September 18, 2014
It’s a new season here at Village of Hope! And we’re all very excited about the things to come. The things that are happening.
Speaking of things to come, I’m excited to publicly announce (for the very first time) that I’ll be moving here at the Village as of October 1st. I’ve accepted a position as onsite staff, and as such will be moving into my new home in just a couple of short weeks. So as the team prepares my new home for me, I’m packing my life away in boxes, and preparing to enter this new season. I enter with excitement for what’s up ahead.
When I was in the fifth grade, my teacher made us memorize this (what was at that time) this super weird poem. It seemed to fit him, since he was also old, and weird. He had wildly thick salt and peppered curly hair. It was frizzy, and unkempt. He wore glasses that always slipped to the tip of his large German nose. He was in charge of the folk dancing club at school, of which I was a part of, only because it meant that I got to skip math class twice a week to go to performances. But I digress…
So he made us memorize this poem, and I thought it was all very weird. I did what the other fifth graders did: I laughed my way through the entire recital to my class, then taking my seat, acting like I didn’t care to begin with. Even as a fifth grader, I was dying to fit in. But I didn’t know how this poem would ring true in my life.
It’s funny how things change. It’s like the veil was lifted. The scales fell from my eyes, and suddenly I could see:
“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
I must admit, these words have become incredibly important to me. Oh, my youthful ignorance. I did not know then what I know now.
For one, I should not have skipped out on math class twice a week. Maybe then I wouldn’t need a calculator for anything my fingers can’t handle. F’real. Then on the other hand, I didn’t know the way my heart would grow to care. For hurting people. For Village of Hope.
Emma Lazarus was talking about the Statue of Liberty, and how it was to be a symbol of invitation and hope to those looking for safety in New York’s harbor. But at Village of Hope, we desire to be a that same symbol for the people of Bemidji.
For the tired, a place to rest.
For the weary, a place of provision. A place of help.
For those huddled masses yearning to breathe free, a breath of fresh air.
And so we lift our lamps, and invite them in. Day after day. Week after week. Month after month. We desire to be a beacon of light in darkness. A voice of hope to the hopeless.
And we’ve seen real change.
And we believe it’s true.
August 27, 2014
As the weather cools off here in Bemidji, we’re getting ready for fall! We’ve got an incredibly short waiting list right now, and we’ve seen a lot of change over in families. Good things are happening around here. All good things…
Right now, I can hear the hushed low voices in the office next to me. Amanda is having a case management meeting with a client here. Setting goals. Taking steps. Slowly, but surely making a way in the middle of what seems an impossible task: jobs blah blah, housing blah blah blah. Gaining independence.
This is what we do. This is what we believe in. Setting goals. Taking action.
…And it’s happening. Right. Now. But then again, that’s kind of a thing around here. It’s kind of…what we do.
I wish I had something profound to tell you today. I don’t. Something to inspire. I can’t. Something to get us all a little more excited about life. I don’t know how. The truth is, I’d rather be napping. Life is catching up with me. My eyes are tired. My back is sore. My to do list is longer than the length of me.
I’d love to tell you that hope comes easily. I’d love to tell you that it never fades. Never wavers. Never changes. Never disappoints. But sometimes it does. Sometimes we lose hope. Sometimes we get tossed around and beat up. Sometimes things change so fast, and we aren’t sure if we’re ever going to catch up.
We wish things were different. We wish we never felt like this. Don’t we? But the truth is, sometimes it’s a struggle to get out of bed in the morning. Forget about doing laundry. Washing dishes. Paying bills. We were down and out before we ever got up and running.
How are we supposed to keep up with all that?
Sometimes life is so… demanding… right?
Rich. Or poor.
Full table. Or empty belly.
Sometimes life expects too much. Pushes too far. Requires more than we can give.
But the truth is, we have to try. Since when do we get to just… give up? I mean, I suppose that’s an option. But not really. Not if we’re ever going to make it out alive.
Each one of those goals is a fear to be faced. Around here it all goes something a little bit like this:
- Call on housing (Knowing that I may not have the means to pay for it, and I will probably get turned down. Again.)
- Apply for jobs (Because I’m not qualified, and I got fired from my last job, and I don’t really have much to go on…)
I know a guy who says you’ve got to show up to your own life. Believe me when I tell you, that I don’t quite have all that figured out yet. I still sleep waaaay to late most mornings.
I lay in bed, and complain to myself, or to God, or to the ceiling. “I don’t want to get up. NO way. I’m not doing it. Too much to do today, and not enough in me to do it.” Because even my own little life (it’s little, I know) is all just a little too much sometimes. Even my little problems (as little as they are) seem really, very overwhelming sometimes.
