Pages and Pages

                 

Jess (right) having fun with a client

Savannah is a beautiful city, full of old southern charm and history.  The tourism industry in Savannah booms each year, especially during the spring and summer months. During this time millions of people visit the picturesque Downtown squares, River Street, and Tybee Island to see the large oak trees dripping with Spanish moss, the water sparkling off of the Savannah River, and Atlantic Ocean. The crowds pack the parks with picnic lunches, children, and dogs. The city comes alive at nighttime, full of revelers and fun.  This is the Savannah most people see during their short stay in “The Hostess City.”

               The Savannah I see every day is not so beautifully tinged.  I see the homeless men who sleep on the steps of City Hall.  I see the public housing units, crime-ridden with little police intervention, located two blocks from the expensive restaurants laden with well-dressed, beautiful people.  I see the men and women twisting palm leaves into flowers and crosses, peddling them to the couples and families meandering along River Street.  I continually look into the faces of the people, looking for the differences, trying to understand how their lives diverged so much.  Drugs, alcohol, familial instability, poor work ethics, government hand-outs, lack of education – the reasons that are given for viewing people who are impoverished as less than human.   What I strive to hear, though, is how similar we all are.  Every day at St. Mary’s Community Center I am face-to-face with the very same men and women and children who live each day in poverty. I laugh with them, cry with them, thank them for their help, am thanked for my help, talk about consequential and inconsequential things, and form bonds and relationships. 

               I have come to the conclusion that the overall prevailing mission of our Community Center, while not written on pamphlets or scrolled across the double doors, is to treat each person as a human being. I’m aware this sounds simple and idealistic and entirely too broad to make any practical, community-wide changes.  But I think that may actually be the point.  After being continually treated as a statistic, a number, a nameless and faceless member of some poorly-run system, wouldn’t it feel great to have someone look at you and respond, person-to-person?  To make someone feel human again is not a trivial matter; society has become so desensitized to people living in poverty that we can walk by someone sleeping on the steps of a downtown building at 3 A.M. without looking back at them because it’s ‘normal.’  I could tell all the stories in the world about my past year, but it would take pages and pages to tell each individual’s story.  I cannot tell one solitary story in hopes that my year, what I have seen and done, will be encompassed by it; every single day comes with its own stories.  I am just grateful that there are people who still willfully share their stories with others, and I hope that we all start to listen.

Jess Atkinson - St. Mary's Community Center - Savannah, GA

Simple Act of Kindness

        Every Friday I serve as the liaison and Spanish translator for the gentle chair yoga and meditation class offered specifically for the elderly diagnosed with arthritis.  Each time we meet, the class is tailored to meet the needs of the participants.  A woman who looked to be in her late fifties and had never attended this class before showed up one day and sat quietly and patiently waiting for class to begin.  As class started, the instructor welcomed this new participant to class and asked the usual opening question to everyone: “Is there anyone here experiencing some pain today?” and this new lady immediately raised her hand.  This simple question allowed her to open up about all of her chronic pain, both physical and emotional, and gave her the space to describe in detail, her miserable life, according to her.  With the other frequent participants in class, the yoga/meditation instructor willingly dedicated the whole class to suit this new participant’s needs, and the other participants keenly tried to assist her as well.  This woman continued talking about her past, which caused her to cry and remark that nothing, nobody and no doctor, could cure her pain.  The deepest pain seemed to be her feeling of loneliness.  I felt a sort of pain and sorrow as I translated her story to the instructor whose Spanish is very limited, realizing that this lady felt hopeless.  Her story was heartbreaking as she had been dealing with these feelings for such a long time.  When the one-hour of class had passed and class was dismissed, the instructor and I stayed with this woman and concluded that she needed more help than what was within our capacity.  It became apparent that she needed to see a professional mental health provider because she presented various symptoms of depression.  As I tried to console her, she started to tear up even more and after a fit of weeping, she finally found her words again and said to me: “Thank you for listening to my story… to what I had to say; no one has ever sat with me and listened to me for such a long time, thank you, young lady, thank you very much.”  The woman gave me a hug and left the room with the instructor to see one of our social workers to get her the help that she needed.  I was left standing there thinking to myself how much my presence meant to her.  Although it did not seem like she was listening to a word we were telling her, I discovered that she was absorbing everything.  Did I really say the magical words to get this lady to feel better and cure her depression? Not quite; all I did this afternoon was listen with compassion and respond gently.  I was reminded on this day that the simplest acts of kindness can make a big difference to others, even when we think that we are not making a difference, we may be doing more that we give ourselves credit for.

            This has connected to my overall experience here in New York, as I have been put out of my comfort zone and have been forced to pay attention to details that I have never paid any mind in the past.  It has caused me to think specifically on the little acts of kindness that can fit in my everyday life.  Like sharing a smile with a stranger on the subway where many people crush into the train each day; where everyone is afraid to speak to each other or simply say “Hi,” “Good morning,” or simply make eye contact.  Sometimes, I get a smile back but more often I don’t, but I still like to see the reaction on people’s faces and I wonder if they’re thinking that I’m crazy.  I feel satisfied when I succeed in getting a smile back.  At work, I greet participants with a smile and try to show my compassion for them with simple statements, questions, or comments.  Most people would agree that you do not necessarily need to tell someone “I love you” or “I like you” to let them know how much you care about them.  You can genuinely say, for instance, “the other day I was thinking about you,” “did you make it safe?,” “I miss you,” “I saw this and I thought about you,” “how did it go today?,” “good night, take care.”  I have noticed how simple words like these can tell how much you care about someone and can make a big difference in someone’s life.  I have learned, and I am still learning, so much about myself this year and much of my learning has come from my community members.  They have been great teachers this year and I will always be thankful with each and every one of them for being part of the process in helping me discover my own faith.  As we all learn how to live and pass on the

Angelica (maroon jacket) at staff retreat

spirit of mercy together, we also deepen our empathy for the people we serve.  I will always look back to this experience, and connect to the powerful reason of why I decided to go on this journey.

Angelica Perez - Mercy Center  Bronx, NY