JoeTucker’s Weblog

I started the day by overestimating the affect of spring, I wore my Chacos (sandals) today, despite the cold. It wasn’t too bad, but it would prove to be a dire mistake and the start to perhaps one of my most emotionally up and down days of Mission Year yet.

I had oatmeal, read Ephesians, prayed, and then went downtown for a Team Captain meeting at a local coffee shop. I stopped at the Center City to peruse a comic book before the meeting started, but they didn’t have the issue I wanted. I went to the coffee shop early to journal some and collect my thoughts. My feet were cold walking around downtown.

The meeting went well. We gave updates on how our teams were doing, shared how we were doing, and reflected on where we were, where we had been, and where we aspired to go individually and as communities. We shared pastries. My feet were warmer inside the coffee shop.

Another team captain and I spent a little more time downtown with a girl who was interested in doing Mission Year next year; answering questions, sharing experiences, offering insight, and so on. I lamented Mission Year’s no dating policy. I walked the girl and her brother to City Hall, pointed them to some of the local sights, then headed to the Broad Line to go home. My feet were warming with the afternoon weather.

I got home; talked with my roommate, Chris, about a book of his that I am reading (In The Defense of Food by Polland); made a delicious egg/rice/veggie/cheese omelet-type thing for lunch; called some members of the local library to inform them of a meeting; then headed to LOGAN Hope for after-school. My feet felt warm and snug in my summer sandals.

As I walked to school the kids were already outside, so was the school dog, Spanky (yeah, his name is Spanky…..I know….). I let the kids who were done with their homework stay outside, while the other kids who still had homework to do either did it inside or on the porch. I ended up policing the dog and interrogating children as to whether they had actually done their homework. My feet began to sweat in the afternoon sun.

I played tag with the kids in the backyard. I tripped over the dog and landed on cement. There were kids everywhere. My neighborhood friend John Tuck (yeah that’s his name! { I know our names are so similar, its awesome}) stopped by and told me that he wouldn’t be able to go to the Free Library concert tonight, his step children were in town and he had to watch them. I was sad and disappointed, I had really been looking forward to this event and going with John to it. My feet were smelly, dirty, and possibly a little bloody.

I went inside to clean my arm off, two teammates were on the computer; one child sat in the room. I was upset , but returned outside. Dust floated throughout the air. The dirt playground was full of children all claiming to have finished their homework. I ended the games and had the children come to me for instructions. Adam stepped on my toe and bent the nail back. I told the kids to stop climbing on me and to go to their block activities. Kids started to ask to come to first aid class (my class, my least favorite class and one of the hardest parts of my weeks and the reason why I will never teach 3^rd grade). My class had doubled in size, I had other leader’s kids. My toe was bloody and my feet were tired of standing, running, giving piggybacks, spinning, jumping, etc.

I played steal the bacon with the kids. The losing team had to give first aid strategies for staying safe on the playground. It was a madhouse (this may be a slight exaggeration, but that’s how I felt at the time). Kids ran off, the dog came back. We played a different game and I had to discipline the disrespectful and disobedient among the children. They were mad at me. I sat next to one student (one of the disrespectful, disobedient ones) and asked him what was wrong. Why was he being bad? He sat in silence kicking rocks and breaking sticks. I know that his pain goes deeper than the playground, deeper than school or homework, deeper than he knows or can voice. I sit there helpless, knowing not what to say or do. My toe hurts and my feet are covered in dirt and tired of walking this walk.

School ends. I sweep the cement. My feet rejoice in a work that I know I can control.

I mope home. I talk to some of my roommates about my day. Mention a little of my frustration with the kids and how the day transpired. I clean my feet and put on socks & shoes. I go to the porch to sit. I decide to attend the concert/talk anyway. I am already sad that my friend-neighbor can’t go. I figure that I shouldn’t be sad about not going period. I head to the subway station. My feet drag in defeat.

As I walk I consider my friend John. I enjoy talking to him, know he would have had a great time at the concert and that I would have really enjoyed going to it with him. I consider his situation and his responsibility to his step-kids. I realize that I’m not mad at him, just disappointed that things didn’t pan out as we had planned. I realize that I don’t consider John a ministry, or a project, or a mission, or anything of the sort, but as a beloved friend. I celebrate love. My feet graze the SEPTA steps, slightly lighter then when they had begun their walk there.

I bump into my teammate headed to a class downtown. I share with her my realization of love despite broken plans. She smiles. We talk of our days. We discuss a coworker and friend who may be going through a divorce. My heart is heavy for her. I take the express train and part ways with my teammate. My feet instinctively go to the next train and find a seat; blood has caked my toe to the sock.

I arrive downtown. I walk to the Convention Center. It’s huge and beautiful, and I have never been there before. I look at an abstract sculpture; I like it. My teammate Chris arrives. We’re early and get good seats. I am excited to get off my feet and sit down in a comfortable chair.

The event starts. A man gives a plethora of thanks to people in suits. He introduces the mayor. He makes claims that the mayor has been a huge supporter of the libraries. Scoffs are heard from among the audience [let me explain a little bit here, last fall Mayor Nutter wanted to close 11 local library branches in the poorest districts of Philly, the city went nuts in protest, the libraries were saved, but rumors ran rampant that Nutter still wanted to close some of the branches to save money; the event we were attending was a free library event, a concert celebrating the book, The Soloist, a book about homelessness and friendship that all of Philly had been encouraged to read]. His presence was a bitter irony. He also thanked men and women in suits. He then dealt with the elephant in the room. My feet were on edge.

He announced that his administration had just agreed that no library would be closing in Philadelphia and that the pools would be open for the summer. He apologized (sorta, as much as you can expect a politician to apologize) about the fall and celebrated the determination of Philadelphia and its libraries. He thanked the head of the library and asked that we acknowledge her as well. I was on my feet.

The Black Diamond Chamber orchestra performed Beethoven’s 5^th. It sounded fantastic. The Black Diamond is a chamber orchestra dedicated to diversity and the arts, their diverse faces represented the many faces in the audience. My feet tapped to the beautiful symphony.

Sister Mary Scullion (a homeless advocate in Philly) and Steve Lopez (the author of the Soloists) began to speak about the book and their experiences. We had to leave early to make it home in order to talk about another book we had been reading as a house. Downtown was serene and illuminated. We walked in silence; Beethoven’s 5^th in our ears and the sweet victory of the libraries bouncing with each step.

We came home. Rallied the roommates to talk about a book that only half of us had read. I was frustrated. We talked about scheduling instead, then after-school, then visitors, then I voiced some of my frustration. They listened. We prayed. They lay in bed now as I type. It is fifteen after midnight . My toe only hurts when I think about it.

I, therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, urge you to walk worthy of the calling you have received, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, accepting one another in love, diligently keeping the unity of the Spirit with the peace that binds [us]. There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to one hope at your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all. {Ephesians 41-6, italics added}

Grace and Peace