From Grace and Main

There’s change on the horizon and we’re excited for it. But, honestly, isn’t there always some kind of change on the horizon? Usually we don’t see it coming and it simply invites itself into our lives, good or bad. But the change that I have my eyes set on is a next step that is welcomed for so many good reasons.

After more than twelve years as the director of Grace and Main Fellowship and Third Chance Ministries, I’m going to be stepping into a new role. But, blessedly for me, I’m not going anywhere and will continue to be involved in the life and work of Grace and Main and Third Chance. But I am going to have a professional change. Starting June 1, I will be the Senior Program Officer at the Danville Regional Foundation that focuses on grassroots and asset-based community development, community engagement, and housing grants.

In the months to come, there will be changes in how we do what we do and who does various things in our community. But we remain committed to providing hospitality, sharing life and resources, and cultivating community in our neighborhoods and lives. Have some patience with us as we figure out the transition, but have faith that this job change doesn’t mean any lesser commitment to our vocation of shared life and community. I will continue in a part-time capacity to oversee administration for a while and to shepherd this transition forward so that our good work continues.

If you have any questions, let me know. 

Grace and Peace,
Joshua

In March 2022, we provided 148 meals through grocery bags, subsidies, the Urban Farm, meal pickups and dropoffs, and a few other methods. This brings our yearly total up to the end of March to 502 meals.

In March 2022, we provided 591 nights of shelter through our network of housing resources including hospitality spaces, rent/utility subsidies, and a few other methods. That brings our up to the end of March to 1,503 nights of shelter.

In March 2022, we provided pastoral care and social support 258 times lasting more than 101 hours. This brings our yearly total up to the end of March to 785 sessions lasting more than 312 hours.

In March 2022, we provided 297 rides and spent more than 25 hours personally giving rides.  These rides include trips to the doctor, pharmacy, grocery store, and work. This brings out yearly total up to the end of March to 869 rides with more than 69 hours personally giving rides.

Jessica speaking about her and Grace and Main’s work at Mt Hermon Baptist Church in Moseley, VA

Community cat, Booboo, taking a well deserved snooze in a hospitality house

A Short Prayer for Next Steps

O God who knows how many hairs rest on each of our heads not because it matters, but because of your deep and abiding love for each and every one of us;
give us peace in times of transition and guide our steps and thoughts always toward you;
in order that we might multiply and echo your unquenchable love to the world we call our home.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

A Quote to Contemplate

Kallistos Ware wrote, “It is not the task of Christianity to provide easy answers to every question, but to make us progressively aware of a mystery. God is not so much the object of our knowledge as the cause of our wonder.”

Some Updates from Grace and Main

It seems that spring is ever so tenaciously striving to break through cold soil and gray clouds. Each morning, I wake up wondering if today will be a day full of the promise of spring with warming temperatures and quiet but insistent blossoms making their appearances. As I write this, it is instead a morning that shakes its head resolutely, cold temperatures testifying that winter has not yet given up its frigid grasp. But I’ve been around enough to know that spring will emerge — perhaps giving way too quickly to summer — and winter will recede. Soon enough we will be chatting amiably about how hot it is and giving thanks for air conditioning wherever we can find it.

But this wait-and-see weather we find ourselves in now turns my thoughts in a pensive direction. There is something instructive in the weather as winter gives way to spring and as we journey from Ash Wednesday toward Easter. Sure, we’re learning how to be patient and anticipate, but even more we’re learning in our bodies what it feels like to hope. Every beautiful day sees the parks and trails replete with people practicing their hope. After the last couple years and all their travails, this dancing toward hope feels a little more awkward; we remember the steps, but we seem to have developed two left feet in our waiting. On the hard days and bad days — on the days when it seems the winter and the darkness will finally keep their promise to remain — there is a defiant blossom on the roadside or a budding tree smirking at all the winter’s words.

