It’s difficult to put my spring break into words. I know, for sure, that it’s something I wish everyone could experience at least once in their life. I guess I’ll jump right in and see where the words take me…
Part 1
[Day 1]
Saturday, March 19, 2016
I was packed in a red North Central van with nine strangers on the road to Denver, Colorado for a spring break BREAKAWAY service trip. For those of you who don’t know, BREAKAWAY is a “student organization that plans service trips in an effort to foster educational, cultural and spiritual growth opportunities for students as individuals and as a group…” (Pulled that from my notes).
I went on this trip for two reasons:
There’s not much to tell about the first day because we spent about nine or so hours in the car before making an overnight stop in Kearney, Nebraska. A church housed us for the night so we could recharge for the remainder of the drive on Sunday. For the most part, the first day and a half was a getting-to-know-you experience. There were nine of us. All girls. Our ages and majors were all over the board. We were 18 to 24 with degrees from communications to undecided.
I’m a quiet person to begin with, so this trip forced me to go outside my comfort zone. I was with nine strangers for a week, looking to serve people who are homeless. There was no way I was going to walk away without a new Cardinal family by the end of spring break. I knew this experience was going to be a small journey in my life and it turns out, the rest of the group walked away feeling the same.
[Day 2]
Sunday, March 20, 2016
The second day we cruised through the last stretch of Nebraska to Denver. We made it sooner than we initially planned, which gave us time to unpack, stretch and gather ourselves for the long week ahead.
To be honest, I was extremely nervous. I had sat down with Karli Saner, assistant director of ministry and service, and talked about each focus for the BREAKAWAY trips. She said Denver was unique because it wasn’t your typical service trip with Habitat for Humanity and building houses. In Denver, the plan was to work with the Center for Student Missions (CSM) and volunteer at various locations to help people who are homeless, refugees and single moms with difficult backgrounds
So how does it work?
CSM provides a host who leads the group to different organizations, shelters, and so on, in order to immerse people in the struggling environments which allows them to learn, understand and help those in need. Our CSM host was Josh Frase.
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The first night we were in Denver, we had dinner with Josh at a Native American restaurant called Tocabe. The set up was like Chipotle, but it tasted WAY better. Don’t believe me? Go to Denver.
We all worked to get to know each other and learn more about what our week was going to be like. I could feel the group growing more comfortable as we learned to open up, especially considering we were just squished together in a car for 16 hours.
Anyways, after we ate, Josh brought us to a bridge that overlooked the Denver skyline. Here we split in half and did an exercise that helped us understand what our week was going to be like approaching different people. Some would be open and happy to share their story, while others would be hesitant or resistant to our offering of service. After the demonstration, Josh talked about how we are like the little lights in the city. We could make a difference.
I wish I could remember his exact words because it was the first moment on the trip that lit a fire in me. I felt inspired to do something good – the one life goal I never wanted to fail. I remember, after we came together to pray for the week, I walked toward the van with a growing desire to jump in and serve.
[Day 3]
Monday, March 21, 2016
After spending the first two days in the car, it was a nightmare trying to get myself to wake up. With a quick shower and a killer cup of coffee (Columbian whole bean and hazelnut creamer), I was amped up for the day.
Today, I met Edgar. Here’s a little background on him:
Our first human instinct when seeing someone on the street is to judge. We judge a lot. Don’t kid yourself if you’re thinking you aren’t one of those people. Just admit it…I had to.
Edgar is one of the many men, who stand on a street in Denver, waiting for people who need help with work to stop and hire them for a few hours a day or maybe more. Sometimes the people who drive by request certain guys if they like the work they did before. Sometimes they pay the men and sometimes they “forget.” Some of the men do the work to support their families – like Edgar. Others do it to get money for a drink or a smoke.
