible. One homeless man Annie, Jake, and I talked to sticks out in my memory. We gave him some change and showed him kindness, and he immediately opened up to us. Granted he had no teeth, and I could barely understand a word he said. This trip wasn’t just about serving the poor, but it was about getting closer to God. In proverbs it says “He who oppresses the poor shows contempt for their Maker, but whoever is kind to the needy honors God.”
Alanna Dolsen
Stop and enjoy the little things in life, many people say. I’m sure we have all heard this in some shape or form. If we stop the world, the larger than life world, from enjoying such comparatively small things as us, how does that benefit us? As people walked by us in Chicago, no one looked very happy. They walked too fast, seemed too tense, and had far too straight of faces. By becoming so introverted, many of the people we saw walking rapidly down the streets were missing the world. And that’s a funny thing to miss, because we live on it. YOu see, the world to me is not just land to build our houses on, it is an extension of living things. Because, by looking at our places in the world, we can tell who we are. But, other people cannot if we don’t allow them insight to our world, even a tiny glimpse. By not sharing ourselves, we condemn the world to become smaller and smaller. In Chicago, we met a man named Ronald who helped us expand our wolds by letting us see his. Contrary to what we expected, this man was one of the most joyful people I have ever met. As he showed us around Chicago, showed us his world, and how he lived, he interacted with everyone he saw, even if just by his huge smile. He looked, for all the world to see, like he was at the world’s biggest carnival. Maybe if we all looked like that, all were so willing to share our experiences, the world could broaden its’ horizons, like Chicago did for me. It can all start with just one person’s smile.
Danya Dolsen
When I embarked on the youth trip to Chicago, I expected to be changed by the end of it. This is the only thing in that ended up as I had expected.
I was in an unfamiliar place, and wearing ill fitting clothes, facing an entire day on the streets. But none of these things made me feel as threatened as the other people around me. The moment someone saw me sitting on the ground, asking for something (even something as small as a few spare coins) , they automatically treated me like I didn’t matter. They looked right past me, averted their eyes. Some even walked away from the sidewalk so they didn’t have to be close to me. They were afraid of a responsibility that people should embrace; helping others in their time of need.
Having nothing put my life in perspective. After a couple of days in this unfamiliar and harsh situation, I had the opportunity to turn on my cell phone. I received all my texts from the previous days, but hearing from my friends didn’t make me feel better like I thought it would. It made me realize that people are often miserable just because they are so occupied by their own lives, and they have nothing to focus on other than themselves and their small circle of friends. We should channel their energy into helping those who really need it instead of creating problems for ourselves. If we could all help each other, the world would be a much better place.
I don’t like to think of our community as a place in which a bunch of people just happen to exist together. We shouldn’t be rushing in opposite directions, ignoring our fellow human beings because we don’t have enough time to spare. We should always have time to spare for each other, time to bring up those who are down and build real relationships with the people around us. Even if someone is homeless, they are still human. Homelessness is not their identity, although we try to simplify matters and make it that way. On this trip, I learned that although homeless people do need money, food, water, and shelter, more than anything they need acknowledgment. Because regardless of what we’d like to believe, they are not invisible.
Jordan Foutz
When I first heard about us going to Chicago for our service trip, I knew two things: we were going to experience homelessness for ourselves and try and serve homeless people. The thought was that we were going to help homeless people. I never expected that while doing this the homeless would give so much more to me than I could ever give back to them. The first thing they gave me was a good amount of respect for what they have to go through.
When we were attempting being homeless for a day the first thing we had to worry about was getting food. It was the morning and we had no money, if we wanted to get food by lunch time we were going to have to ask someone or panhandle. I thought no big deal, we just have to jingle a cup of change for a little while, we’d get enough money for lunch and maybe dinner, then we could go experience other homeless activities. We tried and no one would even look at us. It got to a point where we weren’t even trying to get money anymore, all we wanted was to for someone to acknowledge we were even there. It felt like people didn’t even think you were human. I don’t know how homeless people deal with being ignored everyday and go on to live their lives, and for that I respect them and know that they are much stronger than most people.
