How I Spent My Summer Vacation

or "What is Sidewalks Again?"

Sidewalks is sharing a house with fifteen people.

Sidewalks is putting up with all the odd socks in the living room.

Sidewalks is learning how to dougie, juggle, and do a mean frat-snap tobacco-slap.

Sidewalks is admitting that you miss your nightly John-butt-whupping at Dutch Blitz.

Sidewalks is finishing up a four-hour budget conversation and realizing it’s two in the morning.

Sidewalks is being truthful during conflict.

Sidewalks is trusting that if you cut a person’s ear off, Jesus can put it back on.

Sidewalks puts the unity in community.

Sidewalks is teaching English to a refugee from Burma.

Sidewalks is listening to a former attorney tell you how he became homeless.

Sidewalks is getting a silly song stuck in your head.

Sidewalks is preparing a talk about sex thirty minutes after it was supposed to start.

Sidewalks is spanking the guys at CHOC at checkers.

Sidewalks is God using three white kids to minister to eleven inner-city teens.

Sidewalks puts the hip in internship.

Sidewalks is diving into life in the city.

Sidewalks is learning by heart the tune of a particularly sensitive car alarm.

Sidewalks is buying freshly fried empanadas and eating them in the cook’s kitchen.

Sidewalks is giving people dignity and respect without waiting for them to earn it.

Sidewalks is learning about racial reconciliation from a four-year-old.

Sidewalks is trusting the leading of the Holy Spirit.

Sidewalks is loving people even if they don’t fit your theology.

Sidewalks puts the Cross in culture-crossing.

Sidewalks is learning to put what’s wrong into words and trace the rottenness to its roots.

Sidewalks is noticing an eerie emptiness at the Marriot.

Sidewalks is checking into CHOC for a night of life with almost nothing.

Sidewalks is a bullet grazing the roof of our car.

Sidewalks is waking up to news of a crime scene around the corner.

Sidewalks is looking into the depths of the darkness so we stop taking the light for granted.

Sidewalks puts the amen in lament.

Sidewalks is letting God screw with your worldview.

Sidewalks is the shock of watching all your assumptions shatter on a tile floor.

Sidewalks is two days of not talking to God because He might not let you go to the mission field.

Sidewalks is questioning your motives for questioning your motives.

Sidewalks is throwing out dusty rules to make room for new life.

Sidewalks is coming to terms with the prospect of a lot of long conversations with lots of people for the rest of your life.

Sidewalks puts the quest in question.

Sidewalks is saying hi to everyone you walk past.

Sidewalks is sitting on the porch watching people play hopscotch.

Sidewalks is praying for a person you’ve just met.

Sidewalks is choose-your-own adventure.

Sidewalks is eating cake and cantalope with a sage Muslim gardener and a crew of middle schoolers.

Sidewalks is saying yes to a cold cola on a hot day.

Sidewalks puts the try in relational ministry.

Sidewalks is getting excited about having conflict.

Sidewalks is dreaming about new ways of living and following Jesus.

Sidewalks is taking inventory of what we need to be content.

Sidewalks is tuning in to our Holy Ghost imagination.

Sidewalks is building up the ancient ruins and repairing the ruined cities.

Sidewalks puts the do in Kingdom of God.

Sidewalks is learning to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God.

Five Blocks Away But Worlds Apart

Throughout Sidewalks I interned at Water Street Rescue Mission, where four days per week I interacted with many homeless folks in Lancaster. I listened to the stories of the men, women, and children I met. Each story was different. Different backgrounds, life choices, tragedies, obstacles, injustices, levels of hope for the future. Different attitudes towards their current state of homelessness. It was truly a blessing to hear each story. My eyes were opened both to injustice and astounding faith. At various points I could relate to some of the stories-this area of brokenness or that frustration. Yet overwhelmingly, I felt distanced from every person who told me their story.

Why? Well, it's kind of obvious. Many wore the same outfits everyday. I wore clean clothes and a red "Intern" lanyard. They worried about their next meal. I ate a snack almost everyday when I got home from work. Oh-and I slept in a bed. I had space that felt like mine. They slept on mats and had absolutely no space to call their own.

Enter the plotting (and lovable) InterVarsity staff. To bridge some of the distance I had been feeling and highlight the levels of privilege many of us have always lived with, they crafted a simulation that turned our Sidewalks world upside down for a night. Joining me to tell the story is my wonderful fellow Bucknellian, David. Check out our experiences below!