My first reaction to this experience was to huddle next to the other North Central students and let the few experienced girls talk. I mean, what was I supposed to say? How am I supposed to approach these men without looking or feeling stupid? We had pastries and water to hand out, but I was awkwardly holding my camera not knowing what to do. Would they even understand me? Most of the men’s first language was not English. I was out of my element and afraid I was going to walk away from this trip without making a difference, let alone talking.
But after standing with four other girls and slowly contributing to the conversation, it got easier. Edgar could speak pretty good English, even though he didn’t think so. We could understand him just fine. I did wish I could speak Spanish though…the two years in high school were lost on me a long time ago, unfortunately.
Our morning was the perfect way to start the week though. Each experience pushed me further out of my comfort zone and I’m sure the rest of my group would say the same thing.
Lunch was eye opening, to say the least. Instead of grabbing a quick burger and fries, we went to the Denver Rescue Mission shelter and ate with people who are homeless. Josh called it a “plunge” which meant we were going to get the experience from the inside. When we walked up to one of the volunteers, they immediately assumed we were there to volunteer, but Josh explained to them who we were and why we were there. I felt bad because it felt wrong to eat the food for people who are homeless when I had money to buy my own meal.
When we walked in, you could feel the air change. The shelter was set up where you would enter the building and it opened into a courtyard with tables for people to sit and an open roof. The second entrance led into the dining hall. At first, some of the volunteers were concerned about our safety, so they led us straight into the dining hall before they opened for lunch. We could feel the stares from people all over the courtyard. We knew they were wondering why we were there and judged us the same way we normally judged them. To be honest, I was pretty nervous. I didn’t know what to expect so I looked ahead of me and kept walking.
When we got into the dining hall, one of the guys that runs the shelter came to talk to us and was happy to have us sit in for lunch. He suggested we jump in line with the other people to wait for lunch to be served. We headed back out into the courtyard. Again, I was nervous, but when I looked around at the people that were homeless, I felt bad. I felt helpless.
That day we broke into small groups and sat amongst the other people to try to generate conversation and hear some of their stories. My group met a man named John who talked about conspiracies and a woman named Donna who exchanged a few words, but not too much.
In the afternoon we walked through Five Points neighborhood to learn about its history and see how the area was going through some major changes. Money was coming to this struggling neighborhood. By the end of the tour, we were supposed to find someone on the street to buy coffee for and see if they would be open to conversation. The group I was in met a woman and her mother. Her immediate reaction to our request was “I don’t have time.” But once we told her that we were just looking for more background on the neighborhood she stopped and opened up willingly. She actually did a project on Five Points for her master’s degree. The other group met a man named “Lil’ Eddy.” He had a rough background dealing with drugs and gangs, from the little I heard about his story.
Throughout the day it surprised me how people were willing to open up if you just showed genuine interest and compassion. We’re always “so busy” racing through our own lives, when there are people around us that just want someone to listen to them…maybe just for a minute, or even an hour.
We closed the night with a prayer tour around the city and laid on a parking-lot ground for a few minutes to understand what it’s like to sleep on the streets.
It’s cold, damp, hard and lonely.
[Day 4]
Tuesday, March 22, 2016
Rise and shine! We were up before the crack of dawn. At exactly 4:00 a.m. Let’s just say I had A LOT of coffee on Tuesday.
The plan was to help prep and serve breakfast at the Denver Rescue Mission shelter, find someone on the street and buy things they need, hike at Red Rocks and help deliver food and prayer with Mean Street Ministries – contrary to their name, they are the nicest people.
In the morning, I worked with Tiffani Merwin (’19), and a guy named Jake. The three of us took trays from people when they were finished eating, cleared them and stacked them for the dishwashers. While we were clearing plates, I learned that Jake is in the program that the shelter has to help get people out of their negative environment. Part of the program involves working at the shelter. He works 6 days a week helping with meal prep and cleaning. Jake’s been in the program for almost a month.