Spring is coming. Next steps are imminent. Goodness is getting its shoes laced. We’re headed in the direction of Easter — of resurrection — even if we don’t totally remember all the steps to get there. There’s hope in all this wait-and-see if we’ll only see and wait.

Grace and Peace,
Joshua

In February 2022, we provided 201 meals through grocery bags, subsidies, the Urban Farm, meal pickups and dropoffs, and a few other methods. This brings our yearly total up to the end of February to 354 meals.

In February 2022, we provided 555 nights of shelter through our network of housing resources including hospitality spaces, rent/utility subsidies, and a few other methods. That brings our up to the end of February to 912 nights of shelter.

In February 2022, we provided pastoral care and social support 281 times lasting more than 102 hours. This brings our yearly total up to the end of February to 527 sessions lasting more than 210 hours.

In February 2022, we provided 285 rides and spent more than 21 hours personally giving rides.  These rides include trips to the doctor, pharmacy, grocery store, and work. This brings out yearly total up to the end of February to 572 rides with more than 43 hours personally giving rides.

The recently renovated living room of one of our affordable housing sites.

Looking out the front door of one of our recently renovated affordable housing sites.

A Short Prayer for Repentance

O God who refuses to neglect or forsake us no matter how many times we refuse and run from you;
help us to repent well and thereby learn to place our trust and hope in you again and more fully as we turn from sin and toward you;
in order that we might find our rest from the distress and decay of sin and be at peace.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

A Quote to Contemplate

Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “We must learn to regard people less in the light of what they do or omit to do, and more in the light of what they suffer.”

“Good evening, church,” James proclaimed to our prayerful silence as he entered the front door of the house. He had arrived that Sunday afternoon with several of the others who were now praying in what was usually a living room but now served as a makeshift chapel. But while he had arrived a little early, he had lingered on the porch to finish a conversation. James had a knack for finding a conversation and luxuriating in it, understanding on some deep level that attention given in conversation is typically indistinguishable from love even when it’s just being polite.

When we didn’t answer back as James expected, he repeated himself, “Good evening, church!”
Breaking our silence to welcome him, we replied in a disjointed chorus, “Good evening, brother James.” Satisfied, James joined us, finding a folding chair in a favorite spot. Our thoughtful crowd of regulars had left the chair open, knowing that James tended to gravitate to one of the spots under the mantle and preferably “near his brother,” one of Grace and Main’s founding members. It was only after settling into his seat that James recognized we had been in the middle of our silence.

But silence gave way to song, as it most often does when we gather to pray. As was my practice, I asked those gathered, “does anyone have a song on their heart that we can sing together?” Waiting half a beat, James offered one of his own. Whereas others might call out a title, a first line, or perhaps a song book number, James liked just to start singing and let us catch up with him. After years of sharing life with James, we were accustomed to catching up with him.

“Soon and very soon,” we sang at a pitch that I could tell was going to be too low for us all to sing along, “we are going to see the King.” James loved singing and loved music. He was usually eager to share a new song, to line it out for us, and to sing as loudly as he could manage. Over the years, I’ve heard many requests for Grace and Main to put together a softball team or a book club, but only James ever asked us to put together a choir. He insisted that he would lead it and was disappointed when he found that none of our regulars seemed to share his enthusiasm.

It was pitched too low, but we sang anyway. We sang the verses everybody knew and then we made up some of our own. “No one homeless there, we are going to see the King” and “No nights sleepless there, we are going to see the King.” Ever since we met James, he’d been teaching us. He was, for all intents and purposes, the sixth member of Grace and Main and the first person experiencing homelessness to join the community in pursuit of the Kingdom of God. He taught us about our neighborhoods and about how people end up experiencing homelessness for years at a time. He taught us many new songs and how to pray. He taught us not to let our hair blow in the wind or to set a hat on a table. He taught us to take risks and wait for God to step in, always reminding us “Jesus’ pockets are deep.” James taught us how to be “serious as water” but also how really to enjoy a cup of coffee on the porch, even if he never really learned how to hold a coffee mug upright.