The second thing that they taught me is never to look down on another human being again. Your average people wouldn’t even show signs that they knew we were there when we were panhandling, but without even asking homeless people would come and talk to us. They just wanted someone to talk to or laugh with. I wondered to myself, how do others simply ignore these people and go on with their lives? They were some of the kindest and most caring people. They were also the strongest in faith I’ve ever seen. No matter what they were going through or how tough they had it, they always said that god was there looking after them. When some of them panhandled us, just taking a minute to talk to them put a smile on their face and seemed to brighten their day. So after this trip I’ve always tried to give the panhandlers on the street a smile or greeting, ask them their name and how they’re doing. It doesn’t get them food in their belly or a roof over their head, but it’s just as important.
Other PRoP Tales
Paul, 2008
Street love and small acts of kindness
It was Saturday afternoon in the humid city of Philadelphia, the home of “brotherly love.” Sky scrapers gave ample shade from the scorching sun, cars honking and pigeons cooing polluted the city with noise, and the foot traffic was low due to the businessman’s weekend. After half-a-day of wandering the urine-soaked streets and mingling with the homeless, I found myself smack dab in the middle of the metropolis, on a mission. I came to Philly to better understand poverty and homelessness – by being homeless and penniless for the weekend – and to understand what Jesus truly meant by not worrying about what we will eat, drink, or wear (Matthew 6:31). I had no idea how much God was about to show me.
At around 1PM, all of the walking was taking its toll on me. I was sweaty and getting dehydrated, my feet were tired, and the breakfast I ate six hours ago was pretty much digested. I saw two options to ease my hunger: get food at a homeless shelter or panhandle. Being the adventurous (or maybe stupid) guy that I am, I chose to beg. With my pen in one pocket and my map of Philly in the other, I set off to find areas with the most foot traffic to get some money to fill my grumbling gut. At first, I stood outside a Shenanegin’s-style restaurant and humbly asked, “Can you spare some change?” again and again. What I got was no luck, and no recognition. The well-to-do tourists with their snobbish air seemed both deaf and blind to my requests.
Okay, asking didn’t work, I thought to myself. I slunk away pondering my next move. As I walked past a dumpster, a childhood image of Oscar the Grouch flashed into my mind, and I was reminded of the resourcefulness of dumpster diving. I pried open the green-city dumpster and a stench of fish guts and garbage water flooded my nostrils. I frantically scanned the can and saw what I needed: cardboard boxes! I quickly pulled one out and slammed the lid down, drowning out the horrible smell. Then I savagely ripped off a flat edge (my hunger was really kicking in) and scribbled, “HELP ME EAT” on it. Short, simple, and to the point. I figured people would trust that I’d use their money for food, not drugs, because I don’t look like a jobless, young-drug addicted punk (do I? People always tell me to cut my hair…).
I eventually plopped down in front of the Burlington Coat Factory, hoping some kind shoppers would have pity on me and give me some food or money to buy food. I sat there like a framed-portrait with only my steady eyes following the passer-bys. I was quiet, still, and had my “HELP ME EAT” sign in front of me, simply observing the people. But as I sat, and sat…and sat…nothing happened. No one gave me anything. No one approached me. Almost everyone ignored me, and the few that didn’t looked at me with either contempt or confusion. It’s amazing how asking strangers for money can so quickly change your view of human kindness. I must’ve sat on that gum-tattered sidewalk for nearly an hour, practically invisible to the Saturday-afternoon “mall-rats.” Every passer-by who ignored me was like a body-shot to the ole self-esteem. Micro-aggressions, they call them. They may not knock you out in one punch, but over time these body-shots will kill you.
A few moments later, I encountered the love of Jesus disguised as an older Puerto Rican woman. She was short, had a kind, Mother Teresa smile, and was humbly dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. With some grocery bags in hand and a purse on her shoulder, she stopped, looked at me, and then glanced down at my sign. “Are you really hungry?” she asked. My gut immediately lurched and screamed out “OF COURSE!” but my heart skipped a beat and I stayed silent. In this moment of silence, I pondered on her question, and realized what God was asking me: “Paul! What are you truly hungry for? This bread, or for ME?” It was like a spiritual lightbulb clicking on inside my head.
I was floored – both by this woman’s kindness and compassion, and by my lack of faith in my ONE true provider. God’s message was crystal clear: am I going to continue depending on worldly bread (i.e. my own provisions) or on heavenly bread (i.e. God’s provisions)? Does my treasure lie with God or with the flesh? I quickly snapped back to reality and gratefully told her, “Yes, I really am hungry.”
