year.glass.half.full.

it is almost exactly the halfway point of my year of service in Camden, and my cup has already been filled to overflowing, more times than i can count. all i can do is name a few grains from the hourglass of this year's passing, a few drops from the River Grateful:

- St. Clare House, where i live with three other Franciscan Volunteer Ministers (FVMs), now has a prayer room! with sage green walls we painted ourselves, cheap gray carpet we installed ourselves, a comfy couch from craigslist, a bunch of pillows from Goodwill for sitting on the floor, a small table populated with candles we've been given, a space heater we were given by someone at church who had an extra, a zen garden populated with rocks from the recent demolition of the most hazardous house in our neighborhood, a little lamp, a framed picture of Jesus laughing, and a frame containing four watercolor pictures created by each one of us FVMs. it is already a life-giving space for us and it is exciting to think of how it will be a blessing to future volunteers, too.

- Francis House continues to be a haven. a family. a breath of fresh air. a healing prayer. a place where we remember, in the (slightly modified) words of India Arie, that the worst disease in the world is not cancer, it's not AIDS; the worst disease in the world is fear and hate, and the cure is love. and love certainly lives here. it is a place where those whose lives have been unalterably affected by HIV and AIDS come and are invited to experience that healing love and spread it to others. and they definitely spread it to me, every day i walk in the door to spend time there.

- i already know the names of all my new students in both the morning and evening ESL classes, which just started a new term this month. so far, they seem to understand when i communicate in Spanish, and they seem to be growing in understanding and confidence of how to communicate in English, and they even seem to enjoy the comic relief of when i get mixed up and things come out in Spanglish :)

- the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd graders still ask me if they can sing the songs i taught them for the Advent Pageant and for Martin Luther King Day. some of them swarm me when i enter their classrooms on Friday mornings, and some of them are constantly complaining that someone else is talking, and some of them ask to go to the bathroom every five minutes, and some of them burst into renditions of "we will, we will, rock you" whenever i have them start tapping or clapping a beat, and yet all of them have memorized how to sing "hello" in eight different languages and seem to proudly raise their voices as we start each class with this greeting to "all the children of the world!"

- i now have a chance to call upon my choral/vocal experience in order to lead breathing exercises, high sighs and sirens, and other warmups with the new choir for middle schoolers, as i assist a fellow FVM in directing them on Wednesday afternoons. we have started off our repertoire with a favorite of mine, "Siyahamba/we are marching in the light of God", and they seem to be rolling with the syncopation pretty well and even shaping their phrases a little bit. watch out, Chanticleer.

- the Camden Peace Art Project has been re-visioned by another fellow FVM and myself to integrate music and peacebuilding activities along with the primary focus on art skills and projects. AND, we have received several generous gifts and an important grant that is enabling us with not only the resources but the essential element of hope that we need in order to continue offering this biweekly after-school program for the children of this city.

- last week was Christian Unity Week in Camden, organized by CCOP. the kick-off was on Martin Luther King Day, with a workshop series throughout the day at St. Anthony's, all about community organizing, because that's what Dr. King did so phenomenally and got in trouble for, not just community service, not painting walls or picking up trash or serving in a soup kitchen, as helpful and necessary as those things may be. each evening there was a worship gathering at a different church around the city, and a different pastor/priest/preacher delivered the 'word', and different community members read the scriptures and prayed the prayers and made the announcements. BUT, the same choir, the Camden Christian Unity Choir, led the music every night. and i was in it. :) we sang mostly some contemporary gospel standards, but they also invited me to teach them a couple of songs in Spanish. claro que si, cantamos "alabare, alabare, alabare, alabare, alabare a mi Senor!"

Monday night at Camden Bible Tabernacle

Wednesday night at St. Bartholomew's Roman Catholic church

St. Bart's

Thursday night at Faith Tabernacle Church

Friday night at Antioch Baptist Church

francis.house.fridays.

the time has come to tell about a typical day at Francis House. although there are really no 'typical' days. i go on Tuesdays, too, and they're also open on Thursdays, but Friday is generally more of a full house, always bringing an unpredictable mix of people and predicaments, but often becoming the highlight of my week.

so here's what happens - or shall we say, here's what could potentially happen if you, my friend, happened to come by this little corner of Camden on one of these days:

10 or 11 am - so you show up at the front gate and spend a few minutes admiring the colorful, meaningful tile mosaics that adorn the front face of the otherwise-plain brick building. So this is Francis House. you go inside, and find a few people sitting in the dining room reading the paper and chatting, some in the living room listening to the parakeets chatter, some hanging around the kitchen checking on the hot lunch cooking, some sitting outside on a picnic bench smoking their cigarettes and chatting – and everyone wants to greet you, say hi, hug you, say “God bless you! How’ve you been? Where you from? Welcome to Francis House!” so, you go back in to the dining room and pour yourself a cup of coffee or grab a can of soda that’s sitting on one of the long tables, and take your pick of the spots and crowds to join in the conversation. and you hear talk about life and weekend plans and weather and public transportation and the Phillies going to the World Series and friends or family who are sick or caught in the drug scene, and about their own stories, the good and the bad, the mistakes and rejections and temptations and the victories and blessings too. you listen, you learn, you are reminded that life is a gift and nothing is more important at this moment than simply being. here. wholly.

