ch-ch-ch-changes

As of last Friday, I am no longer working at Bread and Roses Café part-time and am instead working full-time in the culinary training program (CTP). I was part of the decision process in this move, and it comes after four and a half months of me trying to run the administrative side of CTP in just the few afternoon hours I have following Bread and Roses services. I'm looking forward to the chance to really be involved in making changes to the program and helping it reach its potential, but I will also miss Bread and Roses.

My interactions with clients at B&R were not in a case management context, and one could argue that Bread and Roses doesn't contribute too much toward St. Joseph Center's model of self-sufficiency. In the least, it's easy to argue that we lean more towards charity than social justice at B&R. This, though, is what made working at B&R fulfilling in such a unique way.

My stint as café manager was, more than anything else, a ministry of presence. I wasn't the person our clients went to for bus tokens or for help with an SSI application. I was never the one to come up with a harm reduction plan for a client's substance abuse. I wasn't even in charge of whether or not they were signed up for a meal. But, I was consistently present as a fellow person. On a daily basis, I affirmed our clients' dignity by paying attention to them. Perhaps for that 45 minutes that they spend dining at B&R, I could help them know that they are not defined by their present situation of experiencing homelessness. I affirmed their humanity simply by knowing their names. Names are so deeply personal, and the human ache to be known and loved can so easily be soothed by speaking to a person using his or her name.

At first I was hesitant to accept this shift of responsibilities; I wanted so badly (and so selfishly) to hold on to my last few months at Bread and Roses. In the words of Fr. Greg Boyle, "I knew that the poor had some privileged delivery system for giving me access to the gospel" (Tattoos on the Heart), and the clients we serve at Bread and Roses are among the most marginalized and poor, certainly more so than my clients in the Culinary Training Program.

But my faith in the potential of CTP as a program that can promote genuine change in a person's life compels me to let go of my fears -- of missing out on B&R experiences, of disappointing clients, of leaving volunteers in a lurch, and of being inadequate in CTP -- and to look forward. I do hope I am able to feel a sense of fulfillment in my work in CTP over the next few months. Even if I cannot always see the positive effects of our program (students tend to disappear once they receive their certificates), I can at least take pride in the fact that I have made some small but significant contributions to the curriculum and to the efficiency of the program's administration.

So, here's to a great last 11 weeks of JVC, wherever it may take me!


**Regarding the title of this post: I can't say the word "changes" without thinking of that David Bowie song, and in particular the Shrek 2 version of the song.

Quote for an Exhausted JV

"Pray as if everything depended on God, and work as if everything depended on you." My dad often cites this St. Ignatius quote when I'm stressed/burnt-out/lacking motivation. The idea of working as if everything depended on you seems kind of daunting, and I never really found the quote that comforting (sorry, Dad)...until this week when I hit a seriously low point at work and needed to find some solace. So I was looking around the interwebz for the exact citation of this Ignatian quote, and I stumbled upon some interesting findings. First of all, it turns out this particular quote is actually attributed to St. Augustine. But Ignatius did say something similar: "Trust in God, as if the whole course of events depends on you and not on God, but fully implement your plans as if nothing needs to be done by you, but only by God." In short, pray as if everything depended on you, and work as if everything depended on God.


Here's why I like Iggy's original quote (a quote which was later reversed because people thought it was an error, and also perhaps stolen from Augustine, but no one here is concerned about saintly plagiarism):


If I prayed as if everything depended on me, I would be quick to realize my shortcomings. Recognizing that I need God's help, I would pray for the graces of understanding, compassion, and wisdom. I would need to pray for the strength to carry on. I would need to pray for forgiveness. And I would pray with a sense of urgency.


And if I worked as if everything depended on God, then I would be working with inspiration much deeper than my own personal motivation. A Jesuit blogger says it better than I could: "If I work as if everything depends on God, then I will go forward with greater confidence and energy, since the work to be done is in more capable hands than my own. If the outcome is in God’s hands, then I will perhaps be able to persevere in the face of opposition and apparent poor results. If it all depends on God, then I will not hesitate to 'step out of the boat,' out of my own comfort zone, as I try to serve. And if God is in charge, then [God] will not allow my mistakes to ruin [God's] work, but will make all things work together unto good."


