Letter for 7day Street Retreat
A Sigh of Relief
The curtain that separates poverty from prosperity has been torn to shreds and all around me I hear people rumbling with despair and yet, even more palpable, what I see is the sigh of relief.
I listened to two men as one spoke about losing his corporate job and thanks to his friend, Karen, he was able to get work in a mall retail store. Not only is he making less money but his boss is much younger in both years and experience. This man did not speak as if he was disgraced or humiliated, he spoke with a sigh of relief. Again, while in the locker room at the gym, a man hangs up his cell phone, looked up and shouted out loud, "I got a job!" Another man asked him about it and they exchanged information. Apparently, he was looking for work also. Another sigh of relief. Walking down the street in the Tenderloin, I overhear someone on their cell phone speaking with a friend, he says, "I am so relieved that I was able to work something out with my landlord."
The sigh of relief is a wonderful gift. It is grace. It is community. It is that moment when Gratitude embraces us and offers us respite and renewal.
My name is Michael Mallory. I am about to leave the comforts of my home and spend seven nights on the streets of San Francisco. This will be the second time that I have done this and I do not do this alone. I am a Fool... A Faithful Fool. The Faithful Fools is a unique street ministry in the Tenderloin neighborhood of San Francisco. This seven night street retreat is a cornerstone to their mission statement, which says:
"We are called to a ministry of presence that acknowledges each human's incredible worth. Aware of our judgments we seek to meet people where they are, through the arts, education, advocacy and accompaniment. We participate in shattering myths about those living in poverty, seeing the light, courage, intelligence, strength and creativity of the people we encounter. We discover on the streets our common humanity through which celebration, community and healing occur."
My first street retreat experience was in last October. I realized many things from that experience. What I remember the most was the gratitude that I felt. I remember one night particularly. It was the night that I ventured away from the Tenderloin where food sources were abundant and decided to try my luck in the Castro neighborhood. There was a lot of competition when it came to panhandling and I only got fifty cents from one person. I was hungry and a little disappointed in myself and with the people around me. I decided to sleep in front of my church, St. Francis Lutheran, that night. I walked by a dumpster and bore witness to a man rummaging through it and pulling out unopened cartons of Häagen-Dazs ice-cream. I grabbed a carton of ice-cream, some potatoes that seemed to be good and cardboard to sleep on. A few moments later as I was sitting on the sidewalk in front of my church, a homeless girl that slept at the end of the block walked by me and said, "Is that all you have to eat. I'll be right back, someone gave me a package of chocolate-chip muffins. I'll bring you one." Moments later she came back with the package of muffins and said, "Here. Take as many as you like." I took one, said thank you and breathed a sigh of relief.
Each one of us that participates in this retreat carry our own questions that lead us to discoveries about ourselves and the world around us. Like the archetype of the Trickster, we push beyond our perceived boundaries to discover answers that lead only to more questions.
In the spirit of a retreat, we walk as if the demands of our accustomed daily routines do not exist. For my part, I hope to continue to search out the most simplest things that bring me close to that sense of gratitude--the relief in finding a hot cup of coffee, the relief in finding a bathroom, the relief in encountering kindness in a stranger and especially the relief that is community. It is a privilege to have the power to move out of the realm of comfortable living and to enter into the uncertainty of the streets. I hope that new insights and new relationships will come my way.
I write this open letter mostly to encourage you. To encourage you to see beyond the hectic schedules, the crumbling economy and the rhetoric of despair and to breath a sigh of relief. To be grateful for the friends you have, for the bed you sleep on, and for the little things that we sometimes forget to acknowledge.