When a cop wakes you up.

“Hey man you can’t stay here, gotta get up and move” A man’s voice told me.

I pulled my blanket off my face and looked up to the guy, he’s kind of a blurred pudgy figure until I put my glasses on and see it’s a cop. When a cop wakes you up you usually do what he says. But by this point I had been woken by cops a few times, sometimes I had been somewhere I shouldn’t be and I respected them, other times I knew I was doing nothing wrong and still respected them but with a little more sas (that’s right… I had some sas as a homeless boy)

“Sorry but why can’t I sleep here?” I asked him

“You just can’t” he responded

“Well actually there is no sign saying I can’t and I’m on private property so it’s perfectly fine that I sleep here. Right” By this point I was a little hardened and tired. “Right? I mean I don’t think I’m wrong and if I am tell me” I ask him again while standing up.

“Well, I mean uh. I just think you need to move on” I think he was surprised I was a young kid. I half expected him to put me in my place with some new ordinance or pointing to a new sign that had been hung up in the night or something.

“I’ll move on so I don’t cause you any trouble. I really hope you have a good day sir” I told him as I rolled up my mat and blanket. I really did hope he had a good day too, and I felt kind of bad for my sarcasm. I had been trying to unconditionally love on loads of people by this point (homeless, business people, cops, druggies, the creepy guy who always tried to buy me shoes, prostitutes etc). And I made a short little small talk with the cop while I packed up the rest of my things and was on my way.

As I walked a way I probably had a little more pep in my step than usual. It was actually the end of my little homeless adventure in Denver. While I told the cop it was fine I slept there I was partly thinking “Well, I’m done being homeless anyways”.

I took one more walk through town, looking people in the eye again for the first time in a while (I had been avoiding stares for a couple weeks because it is hard to know people are looking down on you so much). I wanted to remember the looks, the rejection and compare it to what was to come. About an hour after waking up I was headed to Chris’ house, then taking a shower, putting my car back on insurance, driving to get a hair cut and putting on better clothes. In three hours time I would be stopping back at this place a completely differently looking person. I looked into peoples eyes the same as I had three hours before but this time was stared at so differently. People smiled, genuinely, I was treated nicely. No glares from people sitting at tables in restaurants and no sarcastic remarks from touristy looking people.

Truthfully I didn’t know how to respond to everything at the time, or two days later eating breakfast at a hotel in Chattanooga with a man whose net worth was $50 million dollars (that’s another crazy story), or a week later talking to friends at a wedding, or months later talking to a grad school social work class. And here I am now a year later trying to make sense of it all and still I feel am failing miserably to do it justice.

I know I can say it was the greatest, riskiest, and most meaningful experience of my life. I still think about it every day especially now that I hit the one year anniversary of it all. I promise it’s not all done with. I feel something in me urging to pick it back up again in some sense. I needed a rest, I learned I need to rest sometimes while I was out there, but I know I have rested long enough now.

And in the rest, and effort, I’ve learned so much in the past year. From the road-trip through the south, multiple friends weddings, a bike trip across 5 states, a trip with greek guys down to Florida, officiating 2 weddings, working at a running company, going to young life camp, coaching lacrosse and just trying to be a better friend I can say I failed so many times along the way. And I’ve learned from it. I have learned more deeply that I am part of this world, of my faith, and everything the two have to offer each other. And I’m excited for a year from now to see all the ways I’ll have gotten to try new things, take new risks, and continue in my pursuit to be a friend to the world.

As always, never give less than your best.

Love you all and God Bless.

Shout out to Social Workers

Today I was lucky enough to go speak to a class full of future social workers at Grand Valley State University about homelessness. I was pretty pumped about the opportunity from the get go. While I get a tiny bit nervous I love public speaking especially when it is something I am passionate about. Seeing my name next to the words “Guest Speaker” was a pretty cool sight… something I could get used to.

I got there a little early and ran through what I was thinking of talking about before going into the classroom. To be honest I stuck to my notes only a little bit before just going on about the experiences of the summer that might have had some relevance to the class. I will not lie I got caught up in a few moments sharing about some of the guys I got to know and passionately stuttered a few times. I tried my best to express the love I think we’re capable of feeling towards people who are the most down and out. I only hope I was able to communicate a little of what I feel.