Now that is an idea I can take solace in. I shall carry it with me this week as I try to find peace amidst some challenging and painful realities about my own deficiencies.

TO DO, AMDG

One of the speakers at JVC Orientation in August offered a piece of funny and appropriate advice that I hadn't thought about again until recently. The Jesuits tend to cite their motto pretty frequently: ad majorem Dei gloriam, which means "for the greater glory of God." The idea is that every act, even those that aren't overtly spiritual, can be spiritually fruitful when done "for the greater glory of God"...so the suggestion to JVs for times of doubting the value of our daily work was to add "AMDG" to the end of every item on your to-do list. Well, to say that I'm going through a doubting Thomas phase at work would be an understatement, so I gave it a shot.

-Update CTP monthly stats for the greater glory of God
-Send notice of referral to Legal Aid ad majorem Dei gloriam
-make February check-in calls to graduates ad majorem Dei gloriam
-make CTP recruitment calls AMDG (and ASAP)
-enter clts into family center database for the greater glory of God
-enter B&R meals into db for the greater glory of God
-do laundry AMDG
-write recommendation letter for casamate AMDG
-write fellowship application essay AMDG


Only AMDG can make database entry seem exciting and glorious...

one more year?

I'm applying for an additional year of JVC. Crazy? Maybe...but no more so than it was to move across the country in the first place to share oh-so-limited resources with six strangers who are intensely passionate about working with the marginalized. To share some insight into my crazed mind, here is an excerpt of my application, from the essay prompt about motivations. It's not my finest literary work, but I think it aptly depicts why I am even considering this next leap of faith...

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       I wrote in my application to JVC last year that “I see JVC as an opportunity to adapt an orientation of myself towards others and towards the world -- an orientation of self-giving love, rather than selfishness and greed.” I could not have understood the degree to which that statement would be true just one year later. I could not have understood how working intimately with the marginalized would motivate me to fight for change; how living in a community would nurture my faith; or how running out of cash could make me reassess “necessities.” Although I had previously accepted the values of JVC on face value, actually living them has begun forming me into the loving person I long to be. I know that there is much room for still further growth before I will have the confidence and courage to truly integrate these counter-cultural ideals into my life beyond JVC.

      In this sense, my motivations for applying for an additional year are much the same as they were last year. Yet this year, I apply with greater conviction and understanding. I apply with the knowledge that being loving to community members does not always mean being “nice,” and that giving of myself fully to clients requires more than a solid work ethic. I apply with a genuine enthusiasm to continue along the path of growth as a self-giving and loving woman for others, rooted in an Ignatian sense of spirituality. Being a JV this year has made me certain that I want to commit my life to social justice -- and in particular to work at the intersection of medicine and social justice. My work this year has also convinced me of the type of physician I long to be: one that treats each patient with dignity and respect regardless of socioeconomic status, and one that advocates for justice in the systems that preclude some from necessary healthcare. I know that an additional year of JVC would foster the attitude and conviction I need in order to develop into this person.

      I also know that an additional year of JVC would be challenging, and in many ways more so than this current year. Simply maintaining the level of energy I have now for both my placement and my community will be a challenge. I had not anticipated how much effort would be required to support community after a long day of working, but I believe in the fruits of community enough to put in that effort. I anticipate being challenged by the transition to a new community, too. Beyond uprooting myself from the known to the unknown, I foresee facing a constant temptation to judgmentally compare my new community to Casa Maura Clarke. I acknowledge that the mental comparisons sometimes cannot be avoided and may be valuable, but I do hope to keep my self-judgment to a minimum. Whether or not I live in an additional year community, I know that my views toward community will be shaded by the successes and failures of my present community; I hope to learn to appreciate these insights without imposing upon the organic development of my new community.

      I believe I have been more present in the past six months than at any point during my college career. Unlike my previous life of constant stress over future plans, I have been taking each day and learning from my interactions with new and familiar people. I know that I will struggle next year to balance presence to community and clients with my goal to simultaneously apply for medical programs. However, I hope to find inspiration in the knowledge that this presence to my JV years will positively impact my life as a student and physician.