Mostly, though, James taught us that faith is a muscle and it grows through use. Whether that’s setting off on a walk to Milton to go to church or asking hard questions of powerful people because it’s the right thing to do, James placed his trust first and foremost in God and secondly in the people that made up his extended family in Grace and Main and around town.

Given the nature of our work, I am often asked if we “share the faith” with the people who fill our lives with community and love and solidarity. While I understand what they’re asking, I often want to give a much more nuanced answer to the question. After all, sharing goes both ways and the truth is that I’ve been immensely privileged for more than twelve years to “share faith” with James, even when he went by the name of Roland in our stories. Simply put: yes, we shared the faith with James because sometimes we had faith and shared it with him and sometimes he had faith and shared it with us. On the best days, we all had faith in the immensity and undeniability of God’s love.

James passed peacefully in his sleep just prior to the end of 2021. He’d been a part of our community for roughly twelve years. When we first met him, he was living in a stairwell downtown but he passed in a warm home with all the love and support he always deserved. It was our privilege as a community to walk the last miles with Brother James and to make one more trip to a small church in Milton to bring his remains to their well deserved rest. We do, of course, miss James very much and we give thanks for his life and all he has meant to us. But we remain connected to our Brother James and we continue to share faith with him and learn the many lessons he taught us.

Soon and very soon, we will see Brother James again. This time, maybe we’ll join the choir – even if he does pitch the songs too low.

***

Please consider making a donation to support our continued work at: bit.ly/3CMdonate.

Some Updates from Grace and Main

This month, we’re sharing some of the big pile of data we generated about our work in 2021. Among other things, I’m sure you’ll notice that we provided more nights of shelter in 2021 than we’ve provided in any previous year: 5,527! Another of the many ways we measure the impact of our work is the “economic value” of the work that we do. That is, what would it cost the city and our neighborhoods if we weren’t doing what we do and doing it how we do it. For 2021, the estimated economic value of our work was $404,409. Accordingly, we turned every $1 donated to our work into $3.28 of benefit and impact. Thank you for being a part of that.

But, of course, there’s a lot that we do to which we cannot attach a number. Chief among these commitments in 2021 were the two brothers whom we buried. Daniel and James were long-time members of our community and powerful, local leaders upon whom we depended for so many things. It was a holy, but bittersweet, privilege to arrange for their final wishes and make sure they were cared for both in their final days and in death. We miss them and we appreciate your prayers. Next month, I’ll be sharing a story about James and all that he has meant to us.

As always, I welcome your questions and thoughts. Please feel free to reach out and, if you find yourself encouraged by what we’re working on and want to see if continue and grow, consider becoming a supporter. We’ve got a lot of good things we’re working on this year and we’ll be growing — so we will need new supporters and even more support than we have in previous years.

Grace and Peace,
Joshua

In 2021, we provided 5,527 nights of shelter through our network of housing resources including hospitality spaces, rent/utility subsidies, and a few other methods. These nights of shelter had a total economic value of more than $330,000!

In 2021, we provided 4,064 meals through grocery bags, subsidies, the Urban Farm, meal pickups and dropoffs, and a few other methods. 

In 2021, we provided pastoral care and spiritual direction 3,171 times lasting 1,226 hours. This is an important kind of social support including active listening and emotional support.

In 2021, we provided 2,744 rides and spent 338 hours personally giving rides.  These rides include trips to the doctor, pharmacy, grocery store, and work. 

Brother James, a longtime Grace and Main leader and member, who passed in late December 2021

Snowy streets in one of the neighborhoods where we live and work.

