Call to Worship Rev. Nancy Palmer Jones Yesterday we celebrated the wedding of two beloved congregants here in this sanctuary, honoring more than 30 years of true marriage between these two beautiful men, and now adding to that relationship the legal and spiritual bonds of marriage, ushering that relationship into a new chapter. Yesterday, a celebration of love, an invitation to a transformative experience. Today, a worship service about expanding our awareness of the experience of homelessness, humanizing (for those of us who need that), destigmatizing (for those of us who need that) the experience of living without a home by sharing stories, and spiritual practices. For me, the Street Retreat that the Faithful Fools Street Ministry led here in San Jose in early May introduced me to an important spiritual practice. It invited me to notice my own discomfort sitting with hunger, to recognize what hard work it is to be homeless or poor walking blocks in one direction only to find that the rumor that that kitchen was serving lunch wasn t true, to be turned away at the door, to walk blocks in the other direction to arrive at the Salvation Army just before they closed the kitchen; noticing how folks already settled at one of the tables in the park across the street move away when Alfonsas, one of our former members who is back out on the street, and I take a nearby one is there some trespassing of territory that I don t know about or understand?; being given so much food three big chicken breasts, three loaves of bread that I end up walking through the park, offering it to the groups gathered there; noticing who takes some of it, who turns it down, noticing the diversity of the groups and the communities so clearly formed Now, each week, making sure I walk through the park at least once to see and be seen, to notice, to wake up A spiritual practice that provides, each time, a transformative experience. What strikes me this morning is that the words of invocation I offered at yesterday s wedding are remarkably appropriate to invoke our hearts, minds, and spirits into this worship service. Here they are, only very slightly adapted: In the time that we share in this worship service, we are participating, all of us, in a moment of real transformation. For this is a sacred act, however each of us may define the sacred. In these moments, we have the chance to see, to really see, and marvel at that Something More call it Love, God, Goddess, the Universe, Community, or something beyond all naming we have the chance to see and marvel at that something sacred, which shines out of the everyone here, out of everyone who speak, and out of those whom we remember in this hour. May each of us touch that Spirit, by which I mean may we touch what is truest and best in each of us, what is of highest value. To do this is itself an act of transformation.
And then: May our own faith in life s generosity, our own hope for love, and our own power to bring joy to others be renewed and strengthened by being here today. Isn t this what we Unitarian Universalists are always about? A reconnection to life s generosity; a hope that love can exist and act as the foundation in all our lives; and the reminder of our power to make a difference in this world. Come, let us worship together.
My Story: Homeless at 26 (Gregory L Smith) Every homeless person is someone: a person, and has a unique story. I was homeless once for five years. Let me tell you my story. I have always done well in school, I have always loved sports, and I have always loved music. In the eighth grade I reluctantly accepted my school s Academic Athlete Award of all the athletes I had the highest GPA. That s the year I also started my first band. Jump ahead a few years: I attended a Big Ten university where I had a full academic scholarship. But I ended up losing the scholarship in my third year. I started playing in bands. I also attended church 3+ times a week. I worked in a factory that made refrigerator magnets and I worked food service, the two jobs totaling about 60 hours a week. After about five years I was in a very promising punk band but nearing a personal burnout. I ended up quitting before my band was to go on its first tour. I found myself homeless when I got evicted from my apartment; my landlord was not willing to wait for me to pay my rent from money that I was to receive from tax returns. That s how easily it can happen. So, I had no place to live and none of my friends that I had accumulated up to that point were there to help me. I was fairly bitter. My closest family member was more than 900 miles away yet I wanted to stay where I was because I hoped to complete the degree that I had started seven years earlier. As a homeless person I was in the library at least seven to eight hours a day for about 5 years. To me the libraries were all-you-can-read reading-buffets! It was not until I was in the homeless shelter and heard a friend talk about how he could not type on a keyboard and talk on the phone well enough to be a telemarketer, that I realized that I was not living up to my abilities. I realized that I really wanted to give back; I needed to become a productive member of my community. So the next day I went to the same telemarketing company, and that started me on the road that has led me to where I am now having completed a few years of graduate school and working in the tech industry. Here s what I hope you get from my sharing this story:..
Reflection 06-08-14 Karen Conrotto My first experience with being homeless was in the 1980s. In 1981, I returned to California from Oregon where I had lived for two years. In Oregon, my life was slowly deteriorating. My days consisted of waking up, medicating myself with large quantities of substances, and passing out. Eventually I would come to, refortify myself, and pass out again. I was having long bouts of delusions, depression, and mania. I was not only losing my possessions, car, home, health, and my relationship I was losing myself. On January 1, I got off the bus and was met by parents. I was immediately taken to the Veterans Hospital in Palo Alto, where I was admitted and where I would spend a good deal of time over the next few years. I also spent extended periods of time in crisis treatment centers and board-and-care homes. It became clear that I was unable to live independently. By now I was on public assistance. What funds I received went for housing, with food stamps for meals. General Assistance payments went directly to my case managers for housing, so I would never even see that money. During these years, I spent time living in homeless shelters. One was the Commercial Street Inn, which is for women and children. I would see women and frightened children struggling through each day women who had experienced abusive homes, and who tried desperately to tell little children what was put on the table was everyone s dinner, not just theirs. At Julian Street Inn, the clientele were adult men and women with mental health issues. Some of the residents talk to themselves, rage, steal, fight, and are sneaky. One of the last times I was there, a very pregnant woman gave birth to a baby boy just after the staff had gone upstairs and long before paramedics arrived. During my last stay, I was finally connected with a caseworker who helped me with my Social Security claim. It came through before I left there. From that point onward, I began to attend 12-step meetings. From there, I went back to DeAnza and to San Jose State for degrees. I am currently not employed but I know with my friends, I have hope today. Homelessness is a terrible thing to go through. I feel I m a much stronger person as a result of the experience.
Reflection by Lynn Morison I invite you to join me on my tour of appreciation. First, the context for this tour. I have worked for almost 25 years with homeless youth and young adults. I would come to work in the morning and see them waiting outside the Drop In Center for it to open. They would be surrounded by their belongings, trying to sleep on top of their packs. One cold, rainy morning, I woke up at my usual time, 5:30, starting to go through all the tasks I had for the day, wishing I could get just a little more sleep when I suddenly start experiencing something different. I feel the warmth of my bed and instead of resenting the fact that I have to get out of that warm bed, I appreciate that I have a bed to get out of in a room with a roof over my head. When I go into the bathroom, I again feel a sense of appreciation for a working toilet and running water the things we take for granted when we are housed. Next I become freshly aware of the luxury of filling the teakettle and turning on the stove to heat water for coffee. Then: waking up my son, knowing I am able to put a roof over his head. All the way to that moment we are rushing out of the house and I lock the door secure in the knowledge it will all be there waiting when I return home that night. My work with homeless youth has given me a spiritual practice that gives me new grounding every day. Won t you join me tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that? It s simple: just take the time to notice and appreciate, rather than take for granted, the places where we feel safe or comfortable in our lives. Maybe it s our home, maybe it s in a friendship, maybe it s right here in this church. I invite you to create your own tour of appreciation and to take it every day.