      I desire to accept these challenges, and to continue grappling with the challenges I currently face in my JV year. I want to live in closer solidarity with the individuals I serve. I want to commit to a simple lifestyle beyond my superficial acceptance of the challenge to make it through each month within stipend. I want to nurture the strong drive for social justice that the past few months have planted in me. There are many ways in which I hope to strengthen my commitment to the JVC values, and I am excited by the opportunity to do so in the next year and a half. 

Boring, but true. Cheers to you for reading this far.

The benefit of the doubt

How would your life be different if you believed that everyone was always doing his or her best under the circumstances? Like really, truly believed that each person is acting to the best of his or her ability? And not only believed it, but treated others as though you believed it?

I, for one, would be less frustrated with the current situation at my placement. I would be less resentful toward the huge responsibilities put on me, and more genuinely committed to working for the best interest of my clients.

There have been times at work in the past six months that I've felt I haven't been given the benefit of the doubt, or that I haven't been treated as though I am trying my best. I ask for the benefit of the doubt, but I, too, must reciprocate.

Silver lining: discovering the beauty of community

I feel ashamed for having posted so little about community. Part of the reason for this is laziness: I'm too lazy to explain to people outside of intentional communities what it means to be living in one. Part of the reason is that there are so many intricate pieces of community that it's difficult to make generalizations in giving said explanation. Part of the reason is that I'm still coming to understand what exactly intentional community means for me.

But the happenings of the past few weeks demand that I reflect on community, and perhaps the best way to illuminate the importance of CMC is to share examples of community "working" and functioning at its best. Indeed, I'm pretty sure the reasons that I have survived the past two weeks at work are my resolution to be more patient, this song played on repeat, and the support of my community.

Background story. I am currently doing three jobs at work: my own two jobs as cafe manager at Bread and Roses and case manager with the Culinary Training Program (CTP), and now also the job of "program manager" of CTP (the program manager is on leave). Now, the position of program manager is several pay grades above mine (that is to say, above not being paid), and it is a pretty hefty job to just wake up one day and have without asking for. Since case management meetings and notes took up the bulk of my time in CTP, I had previously done very little to help with the administrative side of running CTP, making it all the more difficult to figure out what to do when I became the sole administrator. I could go on, but needless to say, I have been a little bit very stressed about this whole situation.

Enter CMC.

My community of seven has been a source of support all year, but especially as I cope with these [hopefully] temporary changes at work. I feel safe being myself in the environment of CMC, and I feel comfortable bringing up challenging issues, be they personal or communal. Each person brings their own strengths and weaknesses; their own experiences and values; and their own challenges. Each person has supported me in a different way in the past two weeks...Sarah has been an incredible listener; Jackie has managed to make this ridiculousness seem funny; Megan has offered spiritual advice; Emily has shared her resources as I try to design the job search curriculum of CTP; Maria jumped at the opportunity to bash SJC; and Kevin has played cards and drunk beer with me.

I do know (and if you know me, then you know, too) that I am prone to exaggeration. But while I may be playing up the stress at work (my anxiety is probably still less than it was any given day at Georgetown), I am not exaggerating how happy I am to be living in the intentional community of CMC this year. I do not think I could be introduced to social work in any other way and come out of the year anything but jaded.

I'll conclude this long, rambling post with a quote from Jean Vanier, founder of the L'Arche communities (one of which I volunteered at as a freshman at Georgetown):

Each member of a community who grows in love and wisdom helps the growth of the whole community. Each person who refuses to grow, or is afraid to go forward, inhibits the community's growth. All the members of a community are responsible for their own growth and that of the community as a whole.

Perhaps the most essential quality for anyone who lives in community is patience: a recognition that we, others and whole community, take time to grow. If we are to live in community, we have to be friends of time.

Kid at heart

There is a baby-shaped hole in my heart.

My life at Georgetown had at least seven hours of kid time built into my schedule on a weekly basis. I taught dance to little ones at the YMCA with Dance DC, and I volunteered in the Child Life Department at GU Hospital -- playing and socializing with the kids in the pediatric ICU and the Hematology/Oncology Unit. I was even promoted to "cuddler" senior year (you know, kind of a big deal), which just meant I wore a different colored volunteer vest and was allowed to hold babies in the NICU. I saw a lot of sad things in the PICU and NICU and even grew attached to a few kids who didn't survive their diseases. But I loved seeing the same little face smiling at me from room 5301 every Tuesday and Thursday; I loved nearly falling asleep with a chubby baby in my arms after a long night in the library; and I loved seeing the kids at the Y get excited about dancing, even amidst their fits of bouncing off the walls (literally).

