A Sudden and Miraculous Grace

(AP Photo/The Colorado Springs Gazette, Susannah Kay; http://www.dailylocal.com/article/20120625/NEWS04/120629708/rememberingpa.us/%27.$a.%27)

Eucatastrophe

Sometimes even when a word is unfamiliar if it sums up a big, far-reaching idea it’s worth using.

“Eucatastrophe” (pronounced YEW-kuh-tas-stroh-fee) is such a word. JRR Tolkien, the author of Lord of the Rings, coined the word to describe what happens in a story when the good that comes out of a great disaster overshadows the disaster itself. In Tolkien’s words, it is “the sudden happy turn in a story which pierces you with joy that brings tears.” 

And what is it like for the characters in, and hearers of, such a disaster? Tolkien himself says the eucatastrophe develops into “a sudden and miraculous grace.” Eucatastrophe never denies the reality of sorrow and failure because it would then deny us the joy of deliverance. It never accepts final defeat but instead gives “joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant as grief,” as a story’s characters -- perhaps with you among them -- come through trials that might easily have shattered them, but in the end didn’t.  

Last weekend one of my lifelong best friends (who, many years ago, actually introduced me to both Tolkien and “eucatastrophe”) and I joined family and friends for dinner and dessert in the shadow of the Pikes Peak range. Just a few days before the Waldo Canyon fire had been, by any reckoning, a great disaster.  But not long after, a sudden and miraculous grace -- the combined efforts of firefighters, a break in conditions, the prayers of strangers, the generosity of friends, the hand of God -- gave our community a sudden happy turn in the story which pierced us with joy that brings tears.

Today we stand at 98% containment. The fire might well be completely extinguished four or five days before the date originally projected.  (Who knew?)

The Waldo Canyon wildfire trespassing into Pikes Peak Region communities delivered a giant wallop in our collective gut two weeks ago. We sucked in the air around us, befouled as it was with ash and smoke, coughed and straightened up ready for the next round. 

You see, this is a remarkable community in crisis. The phone lines and emails buzzed between agencies, government and non-government alike, in everyone’s joint effort to help. Media dedicated themselves to keeping the community informed, period. Press briefings found a mayor standing shoulder to shoulder with a sheriff next to a fire chief adjacent to a Forest Service official, among others, all in a united front. No finger-pointing there; just colleagues working their way through a disaster.

In the early Christian church, there was a document called the Didache that carried this sage advice when practical challenges disrupted the daily flow of activity: “Do the best you can.” By doing the best we can, we help transform catastrophe into eucatastrophe.

We see that kind of transformation daily at the Mission. I have never yet seen it come without a price, or without the dedication of more people than expected, but I have seen it. It is the kind of transformation we need in continued support of the nearly 350 families whose homes were destroyed by the fire, and hundreds more whose belongings are damaged beyond use. It is the kind of transformation we need to encourage in the hundreds of single-parent families, underemployed families, and others who were homeless before the fire and continue to be so today.

It is the eucatastrophe of ongoing results when tragedies invoke neighbors to help neighbors.  So many people here are good at it already. Others have taken the opportunity in the last two weeks to put it into greater practice.

And I have this feeling that few of us will rest until the tears we see in those around us, too, are pierced with joy.

Guest Blog, Ben Robb: "We have to let you go..."

Ben Robb is a valued friend and colleague of mine at the mission. Over a lot of hard-earned caffeine, I found that I really enjoy Ben's insights and passion. Today, I hope you will too. (Go get 'em, Ben!!)

"We have to let you go ..."

What would you do if you and your spouse both lost your jobs today?

I suppose you'd feel stressed. You'd pray, perhaps. You'd certainly spruce up the resumes.

And then you'd call people. People you trust. People who care about you, want the best for you, would watch for new opportunities and mention your name.

You'd activate your network ... And you'd probably be just fine.

Positive relationships are easy to take for granted--building them comes naturally to most of us. But imagine if all your friends were living below the poverty line. Imagine that many of them were looking for work, too. Imagine that they all lived in small apartments, that none of them had a spare bedroom.

