Monkey Heads...

haHA!

And now, the joy of modern technology...even though I clearly posted all of the last seven posts today, I can change a few settings and make it look like I've been consistently posting for the past week and a half.  Victory is mine.

Internship Thoughts...

Dennis still has a long way to go, but it does seem that God is doing something powerful in his life.  I certainly hope so.  And he’s not the only one.  In the course of my time at ECCP, I met all sorts of uniquely challenged individuals – some more sociable than others, and some that just frankly disturbed me.  One elderly man told me once “You know what I’m looking for now?” No, what? “A young man that I can settle down with.”  I inched farther away on the couch.  A few weeks later, after I questioned him on this matter, he explained to me that he wasn’t really an old man.  He was an old woman.  That’s right.  I thought Bryan was male the entire time, but apparently his mother had him go through a sex change at the age of 4 without his knowing.  Confused his whole life about his gender, Bryan finally confronted his mother, who told him at age 50 that he wasn’t genetically a male.  You can begin to understand why these people never really felt like they belonged.  My heart goes out to them, and I’m both blessed and honored to have had the opportunity to experience this other aspect of London: the people on the “outskirts.”  I may never see Bryan or Carl or Dennis again, but I know they are in good hands at ECCP, and I can but pray that the gospel will break them and bring them eternal hope.

I don't think it takes much imagination to figure that these sort of people are everywhere.  The people "on the outskirts," I mean.  But more than that.  Perhaps you'll never get a chance to talk to those sort of people - you'll never get a chance to fill a bowl of pasta for a man that's been through drug-therapy twice this year.  Don't think that also means you won't get a chance to share love with people.  Anywhere you are, whether work or school or in the swimming pool on a hot summer day - there's more than likely someone who doesn't feel like they belong.  See to it that, as far as it is in your power, they do.  It will be well worth the effort.

Part III - The Last Day

Two days ago was my last time to work at the coffee bar.  It was a grand last day, but I hated to have to leave.  Most of all, I wanted to see Dennis off before I never saw him again.  Fortunately, he arrived about an hour into it, and gave me an update on the job search.  "I had a literacy test this morning," he informed me, "and I'm still waiting to hear back from it."  "Oh good!"  We talked for a while about the jobs he's applied for, and I wished him the best, and told him today was my last day.  He brushed off the comment and moved onto something else.  "I'll be praying for you and your job search," I mentioned.  "And I'll pray that you vote Democrat next time," he said in what appeared to be all seriousness.  I smiled, but was beginning to think that a proper farewell with this man was close to impossible - when Victoria showed up.  I'd told Victoria about how the Coffee Bar works, and all the strange conversations I'd had, and how mad the Bible study usually is, and so she decided to come see what it was really like in person.  It was wondrous to have her there - I introduced her to Nancy and Kerry and Enrique, to Carl and Bryan, and finally to Dennis.  "Do you have a minute so sit down?" he asked her.  She was excited to meet him, after hearing about him for so long, and was happy to sit and chat with him while I went off to the food distribution area.  "Why are you a Christian?" he immediately when for the jugular.  I smiled.  I gave Victoria the "there's Dennis for you" look, grinned, and left her to a sure-to-be long and interesting conversation with my friend.  

When I got back from handing out the food (an hour later), she was still there, and Dennis looked at me - "I'm telling her," he said with a beam.  I had to think about what he meant for a second and then said, "Oh! your story.  Great."  So I joined them as he finished up, and at the end, he added a part he'd never included before - his wife.  I'd never heard the man speak so honorably of anyone.  She was loving, kind, did everything for him that he needed, and he knew he didn't deserve her at all.  This was a perfect chance for me to get a last word in about the gospel to him.  "I think that's remarkable, Dennis, that you have such a wonderful relationship with your wife.  And it's so interesting, because throughout the Bible, marriage is put out as a parallel to our relationship with God - maybe God is using your relationship with your wife to give you a picture of his own love toward you.  Do you mind if we pray for you and your job search and all, before I have to go?"  "Well, if it makes you feel better, or does something for you, that's fine."  This was a major breakthrough, in my opinion.  You'd have to know the man, but that he would let someone pray for him was a shock to us all.  So Victoria and I (and Amy, who had joined the conversation just a few minutes before) all prayed then and there, and Dennis said nothing, but shook our hands - "I'm glad to have met you, Dennis," I said.  

"Of course you are," he replied.  Such a Dennis answer.  And with that and a farewell, he was off.

Things Children Can Get Away With...

Victoria pointed out the other day that children can get away with so many things that would probably send an adult straight to the loon-house.  On my way to the airport the other morn', I was unsettlingly reminded of this comment when a small childling sat down across from me with her parents and exclaimed, "Why are your legs so hairy?"

So I decided to make a list adults can no longer do on the way to the airport:

• ask your parents (in a voice the person in question is sure to overhear) "is he happy?"
• sing a song from Shrek unintelligibly and ask strangers if they liked it
• lift up your shirt and show everyone around the glory of your belly-button ("put your stomach away, dear")
• move constantly between two seats (as I sit with my arms crossed in my designated space)
• crawl around on the floor in a b-line towards people you've never met before
  

Part II - Our Friend Returns...

