**Disclaimer: the names in my stories have been changed for privacy sake of the people I serve, and everything I write and mention are my own thoughts and musings! No reflection of any organization here!**
“Is that okay?” I ask tentatively, seeking Kate’s approval. With a playful grin on her face, the woman sitting in the red plastic chair surrounded by everything she owns looks up at me and answers, “Well it has to be, doesn’t it?”
We were running behind on Kate’s laundry thanks to a washing machine that loved the 6 minute mark so much it stayed there for 30 minutes. I was apologetic, nervous about being approached by a patron asking for their laundry when sweet, sweet Kate plopped down next to me and asked the hot-button question. Her answer “It has to be okay” speaks volumes about the patience and grace I have received this past month and a half. I sat down with Kate for those 22 minutes her laundry had left in the dryer, and she met my anxiety with patience and gratitude, a combination that knocked me off my feet. In that short time, I met Kate with an openness and curiosity about her story, and armed with listening ears I took it all in.
I’ve heard people say the phrase “meeting people where they’re at” in the social service world to refer almost exclusively to meeting clients, or patrons where they’re at in their life journey. But I’d like to stretch that concept to the grace I, as a social service provider, have received by the hundreds of patrons that walk in the Urban Rest Stop’s doors each and every day. The folks that I have the privilege to see everyday are meeting me with a sense of gratitude I can hardly fathom, knowledge beyond my years, experiences I will never have. And these wonderful, authentically beautiful people are meeting me where I’m at grabbing onto my curiosity and sending their stories soaring into the depths of my soul.
There’s a quote from StoryPeople that describes this feeling better than I can, and it says: “Now & then, I try to listen without knowing anything. It’s a nice break from all the other days where I just talk without knowing anything.” I have become resolute with the idea that I, as a white, college educated, middle class, privileged person can never know just exactly how the people I am serving feel, or the pain they have experienced. But the beautiful thing about the human condition is this; though people suffer in different, individual ways, this suffering is part of what makes us human. So let us instead of running away or hiding from it, lean in to this suffering and pain. Let us embrace it, and name it, and let the pain pass.
By embracing the truth that I know nothing, I am opening myself up to growth in a way I never before could dream of. In these past 6 weeks, I have heard stories that tear at my heart strings, I have sat with people who have no home, who’s family consists of their friends and loved ones living outside among them. I have learned from people who had to grow up far too fast. I have laughed until I cried tears of authentic joy. And I have listened. And I don’t know much, but that right now, this exactly where I am supposed to be.
Adventure is out there 