kindness Archives - Central Outreach & Advocacy Center

by Cat Perkins

I believe that hands can tell a story.
I believe that time is an enemy and a friend, but when living on the streets it can be elusive.
I believe that a moment to tell a story can be a precious gift.
I believe that doing paperwork feels unnecessarily formal after the harrowing experiences some of our guests endure.
I believe that free water can heal both physically and mentally.
I believe that it is worth making time for our guests to have a comfortable place to sit and think.
I believe that a brief hug or handshake is a thank you worth a thousand words.
I believe that happiness is like a spirit, fighting to be seen and felt everywhere.

There are many things that I have come to believe since I started working at the OAC. It is hard for me to pick a brief moment in time from this year to share. For me, when I think of serving at Central OAC, experiences flash in my mind from many different interactions. I see the faces of those I’ve worked with and hear their voices as they tell me their stories. The big focus for me is on guests and their stories. All people deserve to know they are seen, but when you are marked as a “person in need”, many people turn their backs, or avert their eyes. We all know this, and yet all of us find ourselves doing it in one way or another. That’s why it’s all about stories. When you see someone who looks like they may be in need, remind yourself that they have a story, and they are human. Everyone deserves to know that someone believes they have value.

I believe that everyone has value.

Make space for people in the ways you are comfortable, and then try to see if you can make space in ways that make you uncomfortable. The program I’ve been serving through, Young Adult Volunteers, focuses on being uncomfortable, and when we find ourselves getting comfortable, the program encourages us to find ways to be uncomfortable again. Not worrying about your own comfort can make you more able to fully care for other people. I have to admit I have found myself comfortable in some of the parts of my work at Central, but I assure you, there is a time every day, that I experience discomfort. I consider it a great gift. I take a deep breath, and then dive in. A little over a year ago, I never would have thought I could do that, let alone learn to love it. I have found a passion in this place, a passion that is shared by the staff and volunteers, a passion for seeing those who often go unseen, hearing the stories and understanding the humanity of those who are rejected or seen as valueless. Central OAC is about helping people to help themselves, building back some confidence, and showing people their inherent value along the way.

As I prepare to leave, I can only express my gratitude to Central OAC for teaching me how to have humility, compassion, patience, and kindness for everyone. I feel God in this place, every day.

Cat is our year-long intern and will have her last day with us at the end of July. We’ve loved having her on board at the OAC, and we can’t wait to see what she’ll accomplish next!

by Brenna Lakeson

When I was in seminary, we would often talk about “thin places” – a phrase used by Irish priest John O’Donohue among others – to identify moments when the barrier between our earthly reality and the holy realm beyond seems to disintegrate. A thin place might be as simple as seeing the sun rise or as poignant as watching a child be born. A thin place is a moment where the boundary between yourself and God feels nonexistent, when the holy reaches out and touches you in a real way.

At the OAC, it can sometimes be difficult to find thin places. It can be loud and chaotic. Sometimes our guests are angry and yell, albeit for warranted reasons. Sometimes our guests are so tired of the brokenness they feel. On the other hand, though, thin places are all around us at the OAC: a guest letting a stranger borrow his phone to call home, a whole line of able bodied individuals letting a lady in a wheelchair cut in line. I want to share some of the thin places that I’ve been honored to bear witness to at the OAC, in the hopes that all of us will look for the thin places instead of the broken ones.

Paul

Recently, I woke up in the morning with a pulled neck muscle. It was hard for me to turn my head side to side. I did stretches at my desk during the day to try to get some mobility back. I apologized to each guest I met with, so they wouldn’t think that I was purposefully not looking in their direction. One guest in particular, “Paul”, took an interest in my neck injury. “That happened to me a while back,” he said. “You gotta do your stretches. And get some Bengay to put on there. That’ll do the trick.” Again on his way out, he reminded me to get some Bengay to relieve my pain.

About a week later, Paul joined our Main Frame program, and I saw him at the OAC one afternoon. “How’s your neck doing?” he called after me. I smiled. “It’s doing so much better, thank you for remembering!” I responded. With all that Paul had to worry about, he managed to remember my insignificant pulled muscle and wanted to know if I was doing okay. Whenever guests take the time to care for our staff and volunteers, I am always touched.

Mr. Peters

Last week, I worked with “Mr. Peters.” Mr. Peters was the first guest I served that morning. I was tired and wasn’t feeling very energetic. I just wanted to do my job and get through the list of guests without too much fuss. Mr. Peters, however, wasn’t having it. First thing, he asked me how I was doing on a scale of 1 to 10. He told me he was an 8.5. I told him I was about a 7, and he said he was determined to get me to at least an 8 by the time he left. When I asked him why he wanted to get a Georgia ID, he told me he needed it to give blood. Each time I smiled during our interaction, he would say “Are you at an 8 now?”. On his way out, I asked him if he needed any toiletries or snacks. He told me he didn’t want to take any because he wanted to save them for the “people who really need them.” He was, however, very excited to share some salt water taffy with me.

Despite his circumstances, Mr. Peters consistently found joy around him, even in some salt water taffy. What’s more, all he wanted was to use his abilities to make other people smile. After our meeting, he met with our representative from Social Security to apply for SSI benefits. It was clear to me that Mr. Peters didn’t have much going for him. Despite seeming like a nice grandfather, he didn’t seem to have any family that was supportive. But he made everyone he met feel like family. Despite not having any financial resources, he wanted to give what he did have – blood. Meeting with Mr. Peters forced me to check my own feelings at the door. I had come to work grumpy, but Mr. Peters had come to our center full of joy to share.

Jamal

Several months ago, I worked with “Jamal.” Jamal had nothing but the clothes on his back, and we were helping him get a Georgia ID. I gave him some of the donated clothes in one of our back rooms, and he was beyond grateful. On his way out, he asked if we had a comb. I told him that we didn’t. He wanted to comb out the braids in his hair to re-style it, but we didn’t have anything to offer him. He went on his way, and I didn’t think much of it.

However, about an hour later, I walked through our lobby only to catch a glimpse of Jamal sitting on the ground with one of our female guests squatting behind him, combing out his hair for him and re-braiding it. This moment has stuck with me in an indescribable way. These two guests, arguably some of our loudest and, at times, challenging guests, were taking care of each other. Like two children at a sleepover, they were chatting and braiding hair as though they had nothing else to worry about. I watched them for a few minutes, sharing stories and relaxing in the courtyard. It touched my heart to see our guests caring for each other in such an intimate way.

Our guests deal with more on a daily basis than many of us face in a lifetime. However, every day we see them reach outside of themselves and care for those around them. In circumstances where they have every reason to be selfish, they somehow find the strength to show compassion and kindness in often unexpected ways. In the midst of suffering, they recognize suffering in others. In the midst of trauma, they recognize the needs of others. There is great holiness in this, and also a wholeness: when we care for others, even when we are hurting, it helps us heal.