This translation is not completely accurate as it was automatically generated by a computer.
Powered by
A UMNS Report
By Amanda Bachus*
6:00 A.M. EDT August 22, 2011 | EL PASO, Texas (UMNS)
The Rev. Lorenza Andrade-Smith (right) visits with Jody, a homeless man
who is taking shelter inside a box culvert beneath a busy street in El
Paso, Texas.
UMNS photos by Mike DuBose.
View in Photo Gallery
View Slideshow
As I struggled while climbing down a narrow dirt path toward the bottom
of a rocky hill, I asked myself whether I could give up all of my
possessions.
We were trying to get under the bridge, a path accessible only from the
sidewalk through a makeshift entryway covered by bushes.
I was not wearing the right kind of shoes for this terrain. It was a
steep, rocky hill where the Rev. Lorenza Andrade-Smith took us. Mike
DuBose, our United Methodist News Service photographer; Pamela Barragán,
our volunteer driver; and I were headed for a quick visit to the
shelter that Lorenza, a United Methodist pastor, is sharing with her
homeless friends beneath an underpass in the downtown El Paso area. It
was hot!
Could I sell my house, my car and all my possessions and dare to live on
the streets? Lorenza has been doing that for the last six months. Three
months ago, United Methodist Bishop James E. Dorff of the Southwest
Texas Annual (regional) Conference appointed Lorenza to lead a ministry
with the poor and marginalized, advocating for systemic changes.
She chose to take a leave of absence from her church and conference
duties and to renounce all of her possessions, including her home, her
car and her salary.
I ran into Lorenza in El Paso where we both were attending the annual
meeting of MARCHA, Methodists Associated Representing the Cause of
Hispanic-Americans. I asked her when she would start her new ministry
appointment. “I am in my new job, and this is my ministry,” she said. “I
am taking a vow of poverty, and I am dedicating myself to learn to live
on the streets for three years to understand the plight of the homeless
and the needy.”
I was speechless. I thought she was going to do this homeless
experience for three to six months before starting her office work for
the poor. “Why?” I asked her.
"I have to live it to understand it," she responded. "I think I could
not work or advocate on their behalf if I did not know what it is to
live it."
She couldn't see it any other way, she said.
She could read my face while I struggled to try to ask the right questions to understand why she chose this path.
Smith sits with Lester beneath the bridge. The United Methodist pastor
has taken a vow of poverty and renounced her home, her car and her
salary for three years.
View in Photo Gallery
An invitation to visit
She asked me if I wanted to visit a homeless group she met in an area of downtown El Paso.
“Sure,” I said.
The shelter was near where we were meeting. Lorenza pointed to Pamela
and told her she could park in the nearby McDonald’s parking lot.
We had to walk a short distance.
“I need to go first and make sure they agree for visitors to come to
their place,” she told us. We saw her quickly go down the path and
disappear. Later, she emerged and signaled for us to come down.
“Watch your step. Be careful,” she said. Mike wore walking shoes; he was
smart. He went first. I was next, thinking Pamela would stay behind
since she was wearing high heels. No, she wanted to go. Pamela is a lay
leader at La Puerta Abierta United Methodist Church in St. Paul, Minn.,
and a police officer. We all made it down to what seemed to be a dry
riverbed.
I met Lorenza when she still was in seminary. She looked so young, with a
determined demeanor, which I’ve learned to admire. She went to serve at
Westlawn United Methodist Church in San Antonio. Soon she was outspoken
about issues of injustice in her community. She joined other groups
outside her church and other conferences. She vowed to be anywhere she
is called to join hands and raise a voice for justice.
Currently she has two charges, at Travis Park United Methodist Church
with the Southwest Conference, and at La Trinidad United Methodist
Church with Rio Grande Conference.
Late last year, she was arrested after refusing to leave
U.S. Sen. Kay Bailey Hutchinson’s San Antonio office. She had joined
students in support of the immigration-reform legislation known as the DREAM Act,
which would allow children of undocumented immigrants who come to the
United States as small children to continue their studies and attend
college.
We walked down the dry riverbed to something that looked like a concrete
vault where we found three homeless men who seemed happy to see Lorenza
as they came to greet us. We said “hello” to Jody and Lester and
started an informal conversation.
It was awkward, but soon I regained my composure and started asking
questions of two of the three men. The third man preferred to listen to
music and asked us to respect his privacy.
The site looked like a huge, empty airplane vault space filled with dirt
and rocks. There were few cleared patches. This was home to Lester and
Jody. It would be home for Lorenza tonight as she demonstrated how the
mat she carried and the thin blanket she used — plus a ski pole for
protection — are plenty for her. She had only a backpack and her cell
phone, and she uses her little “Eeyore” plush donkey toy as a pillow.
She said she feels more fortunate than her homeless acquaintances.
Smith carries a rolled sleeping mat, a stuffed donkey and a hiking staff on her journey.
View in Photo Gallery
‘Quieter than my bench’
“At least I can get to sleep in a bed from time to time,” she said
noting that the others cannot. “Here, it is much quieter than my bench
in San Antonio where it is in the open near the Alamo.” She has been
ticketed by the police for using a bench in the park as her bed.
Lorenza comfortably sat and talked with Lester and Jody. Mike started to
take some photographs. They told us several short, random stories. I
asked Lester how long he had been living on the streets. “Ever since I
was 15,” he said.
Lester showed us his area and his favorite spot, which looked like a mud
bed covered with a raggedy straw mat. I noticed his possessions seemed
to be a small bag and, perhaps, a blanket.
Jody talked about the difficulty finding medical assistance. He
remembered when a friend had gangrene in one of his legs and was in
great pain. It was time to call an ambulance, so Jody went for help and
asked someone to call 911. The person refused, saying it was illegal.
Jody said he responded that it was illegal not to assist someone in
danger and he would report it. The man eventually called 911.
Curious passers-by peeped over the bridge. They kept walking and turning back. They had questioning looks.
As we headed back to the car, I felt a myriad of emotions.
I felt blessed while trying not to compare my circumstance to the
situation of the people I had just seen. I have plenty, perhaps more
than I need.
I also thought about Lorenza. What she is doing goes beyond what my
“material girl” mind can comprehend. I felt a deep sadness because I
feel so tiny compared to this petite great woman.
I couldn’t hide an enormous sense of admiration as I waved goodbye.
I am in awe of this fragile-looking but strong woman who has embarked on
a mysterious journey of renunciation in solidarity with those on the
margins of society. With empathy, she now lives on the streets trying
to learn how it really is to go without.
I wasn’t feeling hungry or hot at that moment.
* Bachus is editor of el Intérprete magazine and director of Spanish resources.
News media contact: Amanda Bacchus, Nashville, Tenn., (615) 742-5470 or newsdesk@umcom.org.
Korean News
Glad you liked it. Would you like to share?
Showing 7 comments