An Office Conversation

 A couple of days ago at work, I was in my office when I heard Linda (our office manager) go to the office door and let someone in.  She visited with the guest for a moment.  I overheard part of the conversation.  The woman was there with her mother and was asking if we had any food.

Linda said something to the effect that we don't usually keep food here, but we had some snack-type food that we normally place into the Blessing Box outside.  When I heard what the conversation was about, I went out to the waiting area where the conversation took place to find a woman in her 40's along with an older lady.  Linda went back to the food storage area to prepare a sack of snack-type food for them.

In the waiting area, I began a conversation with the younger woman, as she was the one who had been speaking with Linda.  I usually begin these kinds of conversations by just asking what was going on with them or how their day is going (in a nice way, of course).

The younger woman began telling me a little about their situation.  Her face was calm and collected, and seemed to display a sign of strength, but I saw her left hand on the arm of the chair.  Her hand was shaking…tremoring.  That told me that she was barely holding it together, so I asked them both to come back to the office and we'd visit there.

They came into the office and we visited while Linda finished filling a sack.  We ended up conversing for over 30 minutes as I gently pulled more and more of their story out of them.  Their story was one I've heard many tens of times before.  Abusive situation.  Boyfriend is a knothead.  They had to get out of the domestic situation.  Have no place to go.  Have never had to access social services in the past.  Didn't seemingly have much of an idea of what to do or where to go.  Mom had transportation and was helping daughter as best she could.  Both are couch surfing.

There wasn't much we could really do here.  We gave them a sack or two of food.  I happened to have a couple of one-day bus passes that I gave them.  I gave them contact information for a couple of my social services friends who might be able to help.  I gave them a list of services available in Wichita that the Homeless Outreach Team gives to the homeless.  I told Mom that when her gas tank got more empty, to contact me and we'd fill her tank.  And, I happened to have a little cash on hand for needs like this, and gave the younger woman $20.

But mostly, I listened.  The ladies talked at least 90 percent of the time we were conversing.  I was just asking questions and getting some clarification.  And as we conversed, the stress level began to fall.  The facade of strength I saw the first couple of minutes in the waiting area was no longer visible.  And when I gave her the cash and told her I didn't care what she did with it, she totally lost it.  She couldn't talk for a good minute or so.  And THAT reaction is not unusual at all when I give a little cash.  When I once asked one of my social worker friends why these people tended to become so emotional when handed just a few dollars, she responded that it was because I trusted them with something of value to do with as they chose...not as I chose.  I have to admit I hadn't thought of it that way, but can appreciate it.  By the way, we don’t just give out cash right and left.  In fact, we seldom do so.  It has to be a special need, or someone I know well.  And we don’t always have cash to give.  We have guidelines and limits in place.  But sometimes, a little cash can go a long way to help meet a need.

Well, we parted ways a couple of minutes after that.  I don't know where they were going.  Nor do I know where they spent the night that night or what is happening with them now.  We may never see them again.  I think about these kinds of encounters for several days following.  Wondering just where they went and were they safe.  Whether they contacted the social service contacts I gave them or were able to find other services.  Ninety nine percent of the time, I never hear from them again.  This may be an exception if the Mom contacts me when her gas tank empties.  I may be able to have some of my questions answered then.  But I'm not counting on it.  They may decide to find another town or city in which to live due to the abusive situation.

This is not an unusual occurrence at our church.  Not at all.  It's usually women who come in.  It's usually an abusive situation of some kind.  Often, it's generational in nature, but not always.  A decent share of the time it's a first timer, or newbie that comes to our door, basically lost in the maze of social service agencies, invisible to much of society, lonely, and afraid...afraid for their own safety, afraid of what that night or the next day has in store, afraid of having lost what little control they had over their lives.

Those of us with a secure safety net of family, friends, and resources haven't a clue of the stress, the disappointment, and the despair these people live with every waking moment.  The least we can do is display some compassion and empathy.

Well, thanks for listening to me, as I sometimes need a listening ear as well as those who come to the office door.  This holiday season, check up on your listening skills.  How are your compassion and empathy assets doing right now?  Have you had the opportunity to give in some way recently?  Did you act positively on that opportunity?  May God’s blessing be upon us all as we learn what it means to love our neighbor.