A Short Prayer for New Opportunities

O God who, in creation, chose a garden to plant in the midst of the swirling void of chaos over which you hovered;
renew our spirits, ease our fatigue, and inspire our dreams of the future and of what we might join you in doing in a new year, in new places, and in new ways,
in order that we might find joy and peace in the uncertainty of new opportunities and new creations.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

A Quote to Contemplate

Brennan Manning wrote, “The gospel is absurd and the life of Jesus is meaningless unless we believe that He lived, died, and rose again with but one purpose in mind: to make brand-new creation. Not to make people with better morals but to create a community of prophets and professional lovers, men and women who would surrender to the mystery of the fire of the Spirit that burns within, who would live in ever greater fidelity to the omnipresent Word of God, who would enter into the center of it all, the very heart and mystery of Christ, into the center of the flame that consumes, purifies, and sets everything aglow with peace, joy, boldness, and extravagant, furious love. This, my friend, is what it really means to be a Christian.”

At the time you’re reading this, we’ve collectively walked into a new calendar year and are still making our way through Christmas. I’ll be spending a few days with family in Michigan before coming back and getting back to work on some of the new and exciting things coming in 2022. One of the first things I’ll do this month is finalizing all of our data from 2021 and making sure we’ve got an accurate count of everything we’ve accomplished in the year we’ve just finished. Then we’ll send out letters to all of you who have donated in 2021 to make that work possible.

After celebrating what has past, we’ll set out mind and heart toward continuing to expand our housing work in the year we’ve just started. This is a year we look forward to new homes, new renovations, and more people in safe, stable, affordable shelter. We’ll find new ways to celebrate the good work we’re able to do together and we’ll continue to pray that the days ahead will include shared meals, much laughter, and new reasons to celebrate.

As always, I welcome your questions and thoughts. Please feel free to reach out and, if you find yourself encouraged by what we’re working on and want to see if continue and grow, consider becoming a supporter.

Grace and Peace,
Joshua

A Short Prayer for a New Year

O God who made our sun and all the other stars and cast them into the universe in their courses, and who finally created humans who remain measured by the movement of creation;
fill us with hope for the new year and inspire us to act in love in myriad small ways alongside our sisters and brothers whom you have created and whom you love;
in order that your creation might thrum with the rhythm not only of starlight but also of your deep and unconditional love.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

A Quote to Contemplate

Wendell Berry said, “I believe that the world was created and approved by love, that it subsists, coheres, and endures by love, and that, insofar as it is redeemable, it can be redeemed only by love.”

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This story was originally published in August of 2015.

***

Derek is hard to describe, but I’ll try. The first time I met him was at a meal and before I knew his name, he asked me if I wanted to hear the rap he was working on. Derek has a way of entering a new and unfamiliar place with confidence, his eyes darting to the left and right to take in his environment as quickly as possible. He is an astounding judge of character most times, but is also eager to assume the best of people even when his instincts suggest differently. Derek walks with an understated strut that we’ve learned to recognize from a block away, knowing him by his walk before we can hear him yelling our names. Derek has a sense of style that defies imitation, shifting subtly from day to day with his newest clothing creations—composed of other people’s castoffs and often given away shortly after their debut—but remaining consistent to a few themes, such as his penchant for handmade necklaces and redesigned skullcaps. Regardless of what’s going on in Derek’s life on any given day, he always asks me how my daughter is in the first minute or two of any of our conversations. He’s eager for us to know he loves us and tells us regularly.

Derek was one of the thirteen people who used to live at the apartment building that we called “Little Calcutta” and wrote about here previously. After four years of sharing countless meals together, planting flowers in the courtyard, taking turns playing the guitar on the porches of roach infested apartments that often lacked running water, and talking very seriously about what the tenants deserved, the tenants were ready to ask for better. Derek was one of the key leaders who helped cultivate justice in that neglected place and he did it with all of his characteristic soft-hearted swagger and persistent hopefulness. When the building was condemned, Derek celebrated alongside everybody and debuted new art and new fashion.

But, the condemnation of the building meant that once again Derek was facing the possibility of homelessness. For years, Derek had drifted between homelessness and near-homelessness, between lack of security and the hope of security. Though there are a particular set of material, social, and health challenges that vex Derek, it’s far too simple to say that those challenges are why Derek has struggled with homelessness. The reality is that Derek’s struggle with homelessness says just as much—if not more—about our society as it does about Derek.