Performance day at the YMCA.

Now, though, the only kids I see are the ones wandering past the Culinary Training kitchen from the Early Learning Center with their parents in tow. I do have a great vantage point from my desk to adore them, but that gets creepy and I don't get to play with them. There were the occasional young clients at Bread and Roses during the summer (who brought me both great joy and great sadness), but thankfully they're all attending school by now.

This is all reason why I'm grateful to have my kid volunteers around at Bread and Roses. Yes, they have a lot of energy. Yes, they spill a lot of things. But they are so genuinely eager to help and so precious while they do it. One of my twenty-something volunteers convinced this sixth grader yesterday that every time he buttered a piece of bread he had to make a "whoop" sound -- loud but hilarious. Another girl was stopped dead in her tracks when I responded to her sassy question about serving spaghetti at breakfast time by explaining that a lot of these folks wouldn't eat until they came back the next day. It's exciting to think that I might be shaping -- ever so slightly -- these kids' perceptions of service and homelessness. I know that service during my youth, whether wrapping presents with my dad for the McKey Christmas Club or making and distributing sandwiches with my Girl Scouts troop, truly fostered an attitude of service in me. Hopefully the same will be true for the kids who come through B&R...hopefully I can show them how fun service can be, and how easy it is to treat every person with dignity.

Writer's Block and Falling Leaves

I've felt inspired to blog on many occasions recently, but I have been facing a peculiar case of writer's block. A couple weeks ago, one of the volunteers at Bread and Roses passed away unexpectedly. Although I didn't know this almost-thirty-year-old fellow well, it was a jolting experience with reality that I couldn't move past without somehow processing it in writing. I don't want to eulogize him or reflect on my guilt over feeling that he was an inefficient volunteer; instead, I just want to post this poem (sent to the JV's by a nun who knew we missed autumn) in his honor. I considered quoting a theologian or philosophers who had spoken eloquently on the reality of death, but poetry expresses something prose simply cannot.


The Falling Leaves by Joyce Rupp


with a constant chorus of cicadas
the leaves tumble down,
from long, thin silver poplars,
they twirl to the ground,
dancing the Autumn death dance
beneath the great blue sky.


the leaves seem glad at the going.
(is there something I don't know?)
sparkling in the October sunshine,
they fill the air with gentle rustling.


one, then another and another,
on they skim down from above,
bedding the forest table before me
with comforting crunches and crackles.


this gigantic death scene of leaves
does not smell of sorrow and sadness,
rather, the earth is colored with joy
and the leaves make music in the wind.


why is this dance of death so lovely?
why do leaves seem so willing to go?
are they whispering to each other,
urging one another to be freed?


maybe "you first and then I'll follow"
or: "you can do it, go ahead"
supporting one another gladly
in their call to final surrender.


I have not yet discovered the secret
of the serenity of sailing leaves;
every autumn I walk among them
with a longing that stretches forever,
wanting to face that death-dance
and the truth of my own mortality.

Good Morning!

We watched Singing in the Rain this week in CMC, and I'm thinking this is how every morning, nay, every meal, at Bread and Roses should begin...now that my tap shoes have arrived in L.A., I just need to recruit two unsuspecting volunteers or coworkers to join me.

the little things

This week a client (let's call him Bob) called me over to his table and asked me if I remembered a different client (made-up name of Greg) who used to eat with him all the time. I said yes, and that I missed Greg and was wondering how he was doing. Bob then informed me that Greg had gotten a job driving trucks, and that as he was driving from Omaha to Chicago, he called and asked Bob to say hi to me at Bread and Roses. Not only was this great news for Greg to have gotten a job, but I was touched that Greg wanted to say hello and that Bob cared enough to pass the message on. As much as I loved greeting Greg every morning (he would say his name to me, followed by "numero uno, number one!" every day), I hope I'll never see him walking into Bread and Roses for food again...

