Ping Pong and Pool.

If I'm going to be honest, I would tell you that I have to take my time here moment by moment. Every day is different with how I'm feeling. I absolutely love it here so far. The city is beautiful, the hills surrounding it are beautiful, the coffee shops are great, the pubs are good, the flat is spacious, and the weather isn't too hot. ;) There are times of loneliness and missing my friends and family so much it hurts, but that is natural and I'm slowly getting into life here, though the transition has been more difficult that I could expect in many different ways, not all of them bad. :)

Though, what I love most about here is my placement. The homeless hostel is incredible. I love all of the staff I have been getting to know and work with and slowly, I've found that I've been able to get to know the residents. As a people person, this place is the place for me. At first, it takes a bit of getting used to the many differing accents in the hostel and you feel like there is so much newness that you are taking in that it takes much effort to become comfortable enough to just sit with the guys and girls without being incredibly nervous. I know I felt that. I was nervous that I wouldn't be able to understand all that they said or that I would say some "stupid American thing" or that I wouldn't be able to empathize with what they've been through. The more and more I spend time there, the more my belief that people are people is seen to be quite true.

At 7pm, every shift (the shifts are 12 hours), the staff opens up the Pool Room. The Pool Room is a room with couches, a ping pong (table tennis for the UKers) table, and pool table for the residents to come and hang out in for a while. Needless to say, I have had by butt handed to me in pool every time I've played, have shown that my ping pong skills from college aren't all that bad, and have laughed...a lot. Down in the pool room, it is a time to unwind and enjoy each other. And it's awesome. 

As I was sitting and watching a game of pool, a resident sat down next to me and asked how I was. We had some small talk for a bit and then he looked at me, extremely concerned, and told me that he was worried. I asked him what he was worried about and he went into a long explanation of worrying about his parents moving and that something may happen to them. 

     "I've got my faith, Amanda. I read my Bible, but I still worry about them. They're my parents," he said. I looked at him, smiled, and said, 

     "You're human. Try not to worry. I know it's easier said than done. Believe me, I'm a worrier, but try not to. All you can do is express your concern and care for them and give it to God. Otherwise, you'll make yourself sick with worry." 

     "You're right," he said. And he asked me to pray for his parents. I agreed. He got up, for it was his turn for pool. When I thought the conversation was over, he sat back down.

     "I have to tell you something, Amanda."

     "What's that?" I replied. He went into a long explanation about an incident that had happened the night before with dealing with alcohol and payment of things. He explained to me that when asked about a payment that he had lied and felt awful. He has never lied to the one person he trusts most before, his support worker, and was being eaten up by it. He then explained to me that with feeling horrible and then worrying about his family that he went and turned to the drink that day (it is a dry hostel). He said he knew it was wrong and that's when he came back to the hostel. 

     "Amanda, I've got my faith. I read my Bible, but that doesn't make me perfect. I'm a sinner. I don't deserve the chance to pray. I deserve nothing. You don't understand how bad I've been with the drink in the past..." He paused and looked me. I looked at him and said,

     "That's the thing, though. We're both sinners and not perfect, but we were still enough. Jesus still died for us because He loves us. And that's the great thing."

     "Aye," he said, "you're right."

     "And you know what you have to do?" I asked.

     "Aye, tell my worker I've lied."

     "Yes. And he will welcome you back with open arms. So try not to worry and just pray. I'll pray, too." 

After some more time talking, he got up and thanked me and told me to have a good night and headed upstairs. 

At home that night, all I could think about was this conversation. This man, from the outside, looks as though he's lived a rough life. He struggles with alcohol. The tattoos on his arms and hands are markings of his past. And yet, I have only known an inviting and warm man who always says hello and asks how I am sincerely. Talking with him and saying, "and he will welcome you back with open arms" reminded of the story of the Prodigal Son. No, this resident and I are not worthy of God's love, but here we are. No, I have not struggled with alcohol or drugs or have been arrested or anything, but yet I'm just like the residents in the hostel when it comes to God. I'm no better or no worse. I'm a human who He loves. They're humans who He loves. He welcomes us back with open arms. What a cool thing. People are people. 

This conversation was the first time a resident has confided in me. I felt like my normal self again. It's funny how the smallest of things can have the greatest of impacts. This conversation makes me think that God has something in store here. And this is just one of the few I've had so far with residents. Through all of the struggles, God is working. I finally feel like I'm being shown small pieces of why I'm here.