Complexity and Resilience

I don't apologize for the length of this one. Read it if you dare!


On Tuesday nights, I leave my desk at about 6:25 and walk down the countless flights of stairs to a big, brightly lit reception hall on the first floor. The hum of conversation is in tune with the live jazz and the smell of good food- and lots of it. Tonight, there's a Puerto Rican pork dish with rice and beans and little peanut butter cupcakes for dessert. Everyone keeps asking if I'm going to have some-- apparently, it's a hit.

People are still trickling in (and sometimes out) when Eric- the head of the program- steps up to the mic and welcomes everyone to Our Place: A Wellness Cafe. After we pray and sing a few songs, someone reads the biblical twist on the 12 Steps, followed by a testimony. Tonight, J. reads us her "homeless story," as she calls it-- recalling her childhood in Birmingham, AL in the 50's, her troubled teenage years in NYC, and the heartaches and joys of her adult life. She is simple and sincere. I admire how articulate she is, then immediately judge myself for focusing on that, rather than the story.
I glance around and take in the room as Eric begins a short talk....a few apron-clad volunteers collect plates and refill coffee. Someone gets up to go to the bathroom.  But most people just sit and listen. Some are dressed in crisp collared shirts with combed hair and an attentive eye. Others are layered in an assortment of shirts and coats, toting their lives on their backs. Some struggle to stay awake, others struggle to stay still. I find myself doing both. All walks of life converge for a moment here.

We break into small groups-- "wellness circles"--- and tonight we answer the question-- "what is one hurt, habit, or hangup that you have that just doesn't seem to go away?" I’m a bit distracted by a less-than-pleasant smell, but to try and discern its owner would be…well, tricky. I nudge myself away from my clean-freak tendencies and back to the conversation. Some of my group members share their struggles to survive in horrific living conditions, or stay afloat without a job, or recoup after their money or IDs were stolen at a shelter. Others share about the need to see God as loving, to let go of shame, to move forward in trust. We close with the serenity prayer and truly do hope to be supremely happy in the life to come.

Now it’s time for classes. The knitting group is hopping tonight—everyone is excited that it’s back in swing. The creative writing class gathers and is already scribbling away by the time my little cohort and I finally make our way down stairs for Creative Expression (my feeble attempt at making the word “Theater” seem less scary). It is always a small group, but every week God provides—both people and ideas, courage and hope. Tonight we are jovial. There is a lot of laughter at our collectively bizarre imaginations. Later, I lead them through an exercise using bits of news headlines I have snipped from the morning paper. They collaborate to create still shots that represent these titles. It is always interesting to watch a story emerge out of seemingly nothing….just a few words- “join the fight” or “tipping point” or “tough call” and you have an image. Add a few people and you have a scene. Add imagination and Voice and you have a story. One image from this exercise sticks with me as I leave later in the evening, dodging the rain on my way to the subway—two people, limbs intertwined,, growing into a man standing nearby. The stolen newspaper heading: “Complexity and Resilience.” Yes, I think, that is the perfect title for tonight.