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In the lobby, the phrase “all are welcome” deepens. For here, Malcolm might be seen nodding through his sleepy high and Troy or Bess might be talking or quarreling with someone only they can see and hear.
During the warm sunning days of Spring, Yvette might be seen wrangling her three small children in the garden. She does not raise her voice as she gathers them together; she speaks tenderly to them, explaining the plants should not be trampled. Yvette is a shining example of the resiliency that surrounds Haywood Street. Each day, she struggles to keep her little family together, fed, clean, warm, and safe. She does so with a generous and optimistic outlook and without a job or permanent address.
Haywood St is filled with folks who have survived or struggle due to trauma. Some deep and horrible, some less so. Most folks who spend the day at Haywood Street are just trying to survive that single day.
In that survival mode, there are moments where exhaustion, dread, and fear become overwhelming and fists clench, voices raise, and sobs can echo throughout the sanctuary.
At those times of raw emotion – be it anger, frustration, sadness, terror or all of them at once - Haywood Street walks Christ’s path of love and acceptance. As the wall of emotion begins to explode, hurt and anger are met by a wave of love. Haywood staff – maybe Wayne, Seth, Katlyn, or others - rush toward the person’s pain with understanding and concern, soothing it like a cool drink on a hot summer day. The clash of raw emotion and the tenderness of acceptance and love is what makes Haywood Street exceptionally captivating.
This acceptance of everyone with kindness and concern is bestowed on all who come to Haywood Street – no matter the reason you are there – you are accepted for who you are, as is.
The give and take at Haywood create unique relationships – sacred encounters – of sharing a connection, which flows both ways. I’ve felt it personally when Todd, dozing in his usual spot on a lobby bench, opened a groggy eye to wish me good morning and called me by name. He had practiced my name throughout the night so he wouldn’t mispronounce it. Then there was Maggie, who humbled me when she told me her life’s deepest secret and again when we celebrated the strength she found in that sharing, and how it was about to transform her life. And, Steven who gave me kindness and acceptance, which bloomed into a friendship that helped me to change misperceptions and ease heartache I held for decades.
Yes, you never know what you’ll find among the Holy Chaos of Haywood Street. And you’ll never forget it either.
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