Monday, August 01, 2005

The Anti-Ghetto (August 2005)

I know. I'm sorry. It's been way too long.

If my calculations are correct, it's been almost two entire years since the last official AGA episode (Teaching Assistant Thinks Amy is an Alcoholic) and I really have no excuses for allowing this length of time to pass. I can't say that I've lost interest: after all, Foolish Things Ministries (FTM) is my passion (motto: Our Embarrassment Is Your Entertainment). I can't say that I haven't had the time to log entries, because most AGA episodes are penned after the midnight hour. And I certainly can't say that I just haven't done anything dumb in the past two years.

(Just pausing here to let those who are paralyzed with laughter scrape themselves off of the floor.)

Whatever the reason, I offer my deepest apologies. And now, without further ado, I present to you:

Amy's Great Adventures, Episode XVII: The Anti-Ghetto.

It all began on a beautiful Friday afternoon in downtown Brooklyn. I was very excited because I was going to see my friend Ivy's new apartment for the first time and just enjoy a nice relaxing evening. I met her at the Brooklyn Tabernacle and went down into the F train station. Upon swiping my MetroCard, I noticed that I had just spent my last $2.00 and made a mental note to pick up another card on my way back home.

Those of you who are schooled in AGA are probably beginning to chuckle at this point, thinking "Amy? Make a mental note? Oh, this is going to be good." I think the problem is that my mental notepad is actually an Etch-A-Sketch. So I make very detailed, thorough mental notes... but the minute that something else catches my attention, the Etch-A-Sketch swings back to ready itself for another mental note, completely eliminating the old one from existence. However, in this particular episode, Mental Etch-A-Sketch (MEAS) does not come into play... so to those who were chuckling, I say "HA! You think you're so smart?? I have PLENTY of other ways to engage in idiocy!"

Upon arriving at Ivy's house, I spent a very pleasant evening relaxing and catching up, sharing Brazil pictures, etc. At one point, her roommate stuck her head into the room and said, "Hey, can any of you use an unlimited MetroCard? I'm going away and it has about two days or so left on it..." Praise the Lord! Providence is the bomb. I didn't even ask for one, and the Lord drops one right in my lap. Woo hoo! Etch-A-Sketch, be free! I was about to leave Ivy's at about 10:00 pm, when I had my Most Brilliant Idea. I had taken the F train to get to Ivy's, but in order for me to get home I would have to take at least a train to a bus. However, I seemed to recall that Flatbush Avenue was somewhere very close by to where Ivy lived. If I could find Flatbush, then I could just hop on the 41 bus, which would take me directly to my house. I'm so smart.

Of course, I didn't just go wandering off into the Brooklyn night. I mean, what kind of FOOLISH PERSON would just START WALKING, not knowing where they are going, at 10:00 pm in the depths of Brooklyn?? Certainly not I! I whipped out my pocket subway map, which is approximately the size of a thimble, and squinted as I peered into the darkness. "Ah yes!," I exclaimed. "Here we are, and here's Flatbush! Only one block away!" Ivy, who is a Brooklyn newcomer, just happily pointed me in the right direction, and I set on my way.

Now, for those of you who are not as familiar with the New York City area, the word "block" can take on a variety of meanings. For example, in Manhattan there is a large difference between a "street block" and an "avenue block." A street block is what most people would commonly consider a "block." Walking a couple of street blocks is no big thing. If you would like to walk a couple of "avenue blocks," however, you might want to consider rationing your foodstuffs. Depending on the location in Manhattan, it would take a average person of somewhat stable physical health between 1 to 3 years to cross an avenue block. But if you're starting to get worried, don't. Remember, I'm not in Manhattan! I'm in Brooklyn, where avenue blocks and street blocks make no sense at all! A compass cannot even find North in Brooklyn. Blocks are a lot more casual here. Streets change name whenever they feel like it... blocks intersect each other two or three times... and every once in a while they will just uproot completely and plant themselves in a totally different area of Brooklyn. In fact, if any of you happen upon Maple St, please let me know. I once looked for an apartment on this block and it has been missing now for 3 years. Thank you.