I talked a while and took more than the allotted time I was given but was graciously given more time before coming to a close and getting to ask if anyone had any questions. I’ve never asked if anyone had any questions after a presentation and had anybody actually have questions so immediately after asking I started saying “and if you don’t have any ques…” when a few hands went up.

It was kinda cool. I saw they actually cared. They were more than just entertained.

One of the last questions I was asked was what my major in College was (FYI it was Athletic Training 3yrs but graduated with psychology) and if I was currently searching higher education (which I am not… at least not in a traditional manner). I felt like a bum (no pun intended… kinda). I realized I was talking to a group of people with a more dedicated and written out plan than I have. They are preparing themselves to care for people and make it their whole entire life. Something I want to do but I guess I want to do in a similar yet different way.

From that comes my shout out to social workers. The ones in the room today. The ones I’ve worked with before. The ones I will work with and the ones I will never know.

Thank you.

Thank you for going to school extra so you can care about people others have not cared about. Thanks for not complaining about it and putting in hard work on a daily basis. Thank you for showing me how to better love kids, adults, orphans, alcoholics, addicts, the abused and the abusers. Thank you for being enthusiastic in the classroom and in the real world. Thank you for being creative and loving and not losing the heart of what you do. Thank you for taking care of your co-workers when work gets tough. Thank you for putting up with the low pay and high stress. Thanks for not giving up and not giving in to what the world says would be smart/safe to do. Thank you for touching the lonely souls and listening to those who haven’t had anyone to talk to. Thank you for humbly walking in and doing some of the most important work I can think of.

I could go on and on but I just wanted to say if you are a social worker I respect, thank, and look up to you.

Keep it up. Remember you are doing amazing things, in practice and in preparation, every day.

Thy will be done here as it is there.

Last Sunday I was invited to head up to Grand Rapids to see what a church was doing to reach out to the homeless. From 3-5 there was pizza and people just hung out and talked before a service started at 5. When the service started the guy who invited me, Brian, and I headed out to go down to a tent city where about 8 guys live.

We hopped a curb in Brian’s minivan and headed up a service road next to some train tracks. A little ways down the road I saw a huge Budweiser banner that served as part of a wall to a shack that was built up from boards and siding and other scraps. We kept driving a little bit more and a few more sheds showed up tucked back in the woods where a huge american flag hung like a canopy in the trees.

Brian stopped the van at the last shed. He told me that the church has mainly funded and built this shed and was way better than the other places. We knocked and walked through the door that led into one room that was about ten feet by twelve feet. Three couches lined the walls which wrapped around ladder in the center of the room that went up to a lofted bed. In the corner was a wood stove where food had just been cooked. The shed smelled like chicken and charcoal.

One man sat on the couch next to me was passed out snoring the whole time we were there. Another man sat next to him with a broken heel wrapped in ace bandage and a trash bag. He had long thin red hair, hands coated with dirt and had just finished a bottle of vodka which made him very talkative.

Cookie, who is the owner of this shed, sat across from us. He wore a hat and huge glasses that I’ve only seen in pictures of my parents from the 80’s. After we shook hands my palm took some of the dirt, oil and charcoal from Cookie’s hand leaving mine dirty and dark but I really didn’t care. It reminded me of times in Denver that I oddly miss right now. We talked for a while about how life was going, how he was holding up, what supplies he needed, what problems the tent city community was having and when we might see him again. Sooner than later, after taking note of the things Cookie and the rest of the city needed, we said our goodbyes and left them sitting there in the shed.

That all made me think about how people often ask me why or how I can justify just going and being with people “like that”. Aren’t they addicted, jobless, beggars, smelly, scary, weird and not trying to become un-homeless? Well yes sometimes they are but I think what people are really asking me is how I can care about them when they don’t seem to be trying to be “normal” or “good like us”.

It really is an interesting question. Why do I do it?

I guess because I’m messed up too but I want to be perfect. I want others to be perfect. Not the perfect that is attained by our own effort and not messing up at all but the perfect that is given to us when Jesus died for us. We’re told we we’re made perfect by that. We can be seen as perfect because all our bad, our sin, our flaws, self centeredness, pride from achievements and shame from failure can be sent away. It’s how Jesus see’s us. It’s how the Bible tells and pleads with us to see each other.