Talking to Dennis again, I assure you, was not a difficult thing to accomplish.  Every Wednesday, week after week, he came - usually bypassing the coffee altogether - (he preferred tea anyways - with two spoonfuls of sugar and the tea bag still in the cup) and went directly to me.  One time I was even modestly chastised for talking to him too long(!).  Needless to say, the first few weeks were a bit odd - always him letting me know how poorly educated I was, always him arguing that Christianity lived through politics and not through people, always me trying to convey to him that just because Christians themselves have failed time and again doesn't mean Christianity has failed, and always Dennis feeling triumphant.  One week, though, we finally got passed all this and he opened up to tell me his story.  I think I asked him why he so utterly rejected Christianity, and he decided to give the long answer.  At the end of his story (which included his nearly dying from epilepsy as a young child, his son getting hit by a double-decker bus, and a multitude of Christians who treated him badly and acted overly pious), he said, "So you see why I'm not a Christian."  "No," I said.  "I can see you've had a very hard life, and quite a number of people have treated you in ways they shouldn't.  But I don't see why you blame God.  Don't you think the fact that you didn't die, and that your son didn't die, are a blessing?"  That was all I got in, because he interrupted me (a move he uses quite frequently whenever the other party is trying to make some poignant comment) and started off on another rant against the faith. Progress, though, progress.  We had now moved from his assaulting me to more personal things, and I no longer dreaded seeing the man, but really wanted to get to the bottom of why he was so hostile.  A few weeks later, everything changed.  Well, not everything, but his attitude did, at least.

I didn't see Dennis for a few weeks, but when he did show up next, he was not quite so volatile as before.  "I walked out on my job today," he told me.  "Why?" I started.  And so we were at it again, talking non-stop for the greater part of two hours.  Eventually, he showed me some numbers that he had looked up of other places that he might be employed.  I went with him to the phones downstairs and we called several of them, who kindly agreed to send him an application.  He showed me how much pension money he was making, how much he already had saved, and how much his job still owed him.  "That's enough money to live on for a few months, don't you think?  I mean, if you were in my situation, you wouldn't be worried, right?"  "Right," I said, "not yet - hopefully those applications will work out and you'll have another job before long, anyways."  "But I'm fine for now?" "I would think so, yes.  Keep me updated on the applications, and if you find any more numbers next week, we'll call them, ok?" "This is how much money they owe me." He showed me again.  He thanked me and shuffled off.  I went back to the coffee bar trying to figure out if that was a good thing for Dennis or bad.  He had hated his job, and he sure seemed less angry at the world now that he was somewhat broken. "Alan," I turned around.  It was Dennis, who'd come back.  "I wanted to thank you again, and I know I've said I appreciate you a lot today, but I wanted to make sure you know I'm on the straight side of the road.  I'm not gay."  This last bit he half-whispered.  I laughed.  "Oh, I know Dennis, don't you worry.  Take care, and let me know how the job search goes!"  It was a good day, no question.

Lesson: The Germans don't like British Pounds...

Unaware of the phenomenon of May Day, I managed to book the first ever flight to Memmingen on Ryan Air.  this means two things...first, that the pilot, who already does his best to make RyanAir flight landings as uncomfortable and terrifying as possible, has never landed at this particular airport.  it doesn't help, either, that when the landing time did come, I was completely unaware, beign entrhralled by a new book I had just purchased a few hours before.  Secondly, it meant that the airport we were flying to was small.  very small.  so small that all the pounds I brought with me to exchange at the airport exchange place were totally useless - there was No airport exchange place.  so I got off the airplane, left the airport, and walked in what looked like the directioin toward the city, with nothing by two euros and 80 cents.  Later on, this would buy me a pretzel (buterpretzel to be precise)  and a bottle of wather that I was praying would not be carbonated.  It was.  The first town I got to was silent.  A silence that was extremely unwelcoming, despite the beauty of the flowers and trees and German buildings scattered hear and there.  every now and then a biker would huff and puff and he peddled by, but mostly it was silent.  I should have taken this as some sort of warning, but I just figured it was a small quite town where nothing ever really happened.  But by the time I got to the next town - a much larger town, this one - one that actually had its own ice cream shop - I was huffing and puffing myself.  And while the ice cream shope was open, nothing else, as far as I could tell, was.  maybe a cafe or two.  and a church.  but not the bank, no, and no change exchange places to speak of.  all the supermarkets begged me to come in with their fruit displays smiling out the windows like an eager child with his face to the glass - but as soon as my eyes widened, they drooped once more.  locked.  closed down.  Do they have a siesta hour here, too?  this was a serious question for me.  finally, I made it to a hotel where a lady kindly informed me that it was in fact, a holiday, and all the banks and such would be closed.  there's an atm around the corner, she poited out. fail.  it had extracted all but 50 dollars from my savings account and it was all in my wallet in pounds.  having noting else to do, I was forced to extract the rest of my funds in euro dollars from the machine and then my journey to munich began.  now I am in the train headed Munichways with 10 euro left and no place to spend the night.  yet.