It's the little, wonderful things like this that will keep me smiling all year at Bread and Roses, even in the face of the dire outlook for homeless individuals in L.A.

Memorable Moments

I take myself too seriously sometimes...which is why I'm glad I have the oddities of daily interactions with homeless folks to remind me that you really just can't take yourself too seriously in the field of non-profit work. Some memorable moments include:

"Do you know the Bible?" "Yeah, sure." "Well you know, then, that you're going to Hell for using that computer, right?" Right.


Client to me, for no apparent reason: "This place gets worse and worse every day." Same client later that day asked me out on a lunch date.


In response to a Georgetown t-shirt I was wearing: "You went to Georgetown? I thought you were more normal than that." More normal than what?


Same day, same t-shirt, different client: "Georgetown? Wait, you are smart enough for that and now you're working here?" Yes.


Security guard, on me being a volunteer for a year: "So you don't want to go into the restaurant business? Why are you here, for the 'experience' or something? I don't get it."


Volunteer: "Yeah, despite whatever you say, I kind of just do what I want." Awesome.


Never a dull moment at B&R...there will, no doubt, be more to come. 

CM in the PM

Since you've all been on the edges of your seats waiting to hear what I do in the p.m...

Every afternoon, I'm at the St. Joseph Center administrative building where I fulfill the Culinary Training Program (CTP) part of my "program assistant" responsibilities. CTP aims to put unemployed and under-employed ($22,000/year) individuals, many of whom have barriers to employment, to work in entry-level positions in the food-service industry. The culinary part of the class is taught by the executive chef at Bread and Roses, but in keeping with St. Joe's emphasis on self-sufficiency throughout all its programs, the class also includes life skills workshops -- study skills, financial literacy, job interview strategies, etc.

I help the program manager of CTP, who is the sweetest lady I've met in L.A. (and also my second supervisor), with recruitment of new students, interviewing applicants, and searching for new culinary job leads. If time allows, I'll also be helping her with résumé and job search workshops. But probably my most important role in CTP is as a case manager. I case manage within the Family Source Center (enter supervisor number three), which is a case management contract for LA residents. So, the CTP students who live in Los Angeles proper become my case management clients.

In one-on-one meetings, I help clients identify their goals -- with respect to education, employment, finances, benefits and legal issues, to name a few -- as well as barriers keeping them from reaching those goals. My objective as a case manager ("CM," shorthand) is to help clients manage these goals and overcome barriers, all within the context of self-sufficiency. I really admire St. Joseph's emphasis on self-sufficiency and empowerment within all its case management contracts, rather than encouraging a case management culture of hand-outs. Since my clients are all CTP students, my case management load definitely has a bias toward employment (and employment in the culinary industry in particular), but the obstacles these struggling individuals face make for a challenging and diverse caseload. Right now I am case managing about 15 clients, and when the next class starts on Monday, I'll add four more!

The learning curve on the case management part of my job is definitely steeper than the café management. Beyond mastering all the social services available for referrals and gaining an intimate knowledge of the detailed forms we use, I have a ways to go in honing my case manager intuition. Being a case manager demands a lot of reading between the lines and listening with a critical ear that I'm not especially experienced with. The closest experience I can draw on is conducting medical histories with SHARE (Study to Help the AIDS Research Effort) in D.C., where I learned -- over time and with great failure at first -- to focus first on the person and second on the forms.

Bread and Roses and CTP are connected institutionally in a number of ways (not least by the fact that both share the executive chef and the JV), but the two aspects of my program assistant position are quite independent of one another. Each carries significant responsibility, and each is demanding in its own, distinct ways. Hopefully I will be able to find the balance that allows me to devote great energy to both endeavors without burning out by 1 p.m. every day.

Labor Day: 'Bread and roses! Bread and roses!'

In honor of Labor Day, here's a background on the phrase "bread and roses." It's associated with the fight for fair wages for women, and in particular with a textile strike in 1912 in Massachusetts. The slogan comes from James Oppenheim's poem, where "bread and roses" refers to the call for both fair wages and dignified working conditions. It's pertinent as we think about labor and living wages today, but also as a background story to the name of the café I'm working in this year!