Oh, the digression! I apologize. So let's recap here before the fun begins. The scene: Windsor Terrace, Brooklyn. 10:00 pm. Friday evening. Heading from Ivy's apartment towards Flatbush Avenue, "one block away." Alone. Anyone with the IQ of cabbage would realize that this is a recipe for Unbelievable Disaster. But no! If my one-centimeter-square subway map said that Flatbush is one block away, then by golly, it will be one block away! And it was one block away. However, the "block," in this case, happened to be the equivalent of fourteen street blocks. Yes, that's right. Fourteen. See, the street that I was traveling on happened to cut right across the bottom of Prospect Park, opposite to the Parade Grounds. So Friday night, 10 pm, alone, in the depths of Brooklyn... fourteen blocks. Oh, and one more problem that I think I should mention: I was the Anti-Ghetto.

I don't stick out quite as obviously as I did when I first arrived in NYC. I've learned to adapt, to blend in a bit more. But for some ironic reason, on Friday night I was the whitest that I have been in years. I was wearing a jean skirt and a black tank top with little tie-on sleeves. My hair was half-up and extremely blond. I was carrying an enormous gray purse right in front of my body that practically screamed "ROB ME!", and my sunglasses were resting neatly atop my butterfly clip. And I had on Birkenstocks (Nana, stop laughing). It took me about 5 minutes to realize that I had made a Very Serious Error. No cars. No people. Hardly any streetlights. And LOTS of benches with hooded figures sitting on them. I could have turned around, but I figured that would have attracted more attention (like that was possible) and I was still convinced that Flatbush would appear any moment. So I decided that I had better look as tough as possible so that the hooded figures would be too intimidated to come and kill me.

How To Look As Intimidating As Possible In Three Easy Steps:

1. Walk purposefully and quickly. Unless you have on a skirt, which would cause you to trip over yourself and nearly take a tumble to the ground... at which point you would stand up and use one hand to hold your skirt up as you continued to walk, sending your Whiteness Factor into the billions.

2. Fix your face in a hard stare. Unless it's 10:00 at night and there are no traffic lights, in which case your squinting would probably irritate your contact lenses, which would cause them to become blurry and threaten to pop out of your eyes, at which point you would actually CONSIDER stopping to rummage through your purse for rewetting drops, and decide instead to just blink furiously, which would completely eliminate any attempt at fixing your face in a hard stare.

3. Find anything nearby to use as a weapon. Unless you had already decided that rummaging would be a bad idea, and you begin thinking that with all of the amazing resources that you can find in your purse, you never considered adding, say, a machete to the mix... so you settle with a ballpoint pen. Armed and dangerous.

And if none of those things work, use what you have. A cell phone.

Now, fortunately, I had enough brain cells still engaged to realize that I shouldn't just open up my cell phone and start talking on it. I needed to keep all of my senses sharp, so that if I heard footsteps approaching me I could shriek like a banshee. So I decided to just OPEN my phone and keep it in my hand. My thought was that perhaps the potential attackers would see that, at any moment, I could dial 911. Of course, further thought would have led to the conclusion that if I had NEEDED to dial 911 I still would have had to punch in the numbers, push SEND, lift the phone to my ear, wait for the ring... rendering my "weapon" completely pointless. So there I am, whiter than snow, lifting up my skirt to reveal my Birkenstocks, walking alone in the utter darkness in a bad neighborhood... but don't worry. My cell phone is out.

I joke, but this part was pretty scary and the praying was pretty intense. After what seemed like years, I finally saw a sign that said "Flatbush Avenue" and I could have kissed it. I started to jog once I could see cars and people, and I got to Flatbush just in time to see two 41 buses pulling away from the corner. I then had to wait 10 more minutes on Flatbush Avenue at the bus stop, feeling slightly safer but incredibly out-of place. I called Ivy at this point and said something to the effect of "DON'T YOU EVER LET ME DO THAT AGAIN!!!!!" and just prayed that the bus would come early. Ten minutes later, a 41 pulls up and I step aboard. I breathed a silent prayer of thanks for Ivy's roommate giving me that MetroCard, because otherwise I would have been SUNK. You can't buy a MetroCard on the bus, and the only other option would be exact change. I stuck the MetroCard in the slot, and I heard the boop.

