Orange Mound Psalmists
We are constantly rewarded but rarely challenged by the devoted volunteers who frequent The House. There is a steady stream of experts and experienced friends, of many trades, who come for lunch and connect pieces of the very challenging one-thousand-piece puzzle of loving neighbors as we love ourselves.
Recently, a favorite friend came for lunch. She visits with enthusiasm rarely experienced within our walls. I have worried more than once that she might not read the room well or perceive the vibe when she arrives. One day recently, unencumbered and armor-clad, she deftly and ingeniously opened King David’s Psalm 100 while we continued eating. Patiently, she waited until the paper plates were cleared and in Mary Poppins fashion, handed out worksheets and pencils to all. My expectations for the rest of the hour collapsed while hers prevailed.
“Make a joyful noise unto the Lord,” the psalm begins, and she continued, ignoring the fatigued body language of a few. She diagramed the salient points of the psalm and made it clear that she would fill the remaining hour. The energy began to change.
Our friends in Orange Mound have rarely, if ever, been in a setting such as the one unfolding in our lunchroom. We obediently filled in the answers on the atypical worksheets she provided. Everyone participated. A seasoned teacher with a positive grasp of the possibilities of her class summons latent skills and sharpens them. No one in the room balked.
My skepticism shamed me, and my doubts drained away as the hour filled with uncommon hope. Despite that, I countered with certainty, that she was past naïve when she required homework to be completed in two weeks.
“Write a psalm and complete it in the tone of King David’s manner.” She continued ignoring the gasps. “Begin with praise, address God personally, extol God’s attributes, thank Him in specific ways for several things, and end again with praise.” She nodded with a smile, “Are there any questions? I’ll be back in two weeks, and we will share each of your original psalms.” The only thing lacking was two clicks of her heels as she left.
It’s clunky to dwell on socio-cultural differences. However, the myriad of different life circumstances and varied resources are palpable at 3028 Carnes. Homework heretofore, though hardly ever suggested, has been lost, stolen, forgotten or eaten by the dog.
This week, she returned as promised. My heart melted with surprise to see that every lady but one had her homework finished and ready.
I have copies of all the psalms that were proudly shared in the room. The spectrum of their experiences is not my own. I am daily fumbling as I navigate our different social and cultural norms. Though the mosaic of backgrounds and perspectives prevails, we have the same Father.
Now, it is evident that they have turned their frequently shared sadness of the absence of their earthly fathers into a deeper and abiding trust in our Heavenly One.
One wrote:
“When I think about You, God, all I can say is I am not worthy.”
Another:
“Thank you, Lord, for waking me up, protecting my family while I was away, and answering my prayers for getting me out of that jail cell.” (She was in jail for twenty months at 201 Poplar.)
Still another wrote:
“Thank you, God, for my kids, my job, my mind, my health, my things; but most of all, thank you for being my dad.”
One who has come to us after years on the streets: “Thank you for giving me peace, sobriety from my addiction, and providing me the return to my family.”
There were many more, but one is so well said, and I end with her love of God’s attributes:
“How blessed I am that Your name resides in my mouth. Father, I don’t wish to wonder where I would be without You. Father, You redeemed me from my poor decisions and ungodly choices. I thank you for rescuing me when I was below bottom. You forgave my sins and forgot them as well. Gracious, God, keep me in Your will.”
May that sink in to us all as our cup overflows, we spill the tea, and spread the news of what He is doing at My Cup of Tea in Orange Mound.