Pastor Kris' Blog

Pastor Kris' Blog

Since When?

Posted by: Kris Androsky on 11/11/2010 | 10 Comments

 

I really enjoy the walk along the Fox River in Waukesha because it weaves around downtown, provides a great observation spot for the small waterfall and makes its way through Frame Park, complete with ducks and geese feeding and caring for their young. I love both the sound and the sight of the river.  Because I grew up on the shores of Lake Superior, water has always easily calmed my spirit, connected me with God, and called me to pay attention to the world around me. But yesterday, it wasn’t the river that had my attention and my spirit was certainly not calmed by my walk by water. 
 
I meet lots of people as I walk along the river. For the most part, I exchange a friendly smile, a silent nod or a quiet “hi” as we pass each other on the path. Occasionally, I’ll comment on how popular the guy with the breadcrumbs is and he’ll respond with the number of ducks or geese he has following him that day. Every once in a while, I’ll meet up with someone that I already know and we’ll talk as we walk or stop for a few brief minutes to chat about life. But yesterday, I met someone new and it unsettled my spirit. 
 
I could see the man sitting on the bench long before I could hear him. It was clear that he was carrying his possessions in the backpack he cradled in his lap. His head was bowed down, almost resting on the tattered pack and I found myself praying that there would be a place where he could get better rest than a park bench. When I walked past him I could hear that he wasn’t sleeping. He was crying. 
 
I stopped. I turned around. “Excuse me, are you okay?” The crying stopped abruptly and he looked up to slowly study me before responding. Holding up the straps of his backpack he said, “Look at this.” “Oh, it looks like the straps of your backpack are broken.” “They aren’t broken. They were cut.” I looked more closely and I could see that they did, indeed, look like they were cut. Certainly they hadn’t frayed into brokenness. 
 
“How did they get cut?” I didn’t know where this conversation was going but as I asked the question of the man on the bench another conversation flashed through the back of my mind in which an advocate for the homeless in Waukesha explained that some of the guys had had the straps of their backpacks cut by police officers as they were hustled out of the shelter of a park.  All of a sudden, my stomach began to churn and I began to dread the answer that the man on the bench would give. “LAW enforcement…what LAW is THIS?!” he asked as a stifled cry escaped and he held up the cut straps in clenched fists. 
 
I know that homelessness is a complicated, many faceted issue but since when is it acceptable for law enforcement to destroy the personal property of another person? When did preventing loitering come to include vandalism? Since when is it permissible for anyone, not to mention a civil servant, to destroy the dignity of another human being? When did it become acceptable for us to pretend that people living and dying on our streets is okay? And since when is silence our best answer? 
 
I went to the store and bought a backpack and a roll of duct tape. I cried the whole way there because I know that the broken spirit sitting on that park bench cannot be fixed with duct tape. And I know the pain of betrayal by a police officer and the city he represents cannot be shoved into a new backpack and tucked away under a bench. 
 

I drove home wondering when we began to see those without homes as those unworthy of justice. Since when are our neighbors only those who live in warm houses? And now that the waters are troubled, when will our spirits be troubled enough that we give up our silence? 

 

Yesterday, I met God on my walk as he sat on a park bench crying. Since then, I haven’t been able to stop looking for answers. 

 


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    A Note From Kris

    The Soul's Playground
    I consider myself a seeker; someone who is always looking to find a different way of living - a way that moves into a deeper creative spirit and welcomes the things that offer a larger picture of the Holy One.  I can't help but ask a lot of questions and look for the fun and creative places in life.

    In looking for something different in the world and in our lives, it seems that some days are meant for climbing trees and sitting in reflection while other days are made for playing in the sandbox with friends.

    Here you will find my questions, my reflections, my greatest hopes - for our community, for the church and for the world.  Often, I'll share one of the "soul collages" made while playing in my art room as an image of where God is speaking in my life.  I hope that this space will be a place where we can share our tree-sitting reflections and our sandbox conversations.  And, I pray that through the community gathered here, our souls will find the playground they need to connect to the creative spirit of God.

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