A Lesson in Optimism

It was a warm, sunny afternoon and we were outside a building in downtown Knoxville emptying the trunk of a sky blue Honda Odyssey.  It was not a good area for anyone to be in.  The windows of most buildings were broken, there were bars on the doors in others, there were vagabonds on the sidewalks, and even the streets looked unfortunate with a myriad of potholes and paint so faded it was almost nonexistent.  It was a scary area, and I wanted to get into the van and go home. 
My friend, Courtney, and her mother, Gay, volunteered at Knoxville Area Rescue Mission, or KARM, one Tuesday a month.  They helped the women who stayed there get ready for the long night, and they had invited me to come along.  We were going to be serving the women ice cream as a special treat.  I had never been, and, to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t really looking forward to it either.  Although I only had a vague idea of what KARM was, I had already made some assumptions about what would happen: I figured there would be many homeless women in a crowded room lined with stained mattresses, that I would probably be bored all night, that most of the women in the shelter had probably made huge, life altering mistakes, and it was their own fault that they were in this situation.  There was a multitude of homeless women, but that is all I was correct about.  I didn’t know then that the few hours I spent with these women would have such a large impact on me and change the way I view the world.
When we entered the building men and women were already lined up in the doorway hoping they would be close enough to the front of the line to get a bed for the night.  Already I was shocked.  I had no idea that there were so many people without homes in the Knoxville area.  I did not have much time to dwell on it though because we had reached the volunteer sign in desk.  We wrote our names, contact information, our time in, and what, exactly, we would be doing that night.  We then continued into the building. 
We walked down a sloping stone ramp.  A very large, dim room came into view once we reached the bottom.  Flimsy bunk beds lined the walls and made rows in the center of the room.  There were also single beds scattered throughout the room.  Other mattresses were stacked against the walls.  Their purpose was unclear at the time, but I would soon learn that they were provided for the women who came after all the bunk beds and single beds were taken.  The walls were made of cinderblock, and painted neutral colors.  In certain areas, however, there were large, bright murals painted on the walls.  Under each picture was a Bible verse with and encouraging message.  At the far end of the long, rectangular room I could see a wide passage with no doors.  “Through there,” I was told by Courtney, “are the showers, toilets, and sinks.  There aren’t doors, just shower curtains.  They don’t get any privacy for changing, but they don’t seem to mind too much.”
Gay and the head volunteer brought out two long tables for me and Courtney to place the treats on.  We had several gallon buckets of vanilla ice cream, chocolate syrup, caramel, cherries, M&M’s, peanuts, sprinkles, and a myriad of other toppings.  We also set out large coolers of drinks that contained water, lemonade, and tea.  There were cookies and chips that were brought by another volunteer.
It wasn’t long before we heard voices and the pattering of feet on the stone ramp.  The women began to file into the room.  There were tons of them.  There were women representing every age group from the young runaways to the elderly, carrying canes to support them in their journeys.  There were members of every race and even several nationalities.  Many had a haggard appearance as if living on the streets of downtown Knoxville was all they had ever known.  Others appeared as if they were new to this type of harsh environment.  Many of the women seemed to have aged far more than natural due to their unfortunate circumstances.  Some had children with them, and this fact alone was enough to break my heart.  Most faces were red from the scorching sun.  They all appeared to be very tired. 
Every woman’s face, however, lit up when she saw the snacks.  The smiles alone would have been gratitude enough, but that’s not all they gave us.  Each personally came through the line to get their snack just the way they liked it, and each woman thanked all of us individually.  They each spoke of how uplifting it was to get a special treat.  Several told us that it was the highlight of their day.  It was amazing to see how important a little ice cream was to these people.  I was glad I was able to give them something.
After settling in, the ladies seemed to have a renewed energy.  Some of the women who had been to KARM before were showing new women around and how things were done.  Each woman claimed a bed for herself.  I was surprised at how free they felt in moving their beds and mattresses.  Most women ended up moving their beds to be closer to their friends.  Many showered and asked us to watch their personal belongings while they were unattended.  The room was alive with the buzz of conversations on a multitude of topics touching everything from their histories to the best show on television.  Several women were singing songs.  A few were songs from foreign lands these women heard in their distant homes, but the majority of them were religious in nature.  I heard the sweet, moving melody of “Amazing Grace” sung tearful emotion as well as other songs such as “Just a Closer Walk with Thee” and “What a Friend We Have in Jesus”.  Some women sang contemporary Christian songs like “Amazing Love”.  All of them were songs with a positive outlook on life and religion.  A few women even felt like dancing to some of the ones with faster rhythms.  I was shocked that they could be so peppy, but I enjoyed listening to their songs.  It was very interesting to find that they loved these well known songs and believed in their messages.