So that’s why I do what I do and why I love doing it. Because in the shed next to the muddy road that lines the train tracks I believe what the Bible said could happen, why Jesus came, and how we’re supposed to live our Christian lives started to come into fruition here and now on earth. In a sense I saw 5 perfect people sitting with each other in a space that was created out of forgiveness and understanding and having the kind of value that God gave us on the sixth day when he said “this is good”. It’s the same space that was created last night when I got to hang out with 15 Young Life guys and the same space that I experienced in a brunch at a hotel with my uncle and a businessman that was worth 50 million dollars. Hobo’s, high-schoolers and millionaires… all equal and perfect and loved and enjoyed. I imagine that this space is what we mean when we talk about heaven on earth, when we say thy will be done here as it is there and when we ask to see the world through Jesus’ eyes.

Life is not about the conditions we or others are in. It’s about space we make.

*If you are interested in helping out here are a couple things we’re trying to get for Cookie and the community this week. Just an opportunity for you to be part of that space.

-Candles (tall thick ones that don’t burn out quickly), pancake mix (Meijer or Wal-Mart gift cards could work too), an acoustic guitar (if you have one sitting in the basement or one to spare? Cookie is quite the guitar player and plays for all the guys at night).

**I also need help raising my support to work at the Rescue Mission… part time at the running shop isn’t cutting it. My goal is $800/month any help would be great. Gas cards also really help out too since I do a lot of driving.

Contact me at travis.rieth@gmail.com or comment below if you’re interested in any of the above.

Thanks and God Bless.

How being a Young Life leader helped me be, be with and reach homeless people.

I remember when I became a Young Life leader. It was right at the end of May 2008 when some guys from the Fraternity I just joined encouraged me to check it out. By the end of June I had gone through a fast track of training and in July I went to my first ever Young Life camp. Ever since then I’ve been hooked. I have been to camp 4 times since then. I’ve crossed off Timberwolf, Castaway, Frontier Ranch and Pico Escondido from the list of YL camps to go to. All along the way I was slowly learning something a guy by the name of Tony Dilaura introduced me to way back in 2008 when I was just a young starry eyed 20 year old going through training.

That one thing was to “earn the right to be heard”.

That one thing has become the basis of whatever I do now with my life.

It started in Young Life and continued there throughout my time in college.

After college earning the right to be heard was really put to the test when I worked with and lived with kids at a group home. These were kids that had grown up in abuse, neglect and abandonment. For some turning to drugs, gangs, guns and anger was the answer while for most it was just their life how they had always known it.

These kids were looked down on, outcast, institutionalized and corrected by others who “know better”. People wanted to talk to them so much telling them what to do but it didn’t seem like many times in these kids life people had taken the time or put in the effort to earn the right to be heard. I was thankful to be a part of a group of people at The Dale House where a relational life where earning the right to be heard was emphasized to be a way of life rather than an exception.

Eventually the decision came to take this to where I couldn’t see it going before. To a place where there is no high school lunch room, there is no sporting event and no best week of your life at camp. A place where very few even go let alone want to listen to the people’s story who are there and take the time to earn the right to be heard.

There were a surprising amount of similarities in doing Young Life and living with homeless people. I’ve experienced the same challenges whenever my intent has been to earn the right to be heard.

The first time I walked into a high school to do some contact work I thought…

What if they don’t like me?

What if I’m not funny at club?

What if I’m the one that doesn’t fit in?

What if I can’t find the right kids?

Walking out to the streets of Denver to pursue the homeless left me with similar feelings…

Where do I go?

Who do I talk to?

Where am I going to sleep?

Where am I going to eat?

Whether it be Young Life at a high school, working at a group home or becoming homeless to reach people I wondered the same horrible thought I think we all wonder…

What if I’m terrible at this?

It’s a good fear to have. I think it’s a healthy thing to wonder so you don’t just go into others lives thinking you have yours all together.

This allowed me to go in quietly and to sit in silence and listen. It allowed someone to slowly lend me their story so that way I could go through it with them.