We’ve been taught to expect people like Derek to act desperate and servile. We’ve learned to trade support and assistance, from positions of power and control, for dignity and flattering gratitude. Too often, we ask the Dereks to be somebody else, because we don’t know what to do with who they are. Sadly, when they don’t, can’t, or won’t fit themselves into a broken set of expectations for those in need, we write them off as ungrateful or undeserving. This certainly isn’t justice, and it’s hard even to call it charity. Rather, it’s something of a transaction where we trade some of our surplus resources for good feelings, and the Dereks of the world trade dignity and agency for whatever we’ve chosen to give. Frankly, it’s a bad trade for everybody involved, but it seems to be one we’re all accustomed to making.

So, we did what we’ve done dozens of times before and started going with Derek to make applications at better apartment buildings and to put together the documents and paperwork that he’d need to find a place to lay his head in relative security. The former tenants of Little Calcutta had ten days to find somewhere to go and we were able to relocate most within a week, but Derek kept being turned down for a variety of reasons. Finally, with only a few days left until the building was finally boarded up—a victory worth celebrating in its own right—one of our leaders, Ed, sat in yet another waiting room with Derek as his application was scrutinized in private. As Derek paced the room, Ed noticed that Derek’s shoelaces were tied together, forcing him to shuffle his feet to avoid tripping. Thinking this was a fashion choice, Ed asked Derek, “What’s up with your shoelaces? They make you walk like you’re shackled.”

Derek, normally cheerful and playful, turned his downcast eyes to Ed and responded, “That’s how I feel, that’s how I should be walking.” So, what do you do when your brother makes that kind of confession to you? You wish it wasn’t true, but then you cry because, for the moment, it is. Then you tie your own shoelaces together, because it’s not just the Dereks of the world that are shackled by our broken way of looking at poverty, homelessness, justice, and charity. You tie your shoelaces together and shuffle through the next few days alongside the brother or sister that God gave you, because when that’s how you feel, that’s how you should be walking.

Together, we got there and Derek found a place to take shelter with less than 24 hours to spare. He untied his laces, he joined us at yet another meal and for prayers, and we all gave thanks that for a little while, everything was alright. That night, as we dropped him off, he walked back to his new home with victory on his shoulders, the love of his community around him, and with that familiar strut which fits him so well. After all, if that’s how you feel, that’s how you should be walking.

***

Please consider making a donation to support our continued work at: bit.ly/3CMdonate.

Some Updates from Grace and Main

By this time next month, we’ll already have started the season of Advent and, with it, a new year in the Church calendar. As we continue our journey through the year and temperatures get cooler and days get shorter, we find ourselves preparing ourselves and our work for some seasonal rest, as well. We’re starting to bed down our Urban Farm for the fall and winter with some more compost and mulch and some “no till” beds. We’re taking some of the tool library’s tools in for repairs and re-cataloging what we have there. 

But just as winter brings Advent and Christmas and a new calendar year, we’re also looking forward to new births and new opportunities. Our housing work has taken some big steps forward in the last few months and will continue to do so in the months to come. We are hopeful that this new year will bring growth in our ability not only to provide shelter but also to provide homes and stability in new ways. We are also hopeful that next year will bring a chance for our big meals to resume in a safe way. We would love for you to join us in this hope and prayer as well as by being vaccinated.

As always, I welcome your questions and thoughts. Please feel free to reach out and, if you find yourself encouraged by what we’re working on and want to see if continue and grow, consider becoming a supporter.