Her wrinkled hand reached into her grocery bag and she pulled out the plumpest peach I’ve ever seen. As I sunk my unbrushed teeth into that pink glob of sweetness, it tasted as if this very peach was grown by the angelic gardeners in the Garden of Eden. The woman, seeing my gratitude and satisfaction for the scrumptious snack smiled, gently patted me on the back, and asked, “Do you want another?” Maybe it was because of my Japanese American upbringing, but I thankfully declined, and said, “I’m actually really thirsty.” Without a second of hesitation, she reached into her purse and pulled out her makeshift wallet, and gave me one of the few remaining dollars she had left. “No, no, no! I don’t want to take your money,” I insisted. “Take it,” she said sternly. “You need it more than I do.” She practically shoved the dollar into my hand, led me over to the nearby street vendor and bought the coldest bottle of water I’d ever tasted. As I gulped down the icy water, my dry, burning throat of a desert was quenched like a “never-failing stream.” I wondered if this could be the bottled-up version of the living water Christ talked about with the Samaritan woman at the well.
When she saw that my thirst and hunger were momentarily gone, she again reached into her bag and handed me a mango. Then she hugged me, and headed down the street; and yet, she never once mentioned her name or anything about herself. Her selflessness was so apparent that it seemed as if she loved others just as much – or maybe even more – than herself. As I stood there amazed at this woman’s kindness, I began to wonder if she was an angel in disguise. My eyes almost teared up as I thanked God for this woman’s love, and realized that God sent her to provide for me. “Give us today our daily bread” took on a whole new level of significance for me this day.
With my two unwashed hands full of mango and water bottle, and a thankful, up-beat hop in my step, I merrily walked down the pedestrian filled street. About a block down, a man was sprawled across the sidewalk, laying on top of a dirty, raggedy blanket. He had a cup with a few coins in it in front of him, obviously begging for change. The pedestrians had the same visceral reaction to him as they did to me, only worse. He was rendered invisible, worthless, virtually left there to die.
Hesitantly, I sat down next to him, and we smiled at each other. I asked him if he wanted my mango. “Mmrrmr…hrmrmmm..” he mumbled. He could not talk; this man was mute. I reached out my hand with the mango in it, and he took it. Without uttering a single word, he smiled, reached into his grocery bag, and pulled out a styrofoam “to-go” box. He uncovered the box and took out a large hunk of garlic bread and handed it to me. Again, I felt the awesome love of Christ embodied in this man, and I silently praised God. I crunched into the slightly soggy bread, but still it tasted better than a freshly made French baguette because of the love that accompanied it. As we both sat there eating in silence – me munching on my bread and he chewing on his mango – I understood God’s intention of naming Philadelphia the “city of brotherly love.”
With both of us happy and content, we smiled at each other, and somehow knew that God was smiling back.
Don, 2008
Reflections….Prop was an explosion of emotions for me. Sadness, remorsefulness, hate, love, compassion, love again, bitterness, anxiety, pity, etc. Then the finale. Whoa!!
I’m still not sure what happened to me that day but, I know God got into my head and heart and clarified to me what real compassion is. I’m probably going to struggle with this awhile longer but, I know where my heart is now. I finally saw others through the eyes of Jesus and I love it…
I thank you for giving an old man the opportunity to be with, talk to and eat with the “homeless”. I will remember the people I met because of you both in Philly and Jacksonville… Sean the comic, and his friend John, Aubrey, Shawn and Shirly in Jacksonville. I’ll pray for them and ask God every night to look out for them.
My best to the next PRop group….
Ross, 2008
I really got a lot from the night that we talked about receiving gifts from the poor. I normally have a hard time accepting gifts from anyone, let alone a homeless person. It really helped to realize that, by allowing someone to give to me, I’m being blessed and so are they. I enjoy giving, so why deny someone else the pleasure? It was awesome when Nick offered us the rest of his food at the library. I found this verse, “A generous man will himself be blessed, for he shares his food with the poor (Proverbs 22:9),” and our experience with Nick has taught me a lot about it. By accepting Nick’s offer, we were letting him experience the joy of giving, and opening him up to God’s blessing. We got some extra food out of the deal too. It kind of changed my perspective on this verse too. I guess I always assumed that the man sharing his food with the poor was wealthy, but it doesn’t say that. It says hes generous. Nick was by no means wealthy, but he certainly was generous. Even though PROP isn’t a service trip, we are, in a way, serving the people that we meet. By switching roles with them and becoming the receivers, we let them enjoy the blessings of giving, because “it is more blessed to give than to receive (Acts 20:35).”
