My heart burst open today, walking past an encampment of the unhoused on the Green. There were signs protesting the housing crisis hanging from the fence. I took a photo of each of them, flipping those turned over on the ground.
I guess my nervous system hit overload as I was photographing the signs. Among those encamped, someone seemed to be having a drug-related health emergency. An ambulance was approaching. My heart literally broke.
It was just the final straw, I guess, of all the tears I’d been holding back in the course of the day. I’d earlier spent some time with a prominent community elder at the nearby library hearing some of the gory details passed down to her through her bloodline—survivors of slavery who’d made it to New Haven for domestic work.
I kept thinking, Man…Christ, these are the people You’re calling us to love? I’m still not sure if I completely buy the “love your enemies” teaching I’ve been getting at ECV the last four weeks. I will continue to assess it against the Kristian A. Smith teachings.
My eyes were welled up the entire time this elder shared her family story, my nervous system unsettled for just needing to eat, walk, exercise, I thought.
Stroll Through History
Then I went to the Beinecke to look into the Black Panther Party archives, at least see what they had. Records of Alex Rackley’s autopsy and Ericka Huggins’ trial started to further activate my nervous system, and I reminded myself of the urgency of a meal.
I got out of there quickly and ate in the sun. My nervous system calmed just a little bit after that and my email to Michael Morand. There was an overwhelm about my purpose, the work I’m called to do and not having anybody whose arms to cry into at the end of the day. Not some arms into which I could just totally fall apart while asking, But why does the world have to be so cruel?
I continued to hold back the tears, particularly because my face-beat was not something I was in a position to fix in the middle of the day like this. I hoped that the movement of walking would allow my nervous system to calm all the way down by the time I got to MakeHaven.
I was going to cross the Green diagonally like I usually do, but there was a tremendous dust flying from whatever sort of lawn work or leaf blowing was happening. This is why I ended up walking along the Elm St. side of the green, glancing over to the ECV sign on my left and saying a prayer of thanks for how Christ used that first service four weeks ago to save me.
I initially walked past the encampment, seeing the people and feeling the sadness as I often do when observing the downtown tragedy of sprawling poverty. I don’t think it was until I reached the last protest sign hanging from the fence that I really had to pay attention…
{ I started writing this for y’all but then it became the kind of think piece I had to post on noirpress. You can read the rest here for free or listen to the rest in the recording above. Love y’all! Thanks for your continued support! }
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