Grace and Peace,
Joshua

A Short Prayer for Stable Shelter

O God who decreed a time for everything in its season — for rising and falling, for growing and withering;

O God who made a home for all creation in the midst of swirling chaos and void and who, in your earthly incarnation, had nowhere to lay your head;
intervene on behalf of all who lack stable shelter of their own and who make their homes in inhospitable places, convict those who, by their decision, make stable shelter a luxury missed by too many;
in order that we see your glory through the love of the people who aspire to represent you to the world.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

A Quote to Contemplate

Brennan Manning said, “The kingdom is not an exclusive, well-trimmed suburb with snobbish rules about who can live there. No, it is for a larger, homelier, less self-conscious caste of people who understand they are sinners because they have experienced the yaw and pitch of moral struggle.”

Some Updates from Grace and Main

Fall is coming and with it: cooler temperatures. The trees are starting the spread the rumor in orange, red, and golden whispers. There’s an insistent crispness to the air in the morning even if it relents to heat by midday. By the next time I write to you, I think we’ll have made it to genuine “sweater weather.” Well, I hope so at least. Fall has long been my favorite season; it feels like a sigh after summer’s exertion. In our work and life at Grace and Main, it has usually been a brief respite from the challenges of summer and before the freezing threats of winter. It’s a time to give thanks, even if we know it often feels too brief.

As I write this to you, we’re closing on a piece of property (a set of four apartments) on the Northside of Danville that I’m looking forward to telling you about. The purchase of these units was funded by the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship of Virginia and by a portion of the money granted along with the B.R. Ashby, M.D., Award for Outstanding Community Service that we received earlier this year. These apartments will be a big addition to our work to provide equitable, affordable housing in our neighborhoods and, in the long term, we look forward to expanding that work into many more places with the same values and approach. 

There’s still a lot of work to do, but there’s one thing I know for certain in this moment: we couldn’t do it without you and this is every bit as much your victory as it is ours. So, thank you. Thank you for your prayers, your support, your encouragement, and your trust. There’s good work ahead of us and it’s built on all the good work you’ve made possible in the past. Keep your eyes open and I’ll tell you more about what you’re helping to make happen.

As always, I welcome your questions and thoughts. Please feel free to reach out and, if you find yourself encouraged by what we’re working on and want to see if continue and grow, consider becoming a supporter.

Grace and Peace,
Joshua

A Short Prayer as Summer turns to Fall

O God who decreed a time for everything in its season — for rising and falling, for growing and withering;
speak to us in the waning of summer’s heat and in the slow turning of leaves to all your brilliant colors;
in order that we might give thanks for your unchanging nature in the midst of all change and, in doing so, might learn a gratitude deeper than any circumstances.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Some Stories Worth Rereading

In March of 2018, I wrote a story called “Precious Memories” about a family in a hospitality house and about what is precious to Jesus and his followers.

In October of 2017, I wrote a story following the death of Bruce called “Bruce Was Ready.” This September was the fourth anniversary of Bruce’s passing as we still miss him very much.

This story was written by Jessica Hearne, CBF Field Personnel serving through Grace and Main Fellowship.

***
Community doesn’t always show up where you expect it. Yes, sometimes you can find it like a rose in a manicured garden, beautiful and inviting, telling a story of care and commitment. Other times you’ll find it like a centuries-old oak tree firmly planted with roots that extend far beneath the surface. But we’ve found over and over again that community has a curious way of showing up in the places you might think it won’t or shouldn’t. The bonds of community can arise in inconvenient and unanticipated ways, like a dandelion pushing up through an inhospitable sidewalk. Sometimes it is not the goodness of the soil that seems to nurture community so much as it is the opportunity to cultivate something beautiful.

One of the unexpected places community has popped up in our lives has been a couple of minivans donated to our community as a way to provide rides. It’s good to have a public transportation system in Danville but, like so many places the size of our city, it just can’t meet all the many, complex, and varied needs of our people. Bus routes don’t always run by the most convenient stops. Buses stop running at 6 pm during the week and do not run at all on Sundays. There is a “Reserve-a-Ride” service that operates in the evenings, but it is four times more expensive than the regular bus service and must be reserved at least a day in advance. Reserving the bus wouldn’t normally be a problem. After all, Grace and Main has provided bus tokens for our people for years but, during the Covid-19 pandemic, new restrictions for social distancing meant that there were fewer seats to be had.