10 am: Community Meeting. It's budget time! Usually we each receive our "week's pay" of roughly $30, pool our resources, and plan our spending. Not this week.
Caroline: Oh snap. I got "fired." That means no paycheck. Which means I will not be able to pay my rent... which means I have no place to sleep tonight.
David: Oh snap. I got a $100 raise. I'm rolling deep this week...$130. And my superiors are sending me to the Marriott Hotel/Convention Center for some R&R. Nice.

6 pm:
Caroline: I'm hungry! At work ("fired" doesn't really mean fired in real life, just the simulation). No time for dinner, working 4-9:30!
David: I'm hungry too! I was done working at 3pm, so I've been chilling until dinnertime at the house. Ethiopian cuisine, yum! Looking forward to tonight; my bag is already packed.

7:15-7:30pm:
Caroline: Busy, busy, busy. Still working!
David: Just arrived at the Marriott. Wow, it's big and fancy. I felt kind of important going up to the counter saying, "Hi, my room is already paid for. My name's David Gorman." Up to the 16th floor. My room is awesome (huge comfy bed with four pillows...I'll only need one) with an incredible view! The sidewalk is a world away from up here. I can see the Water Street shelter from up here.

9:35 pm:
Caroline: Outside the shelter, I take off my I.D. and stuff it in my suitcase (no home to store my possessions!). I walk in the doors to the shelter. It's strange to be on the other side of the desk. The worker asks me my name and a few other particulars. Another points me to a mat near the front of the room. That's where I'll sleep-- a rectangular mat about 1 inch thick. In a room full of 50 people.
David: After exploring the hotel/convention center for an hour, I venture outside. The hotel was eerily quiet (minus the piano music coming from a mechanical piano...what??) and I wanted some fresh air. I wandered around the city, found a bench and sat, listening to the sounds of life around me. I have the freedom to stay out all night if I wanted -- no curfew.

10 pm:
Caroline: Lights out! I start to stretch out on my mat... nope, can't do that-- unless I want to bless my neighbor with a pair of runner's feet in her face (yes, gross... and yes, runner's feet are especially icky, ha). So I curl up on my blanket, pull my thin sheet on, and lay my head down on a small towel I brought for a pillow. Still in my work clothes. Still hungry. As I try to calm down enough to fall asleep, I notice a few things. One-- there are a lot of people in this room. Two-- it is not dark. The streetlights keep it pretty light. Three--the woman next to me whispers "I'm hungry" to her friend. Wow. How can I ever say I am hungry? I had lunch and I will have breakfast. That was hard to hear.
David: I'm tired of being outside and the pool I saw during my hotel tour is wooing me back to the Marriott. The pool doesn't disappoint; it's incredibly life-giving and fun.

11 pm:
Caroline: Still awake. It is LOUD. A lot of snoring! Every few minutes someone is getting up to go to the bathroom. I can't get comfortable. I ball up my sheet to support my neck a bit more and wrap my blanket around my shoulders to get a little bit warmer (the AC is on). It's going to be a long night.
David: I journal for a little bit, shower, then get ready for bed. I set my alarm for 7:30. Lights off. My room is dead silent. My bed feels so good. It's full and fluffy and huge -- I can stretch my long legs. My eyes grow heavy and my mind drifts off...

2-3 am:
Caroline: Can't sleep. Not comfortable. Cold. Loud snorers and shuffling feet are not noises that lull one to sleep.
David: Zzzzz.....

5:45 am:
Caroline: Time to get up! Lights go on and everyone clears out by 6. I am surprised by how many have left the room already. I roll up my sheet and blanket as a worker hands me a meal card. The shelter also provides some meals for their clients. I stand up and head out the door, rolling my suitcase behind me. The workers have already stacked all the mats. The walk home is quiet. It's sprinkling.
David: Zzzzz......

7:45 am:
Caroline: I am awake and at home. Simulation is over and I find myself comfortably situated in a recliner with a cup of coffee in my hand. An experience many of those sleeping around me may or may not have for the rest of their lives.
David: I wake up -- good morning! Time to order room service! I order the pancakes from the children's menu, but it's still too much for me to finish. I leave the Marriott refreshed with a full stomach, ready to take on the day.

This experience rocked me. I still feel an incredible amount of distance from the homeless I worked with, for obvious reasons. Yet experiencing even just a little of what they experience on a regular basis gave me sensitivity to their situation, grew my understanding of homelessness, and gave me a taste of what it truly means to come alongside the poor in their struggles.

Father, soften my heart and give me the courage to seize future opportunities You give me to immerse myself in the world of the impoverished. Help me see from where they stand.