12 noon – you hear a bell ringing and a general rumble of people making their way into the dining room, so you join the flow and let your hands be clasped by a new friend on one side and a complete stranger on the other. It’s circle time, goes the group consensus, whispered and shouted and evident in every expectant eye. once everybody is holding hands, you focus in on a solid, fiery-headed woman with her arm in a sling, standing in the middle of the circle, inviting you all to take “deep cleansing breaths”, then introducing all the visitors, volunteers, and people who’ve been away for a while. you hear some calling her “mama”, some “ma’am”, and some “Sue”. So here’s the one who birthed this place and keeps it going and growing under her wings. each introduction is celebrated with handclaps and shout-outs, making sure you feel the love, and you surely do. now it’s time for the real business of circle time: what/who do we need to pray for today? names and news-flashes of concern and thanksgiving burst forth from people’s lips like kernels in a popcorn popper… and when the pace dies down, maybe somebody volunteers to pray spontaneously, or maybe Sue leads out with "Who woke us up this morning?" and everyone joins in praying "God, give us the serenity to accept the things we cannot change, the courage to change the things we can, and the wisdom to know the difference. God's will, not ours, be done. Amen Amen!" and the hands on either side of you drop their grip to clap their affirmation. and so do you. thus, the circle breaks off and snakes into the kitchen to line up for the food. only, you realize, you’ve already been fed, somewhere inside where food can’t begin to satisfy.

Once-in-a-lifetime - if you had come last Friday to circle time, you would have witnessed an incredible moment. we were privileged enough to listen to a poem written and read by a lady who has only been coming to Francis House for three weeks, only on Fridays, and yet as she read her poem, i was brought to tears and spirit-shivers by the way she expressed the heart of the mission of Francis House and all we hope for it to be for the people who come here. i looked at Sue in the middle of the circle and saw her eyes welling up, and she saw that i was about to let it leak too, and later as she was hugging me goodbye for the day, she said, "so, you're a wimp, too!" but truly, it was incredible to hear what the Spirit of Love has done in one much-abused, usually-quiet-and-reserved woman as a result of spending just a few hours in this place i am privileged to be a part of. she was showered with a massive outpouring of applause and amen's from the whole circle group, too; everyone knew that she had seen clearly and struck the core of our common experience with her words and her attitude of gratitude for God guiding her to this place. you would have loved it. and maybe you would have given her a hug and thanked her for her poem, and she would have said, “I love you, baby”, and you would have trembled with amazement that you even get to cross paths with such a lady, let alone receive her appreciation or affection. you might be at a loss for words. But that would be okay.

12-something - you finally find yourself at the front of the line, and you help yourself to some hot pasta and sauce or chicken and potatoes or sausage and sauerkraut or some kind of soup and vegetables or whatever they’ve got going on there, and some salad and maybe a breadstick or two. as you head back into the dining room to sit down and share in the meal, you notice that there’s a few who can't get food for themselves, so their plates are being served up and brought to them by another member of the…family, yes, that’s what it feels like…

Around 1 pm – once lunch is over, you may be in for a treat, and i don’t mean the sugar-sweet kind for your tastebuds…i’m talking about some serious ear candy and real endorphin-boosting events here. you, my friend, have been invited to a 'concert' by the original/founding Francis House attendee. as you follow him down the hall to the Francis House chapel, one of us FVMs fills you in on a little background info: he's been living with HIV for 30 years now, since he was 21; he grew up in Camden and Philly, went too far with drugs, went into a coma for 3 months, Sue took care of him, got him back on his feet; now he's living in his own apartment, still needs a lot of help, needs a cane or walker to walk safely, repeats himself a lot and slurs his speech so you gotta listen hard; but his gift, what he loves to do to welcome newcomers to Francis House, is to take them into the chapel, plug in his little boombox he carries everywhere, pop in a disc of Marvin Gaye or Barry White or Stevie Wonder or Michael Jackson, and sing along with all his soul. and this is what graces your senses for the next half hour or so as you sit in the first pew row facing this marvel of a man who is currently sprawled on the green felt carpet on the front step of the chapel. some of the tracks skip and scratch, and some he fast-forwards past to get to his favorites, but each one truly is a gift from his heart to yours. and you’ll know when he’s wrapping up because he’ll put on an instrumental track and talk to his little audience, asking you how you liked 'the show', telling you straight out that it was 'awesome' and that he's 'the best! I’m the best! I’m the best!’ and you lean forward and listen closely when he starts telling some cautionary stories from his turbulent life, some crazy true shit [sprinkled liberally with many such descriptions because they’re really the only ones that fit], and you’re like, This guy did WHAT!?! WHAT THE?!? but you hear him, too, saying how blessed he is, and how he’s done with all that, and you might even hear him give a shout-out to how much he loves us FVMs, how we're his 'crew', how God is good to him and gave him this calling to be a blessing to Francis House. and at some point Sue or somebody pokes their head in to say that his ride is there to pick him up, or maybe just to say “enough’s enough! Get back in here with everybody else!” and so you watch as the boombox and CDs get shoved back in his bag, as he juggles his long legs back up to standing position, and as he shuffles along out of there, leaning heavily on his walking-aid device of choice. you wonder, How does it feel? What does he need? What does anybody need? but all you know is you needed that. and you will never listen to those songs the same way again. and again, you’ve been nourished somewhere you didn’t even know you needed to be.

2 pm or so – it’s closing-up time for Francis House, and you see people making the rounds for hugs, zipping up their jackets and gathering up their bags of leftovers or personal care items or whatever they needed to take home. you wave them off with a sigh that could mean anything in the world. on your way out, Sue wraps you in a hug that’s like – oh. that’s what it feels like to be hugged by God in Momma form. and you know you’re not the first to think that. and you want to learn how to love like that. and you will. because God. loves. you.

Amen.