Denise called me one day last year after I had not heard from her in several months. She had been injured and needed a ride to her eye doctor. Medicaid transportation was not an option because the appointment was urgent, the bus schedule wouldn’t get her there in time, and it takes at least forty-eight hours to reserve transportation through Medicaid. Fortunately, I was free and could get her to the appointment. As we were reconnecting on the ride to the doctor, she unfolded her transportation woes more fully. She and her daughter had moved out of the neighborhood that was walking distance to her job and, while that was good in many ways, Denise was now having trouble getting home from work. She was able to use the city bus to get to work in the afternoons, but it was much more complicated at night.

So, where there is a gap in the sidewalk, there’s room for the beautiful dandelion of community. I began giving Denise rides home from work on the evenings when the bus wasn’t available. We also gave more rolls of bus tokens for the evenings it was. The rides helped her keep her job and pay her bills, and they gave me an opportunity to catch up with Denise and her family.

Mrs. Stanford and her son used to take the bus to go to the local food pantry. In the last year, the boxes from the pantry have gotten so big that carrying them home on the bus is impossible. While it’s a blessing to have more than you can carry easily, it does mean that it’s harder to get it home. Using the community’s shared minivan, our leaders have been able to take the Stanford family, as well as many others, to pick up the food boxes that have been crucial to making ends meet. We have also helped many people make bigger trips to the grocery store, making it possible for folks to pick up fresh and perishable food without worrying about how to carry it all home. All the while, we’ve grown community in an unanticipated place.

Some of our Urban Farm leaders get to the garden using the bus system, but even more ride along together in what becomes a rolling conversation by the time we pick everybody up. But when Jack texted me one day and asked if I could pick him up early to go the garden, I knew he needed some time to talk in private. Jack has been helping take care of his sick friend Billy, and the physical and emotional strain was taking a toll. “I just need to vent,” he said as he got in the van. During the ten-minute drive from his place to the Urban Farm, we chatted about Jack’s trouble getting Billy to appointments, and how Billy didn’t want to get out of bed and it was making him sicker. We talked about all the physical work Jack was doing, lifting Billy in and out of his bed and chair, helping him bathe, and taking care of his house. And we talked about Jack’s frustrations with Billy’s family as they were making decisions about his care. When we arrived at the farm for our volunteer day, Jack revealed that he couldn’t actually stay to work because he had to get to the hospital for visiting hours to see Billy. He said he’d catch the bus and confessed that the ride that was really just an excuse to talk to someone he knew would listen. I told him he could vent to me anytime and took comfort in how community shows up where it’s needed and not just where it’s convenient.

So far this year, I have given over 250 rides to our friends in Danville who don’t have their own transportation. That’s more than fifty hours I have spent chatting with folks about their health, joys, and frustrations, and listening to stories about where they’ve been and what they’ve seen and experienced. Fifty hours of tending the gardens of community that may not always have the beauty of a rose or the longevity of an oak, but seem to have the tenacity and persistence of a dandelion instead. Fifty hours of learning that that’s a beauty and longevity of its own.

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Please consider making a donation to support our continued work at: bit.ly/3CMdonate.

A Short Prayer for People with Unstable Housing

O God who created the foxes and the birds and all the places they take refuge, and who,
before creating us, prepared a place for us where we might find home and community;
be especially close to those who have nowhere to lay their head and lay on our hearts a burden to make homes for all of your children;
in order that we might offer our hospitality to you through the lives of our brothers and sisters.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Some Stories Worth Rereading

In December of 2018, Jessica wrote a story called “The Good News of Obstacle Courses and Dance Parties” about what it’s like to live our way of life in community while having a child.

In June of 2017, I wrote a story called “Roland’s Unceasing Prayers” about one of our long-time leaders and his way of walking and praying through the neighborhoods.