Then what would you do if you and your spouse both lost your jobs?

Imagining life with a different set of relationships makes it easier to see why approximately 800 single mothers are currently living with their children in their cars in the Pikes Peak Region, doesn't it?

You may have read Sarah's story in our recent newsletter (if not, get caught up here)--until recently, she was one of those homeless single mothers. She's also Springs Rescue Mission's first participant in a new program we're calling the Family Mentor Alliance. Here's the concept in a nutshell:

What we're doing to help

Homeless families have a short-term need: shelter. We're currently in the process of developing a safe place specifically for families with children--more on this in another post.

Homeless families have two primary long term needs if they are to avoid ending up on the streets (or in their cars) again--education and relationships.

We seek to meet their long term needs through the Family Mentor Alliance by matching them in a mentoring relationship with members of a local congregation. Our goal for all of the families we work with is self-reliance.

When I met Sarah, she was several months into her time in the family Mentor Alliance and was preparing to move out of transitional housing and into her own place. Committing to a rent payment for the first time in years, she was understandably stressed about the move. But her mentors were helping her.

Honest help doesn't always feel good. Sarah told me about arguing with these folks because the place she originally picked out was over budget. Together, they adjusted expectations and found something smaller, something sustainable. She told me about crying in her living room because her mentors were pushing her not to try to squeeze all of her stuff into the new space, which was smaller than her transitional housing, too.

These guys fought. They cried. They built real relationships--long term relationships. And Sarah has finally  gained some positive momentum for herself and her children.

Why this matters to me

Sarah's mentors are faithfully walking her through a wonderful spiritual curriculum and investing in her family in numerous ways. But it's the everyday stuff that makes all the difference in the long run. It's the positive relationships that matter.

I've worked for a few different non-profits over the last 11 years. Some of them have had a difficult time quantifying their long term outcomes. In my experience, the reason has been that the organization didn't build long term relationships. They might talk about reaching an inordinate number of hurting people (reach is a media term), but they haven't invested the months or years that it takes to walk people through the meaningful and sometimes mundane decisions that actually get lives back on track. And there's nothing more important.

Why it should matter to you, too

You give money to non-profits every year. If you're funding folks whose aim it is to get lives back on track, make sure they develop long term relationships with the people they're helping, whether it's through counseling, casework, or education. There's no substitute for long term, positive relationships.

If you want to help a family, a neighbor, a coworker, or the guy panhandling on your street corner, develop the relationship. There's no substitute for you.

365/7

Is there life at the Mission after the holiday season? Yep.

Will the hustle and bustle and open hearts of Thanksgiving and Christmas keep our homeless and at-risk neighbors in Colorado Springs secure until late next October? Nope.

Life goes on for the Mission and the homeless we serve after the holiday season. The needs we address during the holiday season don’t let up once the calendar changes into the New Year.

Here’s the drill: After an at-risk family leaves with a holiday food box in December, the food generally lasts them into early January. Then they may need more food to supplement their food stamps, or to give them some breathing room that allows them not to choose between having food and, say, keeping their lights and heat on.

Or, for just a minute now, imagine you’re homeless and on the streets. You get a great Christmas meal at the City Auditorium from the Mission. If you know how to make the rounds you’ll get a few really filling holiday meals a week either side of Christmas. Then you return to your life of meals at various agencies around town; good stuff when you get to them, but you just don’t always get to them on time.

And when the weather turns foul, sometimes you choose between exposing yourself to the elements for a long walk to a hot meal and staying in the trench you dug under the bridge with several others to share and preserve body heat. Sometimes food shows up when you need it and sometimes it doesn’t.

In the middle of this crucible of need are agencies like Springs Rescue Mission. Day in and day out, beyond the events that draw media attention, homeless and at-risk people can come to the Mission for clothing, referrals for medical attention, hot meals and a message of hope (six days a week) at Samaritan’s Kitchen, food boxes, and even household and hygiene items.