As we come marching, marching in the beauty of the day,
A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray,
Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,
For the people hear us singing: "Bread and roses! Bread and roses!"
As we come marching, marching, we battle too for men,
For they are women's children, and we mother them again.
Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses!
As we come marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient cry for bread.
Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.
Yes, it is bread we fight for -- but we fight for roses, too!
As we come marching, marching, we bring the greater days.
The rising of the women means the rising of the race.
No more the drudge and idler -- ten that toil where one reposes,
But a sharing of life's glories: Bread and roses! Bread and roses!


So even though Bread and Roses Café is not just for women, the roots of the phrase make it clear that, just as the fight for fair wages was about more than the need for money, feeding the hungry is about more than the food itself -- it's about treating each person with dignity. "Hearts starve as well as bodies..."


In L.A., we celebrated the long weekend with the other JVs in the Southwest region with a party and a day at the beach. Casa Maura Clarke also visited the Getty Villa in Malibu, which houses J. Paul Getty's collection of Greek and Italian art.

 

Zuma Beach & the Getty Villa.

 

Gardens on the grounds of the villa.

learning by doing

The only way to learn how to be Café Manager at Bread and Roses Café, it seems, is by doing it...and by making mistakes doing it. On day one, my supervisor/the executive chef picked me up, we did the day's grocery shopping, and I got a quick tour of the facilities before I started managing volunteers while he ran the kitchen. By the end of the first meal, he was gone and I was on my own. I knew generally what needed to be done from studying the binder that's been passed from JV to JV, and, thankfully, there was a handful of experienced regular volunteers (including the chair of the board of St. Joseph Center) to back me up. Remarkably, I didn't actually get stressed about the fact that I was supervisor-less for most of my first day...I'm learning to roll with the punches this year.

I've had a few minor hiccups along the way, but I'm starting to get into a groove with the café, so I'm finally able to articulate to people what it is that I am actually doing. My title is "Program Assistant at Bread and Roses Café and the Culinary Training Program," which translates to me being café manager by morning and case manager by afternoon.

Every morning on my way to Bread and Roses (leaving between 6:30 and 7:15 daily), I make a different stop to pick up food donations. I roll into the café between 7:30 and 8:00, and I start prepping for the volunteers to arrive at 8:30. My most challenging task throughout the morning is definitely managing the volunteers. There are four to seven of them daily, and it's my job to make sure they work efficiently and happily. Things I have learned: volunteers do not like feeling bored, and they also do not like changes (e.g. The fact that I made a chart of how to set the table is actually going to cause a volunteer uprising.). Another tricky aspect is to try to appease the experienced volunteers while still sufficiently orienting brand new volunteers. I've started holding a daily volunteer orientation to get everyone on the same page, which has worked well when people are on time.

I'm responsible for overseeing most of the front-of-the-house activity of the restaurant, while the chef runs the kitchen. Beyond managing the volunteers, this also means I'm responsible for letting guests in off our reservation list, keeping a count of how many meals we're serving, and generally keeping our clients happy and orderly. The most difficult aspect of this is definitely the gatekeeper role I play...it's not easy to tell a hungry, homeless person that he/she cannot come in because we're full and he's/she's not on the list. Alas, that is sometimes what I have to do. Clients sign up for Bread and Roses meals at the Homeless Services Center, where they also have case managers (my casamate Jackie is one of these case managers). Luckily, I have the help of our security guard when things go wrong on the list/gatekeeping front.

We serve meals three times a day -- at 9:30, 10:30 and 11:30. I see many of the same clients on a daily basis, but we're always seeing new faces, too. Our dining room seats 40, so a "full house" puts us at 120 meals a day; however, we can serve up to 150 meals in a day by seating overflow in shifts within each seating. After cleaning up the last meal with my volunteers, I take stock of the kitchen and make the next day's shopping list before heading to the St. Joseph Center administrative building a few blocks away to work with the Culinary Training Program (CTP)! More to come on CTP in a later post since I've probably lost most people by this point anyways...

The job of café manager isn't terribly intellectually challenging, but it's been fun and exciting to interact with so many volunteers and clients. So far, I've been most tested in patience and multi-tasking, and the constant demand of interpersonal interactions is exhausting in itself. I feel as though I've been working at Bread and Roses for much longer than three weeks, but the time has flown by!

I should also mention that the food is GREAT.