Stories

Today at lunch I sat with a man who has been homeless for some time about his life. He told me about how he decided to become a theologian while he was in the Air Force, and he told me all about his educational journey. He hasn't made it to seminary yet - those darned college loans. And he's admittedly made a lot of mistakes along the way. But he's very well educated. Perhaps he's self-educated.

As I sat and listened (and took an accidentally prolonged lunchbreak), I remember that that's why I'm in this line of work. For the stories. The sad ones, the happy ones, the so close to success I can taste it ones. I'm in it for the stories. That's what makes this matter to me.

And as a sidebar, despite having heard some really terrible stories today about how my homeless neighbors have been treated recently, as I walked through the dayroom I couldn't help but think, "This is a joyful place." I watched a man playing with a child, bringing a huge smile to both of their faces. I observed people enjoying a sense of community in this safe place of respite. I listened to laughter as people joked around in the back of the room. Even though there is sorrow in the lives of the people who come through our doors, there is hope. There can be joy. I love that.