I’ve sat with so many adults and teens this past year. I’ve learned so many stories. I’ve heard terrible things. A girl’s life that has known little more than being raped, abandoned and then sold into human trafficking. A child whose parent killed themselves right after telling the kid it’s all their fault. A schizophrenic who no one has sat down to talk with in years. A man drinking alone in the rain who is so depressed he’s ready to kill himself. Another man who wishes someone saw one good thing about him rather than disregarding him because he’s homeless.

Earning the right to be heard often left me understanding a persons individual suffering better. Understanding pain better made me realize that the words I was planning on saying would fail and be cliche to the point that they would cause pain. I’ve learned that I can’t fix people. I don’t have the answers. I wish I did. I’ve tried to and I’ve failed. I’ve learned to stay quite more than I used to and just let someone know that I’m not going anywhere. I’ve learned to be consistent, continue to eat with people, walk through town with them, talk about baseball with them, go to their games, buy them their favorite magazine, visit them in the cafeteria or sit in sandwich lines with them just to be with them as they struggle so that they might not have to struggle alone. It’s not always the best time. It’s not always easy or profound. But when we join in that silence, in that waiting and sharing of pain and burden and people coming to know they don’t have earn your love… God is there.

Once the right to be heard has been earned it’s interesting how much less I have to say than I would have wanted to in the first place. I don’t need to say it because it’s understood.

I’m so glad I’ve been blessed to be a a part of so many people’s lives.

I’ll never forget it all started with Young Life teaching me what it means to earn the right to be heard.

What’s the point of talking?

Over the past year I’ve been a part of a ton of second hand conversations. Whether it be the time I was on the streets, laying down in a park, reading comments on a blog or sitting in a coffee shop I hear small parts of many conversations. Especially in the coffee shop I go to regularly. Given that it’s near a high school, college, seminary and homeless shelter there are a pretty eclectic group of people that gather here. Given the variety of people conversing I think I have heard a debate over pretty much everything. I promise I’m not trying to listen but people talk loud… and it’s interesting (not gonna not listen).

People putting opinion on top of opinion is usually what it’s all about. It’s not a bad thing since these opinions stack up from personal experience. I often wonder what those opinions are exactly. Where have these people come from? Why do they think these ways? What’s the point of talking so much? I don’t always agree or disagree or even care but I still wonder about these people’s lives that have led to this talk. More so I wonder what that looks like in their actual life. Where are their opinions turning into actions? Are their opinions and ideals even turning into actions?

I have to remember though that I am often the one having these conversations. People hear me too. And as much as I wonder about where they are coming from I can only assume they wonder the same things about me. If I’m going to wonder about others others I have to be a my own biggest skeptic. I have to ask…

Where are my opinions and ideals turning into action? Are they?

I have to make sure my life, my potential and my thoughts don’t end when I walk out of the coffee shop. When the conversation ends is when the stuff that really matters begins. At that point it’s not a matter of right living as much as it is a wonder of potential that leads to what we’re all pursuing. It’s the slight difference between setting expectations so you can meet them and pursuing ideals to see what’s possible.

I think we all have this natural curiosity to push our personal limits. Do we really follow that curiosity though? Personally I think it should be more encouraged than it is. It should be a way of life not just a conversation in a coffee shop. It takes hard work and dedication but that’s the stuff that makes a difference. I believe these conversations we have are good. They should happen more. They shouldn’t put our minds at ease though as much as they stir our lives into action that is based on the faith of what we believe in.

From all these second hand conversations I’ve gotten one thing. We all believe in a better way to live. If we didn’t we wouldn’t be talking so much.

We believe in helping others, feeding the hungry, reaching out to the lonely, being a better friend and showing God to the world. We believe that we can push ourselves physically, mentally and spiritually to live a better life. Those are just our beliefs and ideals though. The point of talking in this way should be to discover them. Once discovered though we can’t mistake them for a finish line when in reality they are just starting blocks. Beliefs and ideals just allow us something to push off of and move. They are not permission to stop moving.

Questions: How are you willing to live and show that what you talk about is not just talk? Are you determined to find out that what you believe in actually exists? How do you accomplish this daily?