About this time, several women decided to talk to volunteers.  A few knew Gay, Courtney, and the other volunteers well, while others were unknown.  All of them had a story to tell, and each one was as amazing as the one before.  These stories were filled with emotion and were inspiring to hear.  Their uplifting messages have remained in my heart and changed my opinion on many things.
One of these ladies was a young Chinese woman probably in her late twenties.  She had come to America in hopes of escaping the poverty of her native land.  Raised in a large city, she was used to being in spaces crowed by multiple families.  She seemed to be in her element almost.  She told us in broken English, “I had no family.  I saved everything I could to come to America.  It is not as bad here.  I like it.  There is hope in America.  I miss home, but I love here.  It is much... better.”  She spoke of how this country provided its people with opportunity, something she had never experienced before.  It was amazing to see someone who had nothing by our Western standards and yet felt like she had gained everything.
One of the other women we talked to was by far the cheeriest person in the room.  Courtney had said earlier, “There is one woman that you will know when you see her.  She is always excited and fun no matter what she’s going through.  You’ll love her!”  Courtney was right.  I did love her almost instantly, and her story touched me more than all the rest.
She was a small African American woman, probably in her late forties.  She, however, looked much older.  Her hair was almost entirely gray, and her face was covered in wrinkles.  I don’t remember her name, but I know her face well.  She introduced herself and couldn’t wait to tell us all her good news: she had worked enough to be able to afford a small apartment.
I knew she was homeless, but I didn’t understand the extent of her hardship.  She realized that I was new to KARM and did not know her story, and didn’t hesitate to catch me up.  She told me of her abusive husband that forced her to leave, of her endless wanderings, and her absolute poverty.  I was amazed at her honesty with a complete stranger.  She didn’t seem to be ashamed at all.  She said, “Leaving was the best thing I ever did.  I was abused in my own home, and while it may have put me out on the streets, I don’t regret it for a second.”  The whole time she was telling this heart-wrenching tale she said over and over again, “But I knew God would bring me through.  I just kept praying.”  A few weeks before I went to KARM she was offered a steady job.  She worked hard and saved every bit she could.  She was so proud.  “This is my last night here in the shelter!  I got a job!  I got a home!  I earned the money for it all by myself.  I knew God would take care of me in the end!  All you need is prayer, faith, and hard work!”
When she had finished her story I was almost in tears.  It was the most beautiful tale I had ever heard.  She continued to say that she believed things would keep getting better, and that she was grateful for all that was done for her by churches, the rescue mission, and most of all, by God.  She went around the room telling everyone who would listen to her story, and I was awed not just by her tale and faith, but by the hope it gave the other women.  These ladies may have been in absolute poverty, but they had something that is more important than what any rich person can buy: they had optimism.  More importantly, though many of them had never met before that night, they acted as a single family.  They all rejoiced in each others’ triumphs with smiles, laughter, and comments like, “I knew you could do it!  Didn’t I tell you it would happen?”  They also comforted one another in their grief with hugs, tears, and encouraging words such as, “Have faith.  It just takes time.”  It was truly spectacular.  Probably the most surprising fact of all was that they trust God even though they had nothing.  I know of wealthy people who have fallen away from the Lord in despair, yet they didn’t.  They used every trial as an opportunity to grow, learn, and share their faith.
I did not expect to enjoy myself when I arrived at Knoxville Area Rescue Mission.  However, the amazement I felt at the hope these women had shattered every preconceived notion I’d had of how my night would go.  I did not expect to spend the entire car ride home from Knoxville contemplating their unyielding faith and pondering how I could apply it to my life.  I did not expect to spend so much of that night praying for God to help each of these women and even the men that I did not get to know.  And least of all, I did not expect to spend even more time crying because I felt so blessed.  I thanked God for all He had given me: my home, my job, my family, and my friends.  But that night, I thanked Him for even more than that.  I thanked God for the lesson He had taught me through these incredible people.