There are two possible sounds that you can hear when you insert a MetroCard. One sound is "Boop!!!:)" This sound is the higher-toned noise that indicates that your MetroCard has been accepted, that you should enjoy your ride. The other sound is boop. That sound means that something is wrong and that other passengers, by law, must begin to look up and snicker at you. However, sometimes boop happens by accident, so I tried the card again. boop. I looked at the screen and it said "Insufficient Fare." This is impossible! Ivy's roommate said there were two days left on the card! I started to panic, but then relaxed. I ALWAYS carry a ton of change around in my purse... because I needed to have quarters available for parking meters. But just that morning, I had decided to take all of the change OUT of my purse since I wasn't driving anymore! What a GREAT IDEA!! So the bus has already pulled away... I have no MetroCard and no change. I mustered up all of my feminine wiles and decided to sneak a peek at the driver, to gauge whether or not there was a chance he might let me ride for free. I took one look and received my answer, which was something to the effect of "get your wiles off of my bus."

So it was back out onto the streets of Flatbush once again. I didn't panic-- I knew that I just needed to find a subway, because then I could buy a MetroCard with my debit card. Unfortunately, I knew EXACTLY where I was at this point because I teach near that area, and I knew that the closest subway stop was at least 10 minutes away (and now those of you who know where I teach can get an indication of the type of neighborhood I was in). Finally, I decided that I was just going to try to find a non-scary-looking store and get $2.00 worth of change so that I could pay for the bus ride. It took me about 5 blocks to find a store worthy of the title "non-scary-looking." I got my change and continued walking to the next bus stop, which was at Flatbush and Empire Blvd, for those more familiar with the Brooklyn area.

At this point, all I wanted was to go home. The humor of the situation was starting to kick in, now that I had become fully aware that I had made it through the ordeal with all body parts intact... but it was still almost an hour after I had left Ivy's, and I was hungry. I stood there at the bus stop as a bunch of extremely threatening-looking individuals gathered around me to also wait for the bus. Tension is mounting and I'm holding on to my $2.00 in change a bit tighter. I started trying to intercept any other potential idiotic situations, just to make sure that this next step would be the last of the night. "Amy, do NOT drop your change into the grate. Amy, do NOT get on a bus going in the opposite direction. Amy, do NOT notice that a large number of the Threatening Looking Individuals have started to gather and snicker at you."

I continued this helpful self-talk until a bus appeared on the horizon and I nearly exploded with relief. This lasted approximately 5 seconds until I realized that this was the wrong bus. At this point, all energy was re-directed into Urge Suppression, because I was getting desperate enough to jump on the bus and force the driver to drive directly to my house and then come back and continue his route. Ten more minutes passed, and I saw a 41 bus. I didn't care whether it was local or limited... I could take either. I knew it was a 41 because I could see the sign. I checked my change-- still in the purse. I checked the bus stop-- I was going in the right direction. The Threatening Looking Individuals began to rise and congregate near the bus stop, so I knew that I was home free. Then something curious happened. All of the passengers on the 41 got up to exit the bus. "Strange," I thought. "I didn't realize that this was such a popular stop." And then I saw them. Just three little words that completely crushed any remaining hopes that I had.

Next bus please.

