Blessings in the Tenderloin

When I hear the word "travels", I think long plane flights (stale peanuts included), faraway journeys, unique and distinct cultures, and the eventual acquisition of a brand new insight into to the lives of others and, in turn of my own life. 

I suppose this weekend, though not what I would immediately tag as "travels with Bryn",wasn't so different.

The 'long plane flight' was instead a 30 minute walk, 1.5 miles south west of my cozy apartment in protected Pacific Heights to the infamous Tenderloin (TL) district; mind you, stale peanuts were still included. In a way, it was a faraway journey to a unique and distinct culture. My world in the gentrified hubs of San Francisco is farther from that of the TL residents 1.5 miles away from me than any European city I've been to. The TL culture is distinct, plagued by vices that I don't even think about in my daily life, and yet free from miseries that I carry on my shoulders. My time there, left me with new insights, monumental in my life and in my development into the citizen, human, woman, I want to be. 

And so, my 'travels' continue...

To give you a summary, the 48-hour "TL throw-down"(as I like to call it) was two different events, each split into three parts. Saturday's event was a conference put on by City Impact, a Christ-centered organization that provides relief programs while breaking unhealthy cycles through education, leadership training, and spiritual transformation. Sunday's event was called Serve the City, organized by the collaboration of City Impact and Reality Church SF. Both events consisted of a morning message/worship service, an afternoon of outreach in the TL, and an evening message/worship service.

When I found out my community group and I had been assigned to the foot washing tent during afternoon outreach both Saturday and Sunday, I wasn't particularly ecstatic. I suppose, to a certain extent, what I had imagined when I registered was days filled with glorious games played with little kids who would love and look up to us, or perhaps handing out clothes to people who would gladly and gratefully accept them. No, foot washing was to be another matter all together. What I didn't realize at the time was that washing the feet of the people in the tenderloin would be one of the most uplifting, heart-transforming things I would ever do. 

The act of taking off a stranger's shoes and socks, rubbing and cleaning their feet in warm water, taking a pumice stone to their dead skin and tough spots, clipping their brittle and ingrown toenails, massaging lotion onto their bruised legs, and putting a pair of new, clean socks on their feet, is an act in and of itself filled with compassion. I could not help but love the people I was serving as they allowed me to see, touch, and heal them in a way that made them vulnerable and possibly self-conscious. I learned to see their feet as God sees their feet: perfect. How could I judge ingrown toenails, unpolished callouses, untreated wounds, when those were perhaps the least of their worries in life, when the aesthetics of their toenails was not their top priority? 

I met a man who had been attacked from behind years ago while working as a meter maid handing out parking tickets. He hadn't been able to work since, do to head injury. After I washed his feet, we held hands and prayed for healing and recovery in his life. Then we hugged goodbye. 

I met a local woman whose family had died in the San Francisco Earthquake. She had been shot and stabbed several times and was still recovering. It was very hard to understand her slurred speech, but, when she sang gospel hymns, her words were perfect and distinct. I sat with her and many others at the prayer tent for 30 minutes holding her hands and crying as I listened to her story. Even as we sat there, I could see her hunched back begin to straighten. When we went to the clothing tent together, I held up items for her approval or disproval; we seemed to have different tastes. When I held up what I thought looked very comfortable and warm -albeit a little homely-, she responded "Ah hell no! You know better than that." :)

I met a Napelese woman, probably about 75 years old, who didn't speak any English. We communicated via body language for 20 minutes as I rubbed her amazingly soft feet, and I learned that she had come to America from Nepal two years earlier. As she was leaving she turned around and hugged me, and her sister and daughter eagerly approached me to shake my hand and exchange 'Namaste's before walking away.

I met a man from Veracruz, living in Daly City, who had been volunteering with the city earlier that day to pay off a parking ticket. He told me he had had to "kick out" homeless people sleeping under the bridge on 11th St as part of his volunteering. He said that that was particularly hard for him because he had slept their many times while trying to find work in San Francisco. When I asked to pray for him he smiled, removed his hat, and said "yes, please please."

I met a man named Indian Joe. He is a total Alice Cooper doppelgänger, outfit, make-up and all. He was born on an Indian Reservation and had made his way into San Francisco, where he was recently featured in an Emmy-winning documentary titled "A Brush with the Tenderloin" and had proudly attended the awards banquet in his usual rock 'n' roll-style get-up amidst the sequen gowns and suits worn by other guests. He asked to take a picture with me, since I was wearing an AC/DC shirt. He was one of the friendliest people I've ever met.  

The list goes on and on. I'm sure if I asked any other volunteers this weekend, they would have their own stories to tell. Stories of amazing people whose pasts make my life look like a scene from the movie Pleasantville. Many of the folks that I met were just thrilled to know that someone was interested in their story and their well being. What struck me the most is that, as I loved on them, they loved on me right back. I tried to explain to them that, the reason I was out there serving was because I had been so loved by God and by those around me that I wanted to give some of that love to other people. But, even as I said that, I realized that they gave their love just the same, whether or not they had felt loved by the world the same way I had. 

I went to serve and bless others, but I was surprised to find that the people of the Tenderloin blessed me more than I could have ever blessed them. Mmm, God is good.