I get up, and groan, and grumble, and complain some more. And after all that, I make a pot of coffee. And after I’ve consumed every drop, the world seems a little brighter. And I struggle. And I strain. And I find some way to make it through. Just like the rest of us, I suppose. And I think we all feel that. At least a little. Sometimes. Don’t we?
But the truth is, we have to grab a mug, and show up. We just have to. There’s no other way.
Sometimes we lose hope. But we’ll never get it back if we don’t even show up.
And hope grows. And life will beat us up a bit. It will demand more than we have. It will require more than we can give. And hope will grow. Hope will heal.
…we just have to find a way to show up.
July 31, 2014
I don’t exactly know how to do this. How to introduce myself, via the internet, on a blog. How to say, “I’m Rachel, and this is my thing. I blog, and I love Village of Hope. So I’m doing that now.” I suppose I just did, though.
Let’s try this again.
I’m Rachel. And I love Village of Hope. I believe in this place, and what we do here. So here I am, to hash it all out. I really hope to be a new voice for this place. Because I believe in it, and I love it. Who I really am, and what I actually do, doesn’t matter so much in the grand scheme of things. But in case you’re curious, I cook at a nursing home. I love what I do, but I do it to finance the things that I really like to do. Like working here at the Village, where I can write to my heart’s content. And work to make this place better. So I do that now.
I love this place, because hope really matters here. It’s not just a cool catchy title or something. Hope means something around here. To these people. To this staff. And to me. Hope means something to me. To us.
So a while back, I read something that really got to me.
There I was, sitting on face book. Doing what most of us do, I think. Scrolling through my news feed, mindlessly reading about the dietary choices, and little adventures of all my face book friends. And I came across one of those pintrest things.
You know the ones. The cute little pictures that say something sweet by Mother Theresa, or someone awesome like that.
And there it was. And I was mad. Really, really mad.
It looks awesome, doesn’t it?
The fading night’s sky.
The city lights.
The cool, contrasting letters, that say the really awesome thing.
We’ve all seen them. We’ve all read them. And on any given day, at just the right moment, maybe we even believed them.
…But I was mad.
I was mad, because it isn’t true.
I was mad, because I think it’s a load of junk. And I don’t buy it. No, my cheesy pintrest addicts, I don’t buy it.
Hope totally knows fear. Hope knows just how ugly, and bad, and paralyzing fear can be. But hope gets up. Hope stands up, and refuses to be a victim. Hope stares fear in the face and says, “Maybe…”.
Maybe it won’t be this way forever.
To the childless woman hope says, “Maybe I will get to be a mom.”
To the victim, hope says, “Maybe someday someone won’t hurt me the way he hurt me.”
To the jaded, hope says, “Maybe it won’t always go that way.”
To any person who has ever felt stuck hope says, “Maybe I can change.”
And the truth is, I think that’s all of us.
Hope is all wrapped up in the maybe.
It does not allow fear to paralyze Instead, hope says, “I can conquer. I will conquer. I am a conqueror.”
Hope knows fear. All too well, I think. But hope refuses to let fear get in the way. And I think that’s the point. Hope stands up, and stares fear in the face, and says, “Get out of my way.”
And it’s a battle. The whole thing. It’s one big fight. Every day.
We may come out of it a little banged up. We might. We might come out on the other side a little battered. And bruised. And a little bit broken.
But mostly okay.
And mostly on the mend.
Because we have hope.
At Village of Hope, we’re about rehabilitating people from homelessness. Giving hope. Helping people to stand up, and face their lives. And face their fear. And change. Really, really change.
And we believe it’s possible.
Hope takes us by the hand, and says, “Let’s try this again.”
March 11, 2014
What an blessing to come to work and help children tell their story of homelessness and work to make their story end happily! Relationships is the key to stories in the present and in the future. Every person you meet has a story, Take the time to listen to them tell their story. You’ll be so glad you did.
December 18, 2013
I have been reflecting on 2013 and all the amazing opportunities the staff and volunteers at Village of Hope have had to make a difference in the lives of families. We see lives changed every day! We couldn’t do it without the people who partner with us, when you share your time, talent and money you give help for today and hope for the future.
I challenge you all to be somebody this next week and make a difference!
December 18, 2013
May 9, 2013
The little boy ran into my office today, crawled up on my lap, put his hands on either side of my face, looked me in the eye and said” I miss you”. He is very hard to understand but that came out loud and clear! After he left with our usual “See you later” I started to think about how and when we lose the ability as adults to tell people what we really feel. To my friend and I we do not worry about labels or judgements or what is and what isn’t. We just are together. He knows I am so glad to see him and he’s glad to see me. I want to carry that feeling in every interaction I have with homeless families and remember how I felt when we looked into each other’s eyes.