Note: THIS IS NOT THE END OF THE BUS LINE!! In fact, it is pretty much DIRECTLY in the middle of the line, at a stop that intersects two major streets in Brooklyn. Why on EARTH would a bus decide that its route was finished at THIS PARTICULAR STOP?!?! I never received an answer. Someone muttered something about an oil change, but there was not a gas station in sight. So now I am still waiting at Flatbush and Empire, with all of the Threatening Looking Individuals who are now ANGRY Threatening Looking Individuals because of the bus fiasco, PLUS all of the Threatening Looking Individuals who had just gotten OFF the bus which had come directly from East Flatbush, Brooklyn. By this point I had relaxed, thinking that if I was going to be killed, mugged, threatened or otherwise attacked it would have already happened. A real bus finally came and I made my way home.

I still can't quite figure out how I managed to make it through the evening without at LEAST getting mugged or propositioned. I've come up with two possible theories: 1) The Lord had mercy on this foolish girl and sent big, strong, scary-looking angels to protect me. Or 2) The potential perpetrators were so dumbfounded by the Anti-Ghetto that they could only stop and stare. Or maybe they were seriously worried about that ballpoint pen and open cell phone. Or maybe... well, I suppose it doesn't matter. The point is, praise God, I'm safe now.

Oh, and by the way... the MetroCard that Ivy's roommate gave me? Found it in my purse the minute I got home with the promised two days still remaining. See, my Etch-A-Sketch was so busy thinking about the future that I forgot about the present, and I neglected to dispose of the MetroCard that I had finished after getting on the train to Ivy's. I simply stuck it back in my wallet in my MetroCard slot. And for some reason, the MetroCard that Ivy's roommate gave me just went haphazardly into my purse. And this is what AGA is all about.

Morals of the story? Don't attempt to fix your face in a steely glare if you're wearing contacts. Always carry a ballpoint pen with you if you're walking late at night. And finally, never rely on a peanut-sized map to establish distance. Until next time... we are Foolish Things Ministries: Confounding Wisdom and Common Sense in a Neighborhood Near You! (Now I just need a theme song.)

Friday, July 01, 2005

Shower Power (July 2005)

from the Transitions Website "Thoughts of The Week"

And now it’s time for another testimony from… Foolish Things Ministries! (Confounding Wisdom and Common Sense in a Neighborhood Near You)

I feel as though I am obligated to warn anyone who will listen to be very careful what you pray for. Cause I've learned that if you pray something like: "God, send me someone that I can share the gospel with today," it's very possible that you could end up with a homeless woman in your shower.

I learned this the hard way a couple of weeks ago while walking home from prayer meeting. I was feeling a bit guilty because I realized that I hadn't really been able to witness to anyone that week, so I started talking to God as I walked home and saying, "You know, God, I have so much going on right now with work and school and all this stuff, but I feel like I haven't given any time to what's really important, and there are so many people that walk by me every day that are headed for hell. I'm still not very good at this, as You know, but... could you just send me someone that needs the gospel? I don't know... someone at my job that I could talk to, or a family member... just, you know, open a door."

Then I changed the subject and started talking about something else, but once again I think that God began to shake His head and smile. Omniscience must be pretty cool.

I finished up my chat with the Lord as I reached my block. As I was fumbling for my keys, I noticed three people, two men and a woman, sitting on the side of the street near my door. I only caught a quick glimpse of them as I walked up to my door, but they looked pretty young, maybe in their late twenties. The weird part was that when I happened to glimpse over, the woman was looking right at me and smiled. I was kinda caught off guard, so I muttered some kind of, "How ya' doin'?" and dropped my keys. Very slick. I quickly picked them up, mumbling some excuse that was totally unnecessary, and hurried inside. The first thing I thought was "... what a foolish thing to say to a homeless person. How ya' doin'. Uh, probably not very well! Yeesh."