Jenty, 2006
On a warm day in November 2006, a friend and I spent the day in the city with nothing but ourselves: no money, food, or reading material—just the clothes on our backs. It was humbling to experience the care and generosity of the homeless in Center City: it was these who noticed that we were hungry and shared food and fellowship with us.
Josh, 2006
Be open to humility. Allow God to provide for you through the generosity of others. You don’t always have to give. It’s ok to receive.
Rachel, 2006
I learned a lot about boredom doing Urban Solitude. I wasn’t feeling well, and I didn’t have any energy (nor was I hungry enough) to beg for money, so basically I just sat around all day being bored and hungry and sort of miserable. I had never really thought about that part of being a street person. There’s nothing to do. You don’t have anyone to talk to, you don’t have any reason to get up and do anything, you don’t have anything to go do. You feel poorly, but you don’t have any medicine. There aren’t a whole lot of public restrooms. And it really sucks to be on your period if you don’t have money to buy supplies for that sort of thing. I’d always just thought, you know, it would be okay to be a street person. Okay, yeah, you might get hungry, but there’s always someone giving out food, right? And I’d thought about the humiliation of begging from strangers. But I’d never thought about the boredom. Or having sinus problems, or explosive diarrhea, or epilepsy, or appendicitis. The things we house people take for granted…
Katie, 2006
Just a few days ago, all the other Mission Year teams here spent the day (and some, the night) in downtown Philly (Center City). We’d been having some “Indian summer” days and the day we were downtown was one of them. We were grateful for the weather, but this wasn’t like a normal day. All of us were down there in scruffy, beat-up clothes, with empty stomachs, and without money. We all split up into pairs and walked about the city, encouraged to hang out in ritzy areas, talk to homeless people, and pan-handle or dumpster-dive if we wanted to eat lunch. I decided to spend some time alone, so I hung out in a nice park. There were plenty of people there, dressed up nicely for a Veteran’s Day ceremony, walking with their families, having a nice time. I, however, was not. Before this time alone, I sat with a friend and tried to ask for some spare change, to no avail, and with many disgusted looks thrown in our direction. I’m certainly guilty of responding in this way, so I was getting a taste of my own medicine.
As I sat there on that bench, uncomfortable, dirty, and sad, I caught just a small glimpse of what the life of the unprivileged must be like. I felt hopeless in this land of plenty, and because of this hopelessness, I didn’t even feel the motivation to get up off the bench to try to better my life that day. And this was after only being out there for a few hours! How much more must the actual homeless feel this way? The homeless folks I’ve spoken with since that day confirm this feeling of defeat, and this makes me so sad. Amidst the gratefulness for my positive and supportive family and friends, my heart breaks for the needs of those without. To see the terrible effects broken homes, alcohol, and drugs makes my work here both more and less complex at the same time. More complex in terms of the quantity of need, but less in terms of how I approach loving and serving people. I’m convinced now more than ever that helping people and making their lives better is a result of personal care of a whole person, with that unconditional love that we are shown by Christ on the cross, as well as showing hospitality that can sometimes seem just as difficult!
I’ve seen that the need for Jesus’ love and people to convey that love is great in our community. This past Saturday affirmed this all the more. I know I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I’m so grateful for this opportunity to be here, serve, and build relationships with people. It’s tough, but I am being sustained by God’s promises and I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else at this point in my life.
Ryan, 2006
Lonely? In a big city? Impossible!
Coming from a small town, I was not used to all the people in Philadelphia. I used to hear stories about people feeling lonely and not having friends in big cities with so many people. I thought that this was impossible. With so many people around how could someone feel lonely?
Well, I started my day with two friends. We spent some time asking for money in a park, and were able to pool together enough money to take Chris and John, two homeless men, to lunch. We went to the $1 menu at McDonalds. After eating and talking for a while, I decided it was time to head out on my own. So, I said my goodbyes and I apologized for the small meal. I did not expect the response I got. “The burger was good and all,” Chris said, “but I really enjoyed the company.”