That whole morning, I found myself cheerier than I normally am in the morning. At home, I roll out of bed, dress for the day and drag my feet for the first part of the morning. Today, I felt like I needed to put on my bright, happy face. I was slowly learning to appreciate every minute I was standing clothed, fed and loved because it was a lot more than some of these people had. I don’t say that rudely either.
That whole morning I smiled and sounded really happy, even though all I was doing was cleaning off trays. Even Tiffani was making jokes about my cheerful mood. My hope was that I wasn’t obnoxious or anything. My happiness was genuine and not over the top and forced. I didn’t have a million dollars to pass out to pull these people out of their lives, so I gave the only thing I could think of – joy.
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After we finished our morning, we all plopped down on our bunks and passed out for an hour or so. We woke up and were right back out on the streets. We’re all familiar with being approached by someone on the streets looking for financial support –even a few quarters and dimes makes a difference for some people. Josh taught us how we could offer support in a different way. When we give money, we don’t know what it’s going towards. Some people spend it on alcohol, cigarettes drugs or other negative habits that aren’t really helping them out of their situation. Instead of just giving people on the streets money, he showed us that we can offer to buy them things they may need (toiletries, clothes, food, etc.).
We split into groups again and made our way along Colfax Ave., to find someone we could help. The group I was in was with Casey Greene (M ’16), Sam Casey (’16), and Sammi Miller (’19). The four of us saw a gentleman sitting on a stoop in a parking lot. He had a backpack stuffed with a yellow worker’s vest and a candy bar in one hand.
One of the most difficult parts of this trip was not offending anyone with how we approached them, especially when we went out on the street to find someone. You don’t want to assume someone is homeless. Our game plan this time around was to just say that we were looking to brighten someone’s day and offer to buy him or her anything they needed with the allotted money Josh gave us.
The man with the yellow worker’s vest was Charles. Here’s a little background:
We ended up getting him socks, granola bars and a giant bottle of water.
The more we talked to people the easier it became.
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In the afternoon, we drove to the Red Rocks Amphitheater for a hike in the warm sun and fresh air. Obviously, I went on this trip for the service opportunity, but I can’t deny my love for the Colorado mountains. I felt like I could breathe…it is way different than the air here (in the Chicago suburbs) or I’m just crazy. I had my camera strapped to my neck and trudged along the path with our group. It was a good way to reflect on the week so far.
I couldn’t believe how much we had done and what we still had left to do. I was exhausted but wired at the same time. I thank coffee for my strength to stay awake, but I also thank the experiences because I could feel them changing my perspective and love for humanity.
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That evening, we grabbed Vietnamese for dinner and then met with Mean Street Ministries. Every week, they bring food and prayer to struggling individuals and families who are living in motels or temporary homes because they can’t afford anywhere else.
I was moved by the entire evening. It was hard not to be when so many people are struggling and you feel like giving them all you have. That night, Terra Johnson ’18 and our Mean Street Ministries partner, Ken, walked up to a room where a woman named Carol lived with her husband. Carol’s husband has been ill for a while and Carol has been through seven eye surgeries herself. Carol has cataracts and can barely see color.
Carol’s an artist.
If you have dabbled in art before, you probably understand how hard it must be for Carol to go through this. She will eventually go blind if she doesn’t get the surgery. Thankfully, she is meeting with a German doctor who specializes in her surgery and can hopefully help Carol with her condition.
When Carol spoke, you could tell she was struggling, but her words and heart said otherwise. We told her we were sorry and we hoped that the surgery was a success, but she said “It will go the way God wants it to.” She accepted the potential success and failure of her surgery. This woman had strength down to her core. Before we walked away, Ken asked if she would like us to pray for her. Terra and I bowed our heads, while Ken asked Carol to place her hands over her eyes. He placed his on top of hers and began to pray. It took everything in me not to cry. I don’t know if they were tears of sadness, empathy or everything under the sun, but I could feel it building.
You could see the tears in Carol’s eyes when the prayer had ended.