Rolling my eyes at myself, I took about three steps up the stairs and suddenly remembered my innocent little prayer about sending me someone who needed the gospel. I stopped right there on the stairs and just stood there. It was one of those times where I knew that the next step that I took would determine my action... if I stepped forward, it was up the stairs, into the apartment, and then the coat would come off and there was no chance of venturing back into the outside world. If I turned around, it was back outside, back to the homeless people and another opportunity to embarrass myself. It was a bit humorous, because I was having this intense debate in my mind, but to any outside observer, I was just standing there for no apparent reason in the middle of the steps. And I was thinking:

Aww, MAN. Is this You, God? Did You do this? Well, I DID ask You for someone. I just... didn't think that it will be THESE someones. But, I mean, I can't go back out there NOW. I already passed them and asked them how they were doing. What possible reason would I have for going back out there now? I guess I don't really need a reason... but... now it's going to be very difficult to strike up a conversation without them immediately thinking, "There's something wrong with you." You know what? I'm probably making this up. Why do I automatically think that these people were the answer to my prayer?

Incidentally, is there a spirit of Think? If so, I think I need deliverance.

But if I go up these stairs, then I'm gonna sit up there wondering if I was supposed to do this or not. And I'd rather make the mistake and go than not go. What's the worst that can happen?

I've also learned not to ask "What's the worst that can happen?".

Finally I just said, "whatever" and dropped everything on the floor and walked out the door without a single thought in my head. It was a nice change.

I got outside and only the one woman was left. I walked up to her and asked if she was okay and if she needed anything, and she seemed very shy but finally said that she was very thirsty. My heart just broke and I couldn't believe that I was just upstairs going through mental gymnastics while this poor woman was sitting down here who just wanted a glass of water. I immediately said, "oh, no problem! I live right here, I'll just run upstairs and get you some. In fact... do you want to come upstairs while I get it?" I can't tell who was more surprised at the second half of that statement. She said, "Oh... wow, really? Um.. okay!" I helped her gather her things and as we were walking up I said, "Is there anything else that you need? Anything else that I can help you with?" Again, she was very shy but she said "um... well... it's been a really long time since I've had a shower."

I felt so bad about the fact that I almost didn't come back down that I think I would have given this woman ANYTHING that she asked for. So the next thing I know, I'm running around my apartment looking for spare towels, getting out some soap that she can use. I did manage to get her name through all of this-- Francine. So I gave Francine what she needed, and she was so incredibly grateful, and as she closed the bathroom door I said "let me know if you need anything!" The minute that door closed, all of the thought that I had left upstairs slammed into me full force, and my eyes got very large as I realized what was actually happening.

There's a homeless woman in my shower. There's a... oh... oh my GOODNESS there is a HOMELESS WOMAN IN MY SHOWER!!! What.... how... what was I THINKING? Right. I wasn't thinking. Well, NOW what do I do?? Okay, okay, don't panic. You're going to.. um.. you're going to let her finish her shower... and then... get her some water... and then... share the gospel with her! Outside!

This was very amusing to my roommates, because the shower naturally took quite a bit of time… and the more time I had to just stand there and wait, the more panicked I became. I knew that I was going to tell her about Jesus, but I work best when I don't have a lot of time to sit around and analyze. So I was listening for the water to turn off because I knew that then it was just about time for me to speak to her, but there were a few times when the water kind of diminished and then came back again. I thought I was going to have a stroke. Finally she came out and I was able to talk to her a bit about the Lord... it didn't seem like anything really stuck but she did say that she wanted to come to the church sometime.

Most of you are probably thinking one of two things (or both):
1. Wow, this is a cool story!
2. Um, don’t these “Thoughts Of The Week” usually have, like, a point?

And, in fact, I do! I have a couple of points. First and foremost, if you ask the Lord to give you opportunity to share the gospel, I can guarantee that He will. He may not do it in the way that you might have LIKED, but He’ll do it nonetheless… and He’ll do it in SPITE of you and all of your issues. Secondly, our job is not to see souls saved. Our job is to preach the gospel in obedience to the Lord and let HIM worry about the results. We might be seed planters, we might be waterers, or we might have the privilege of reaping a harvest that many other people have tended (1 Cor 3:6-7). Don’t be discouraged if you seem to make a total mess of a witnessing situation, because you have no idea what the Lord is doing in a person’s heart.

Until next time… praise God for using earthen vessels. But be careful what you pray for!