By the end of the day I knew what Chris meant by really enjoying the company. I spent the rest of my day wandering around by myself, looking for things to do, people to talk to, and food to eat. I felt like I was simply just a part of the city, like the sidewalk or the trashcan and everyone around me just did their own thing. I was lonely in a big city.
Sandy, 2005
I left the center city office with a token to get home. I didn’t have any food on me. I was somewhat excited to see what the day would hold. I walked along near the convention center and just sat on a step. I think I fell asleep for a little bit, but I woke up and I was really cold. I got up and started to just walk around. I was sitting along the side of the road near City Hall with another Mission Year Team Member. We sat down beside a homeless man who asked us for some money. Instead of giving him money (which we had none to give) we gave him some conversation. He began to talk about his life. I cannot remember details about his life, but what I do remember are the countless faces that walked past this man who was talking to us. They did so without a thought in the world given towards him. Most would not look in our direction, and those who did just stared and said nothing. I could not understand why people have just disregarded the destitute and homeless. I still cannot understand it.
As I was sitting next to this man, I began to feel quite angry with everyone walking by on their cell phones. I then moved from anger to sadness quite fast and I almost started crying. No one was even talking to me—it was just a lot of emotions that I felt at the same time. Then, about three pm that afternoon a man was walking up the street with his daughter. He had parked his car a little ways up the road and approached the three of us with some brown bags. He handed one to the man—he said to me do you want one? I said yes. I bet my eyes were wide open with amazement. I opened the bag and inside was a lunch. He had packed a sandwich, juice, apple, and chips, and a few pieces of candy. I was overwhelmed. I do not think I was that hungry—it was more that God had provided. I would not have imagined this to happen and yes, you might be thinking—it was a brown bag with a sandwich in it, but at the time it was a miracle.
(After this day, our mission groups went out several times throughout the city delivering our own brown bags to people we met in need. It was a blessing to be on the receiving end that day I spent in Urban Solitude and it showed me how as Christians we need to be on the giving end even more so—for to give is more blessed than to receive. I have received many blessings in my life and it is time to give.)
But back to the day, I know there are parents who are teaching their children about the poor and the homeless but when I saw it with my own eyes, I was as I said overwhelmed to say the least. I sat there in shock and just let the tears flow. I do not remember what kind of sandwich it was—in fact I think I saved the lunch. I held it in my hand for the rest of the day to just to remind myself that it was provided. I passed it off to someone under the subway. I knew I would eat that night and that I had a home to go home too regardless of how cold or hungry I was in that moment. I had witnessed compassion and after seeing all the bitterness from the privileged I thanked God that people like this father from New Jersey took the time on that Saturday afternoon to teach his daughter and train her as she grows up in this world.
Sarah, 2006
Lifestyles of the poor and homeless?
We Mission Year Philly/Camden folks spent a recent Saturday downtown in Center City. We brought with us no money, just plain/old clothes and a bus token to get home. Our task for the day was to spend it on the streets, and we were encouraged to either go hungry, or panhandle or dumpster-dive for our lunch. I walked around for a while and talked to some folks before settling down on the sidewalk outside the Banana Republic on Broad Street. I placed a cup and a note (“Need Lunch. Bless you.”) in front of myself, and waited. People walked by. I could see them noticing me, and their reactions were easy to anticipate, because I’ve been in their shoes. If I caught someone’s eye, he or she would usually look away with an expression of discomfort. A couple of times I got up the courage to ask, “Can you spare a quarter?” One young woman probably my age reacted exactly as I have many times: feeling her pocket for change, finding none, and walking away without a word.
The only person who stopped to talk to me was a kind Argentine named Alejandro. He wanted to know if I was ok—did I need any help? I told him I was hoping that one of the people passing by would give me some money for lunch. We started chatting in Spanish, and he told me that though he was working handing out flyers for a car wash several blocks north of there, he would be able to get me some food if I walked there with him. Considering the fact that no one else was offering me any help, I took him up on his offer. As we walked, we talked about all sorts of things—he had had a very interesting life, and was now living homeless in Center City. He bought me a slice of pizza and some juice, and we ate together. Then we walked up the Ben Franklin Parkway to a grassy spot where he offered me a spot on his blanket and I napped for a little while. I thanked him profusely when we parted ways, humbled by his generosity. And I asked myself why was a homeless man only person who stopped to speak with me, and later feed and “shelter” me? Then I reminded myself that I worship a homeless man who did and does the same thing.