The Mission served roughly 4,000 meals to about 2,300 guests between its Thanksgiving and Christmas events at the Colorado Springs City Auditorium. That covers two days of food service, one day per event. The other 363 days of the year the Mission provided a combined 196,000+ meals to our neighbors in need between hot meals through Samaritan’s Kitchen, box and sack lunches, and contents in food boxes. We also served an additional 35,700 people the other 363 days of the year. [i]

The point here is that the need for thousands of at-risk and homeless people in El Paso County doesn’t disappear for ten months even after a very busy and fruitful two months. Events are certainly wonderful, and in many ways necessary, times of celebration and introduction of neighbors in need to the services available at the Mission and other agencies. But the challenge to respond to our neighbors in need goes on 365 days a year, 7 days a week. The stories of people like you helping others can be just as dramatic in February or July as in the second week of December. A food drive in March can be just as important (believe it or not) as one in November.

You get the idea. Clearly, we are grateful for all that happened to benefit homeless and at-risk children, women and men this holiday season. But just as clearly, fighting homelessness and poverty is a 365/7 task.

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[i] To check on these and other SRM program service statistics for FY 2011, start on Page 2 of SRM’s latest Form 990 at http://www.mysrm.org/images/stories/PDF/990_for_FY_10-11_-_SRM_FY10_990_Public_Inspection_Copy.pdf.

The Secret of Stone Soup

“Wow! Look at all these gifts!”

Indeed, the sight was impressive. Hundreds of Christmas toys were in the wrapping room as we prepared for the recent Christmas for All event, where hundreds of children were coming to receive what, for many of them, were their appointed “fun” Christmas gifts (like toys and crayons and other stuff I wanted as I helped my wife at her wrapping station).

I couldn’t help but think back to November, when the Mission had just three dozen or so turkeys on hand for food boxes and other distribution. We put out the word, and in two weeks we had around 2,000 turkeys to share.

The toys came from a large number of different people. Some stopped by the warehouse at the Mission to drop off toys. Others contributed at collection points that were spread throughout El Paso County: businesses, churches, retail locations, schools. There were several donors that brought many toys to the table, but most came from families and individuals who gave one or two at a time.

The same goes for the turkeys. I was on the turkey drop-off detail for one really busy morning in November. I can tell you that during my shift at least a couple hundred frozen turkeys came in one or two at a time, from a lot of different people. Again, there were several donors that brought dozens of turkeys but most came from families and individuals who gave one or two at a time.

Very, very often—like with Thanksgiving turkeys and Christmas toys—the Mission’s work succeeds because people give what they can (for example: a toy, a coat, a turkey, a monthly pledge), not what they wish they could (a check large enough to eradicate poverty in the Pikes Peak Region forever). If you think one toy or one turkey doesn’t matter because it doesn’t solve “the big problem,” you need to be reminded of the Secret of Stone Soup. (At least that’s the reminder my lovely bride brought up as we wrapped Christmas for All gifts.)

“Stone Soup” retells an old French (maybe Dutch, maybe Chinese?) folk tale. Three hungry travelers stay in a village where the people are hiding their food. The travelers tell the villagers they can make a hearty soup out of stones, and will show them how. All it requires is that each family bring something simple for the stone soup – a few carrots, a couple of potatoes, a bit of beef, an onion or two.

You can guess what happens. The travelers prepare a large cauldron of boiling water and throw in a stone each. The villagers come with the vegetables and meat, just a little from each family, and watch with fascination as the cauldron of Stone Soup transforms into a delicious meal that feeds everyone well.

What made Stone Soup such a success? A lot of people did what they could given their circumstances. No one gave beyond their means. When their contributions came together, the result became much more than anyone (except maybe the travelers) expected.

If more of us contribute what we really can, not what we wish we could, the combined results for our neighbors in need are usually far greater than expected.

That’s the Secret of Stone Soup. That’s how we all contribute to an outreach that becomes bigger than the sum of its parts.