Tents and Time and Noise and Hope

I spent the weekend with Boyfriend and his family. They are simply the best people I know. The more and more time I spend with them, the more I see an outward, unmistakable Love that wins. 


Our church spent Saturday mid-morning and afternoon in Hopeville, a homeless city just across the Mississippi River. And by "city," I mean about a 50-tent cluster on the riverfront, just north of the Arch. 


Spending time with these people has been more rewarding than I can say. It's the little things, like knowing that I have a bed to go to, a place where I can warm my frozen toes, a car to drive me where I need to go, a family to fall back on, monetary birthday presents that buy me canvases to paint on... you know, those things I have-- those things they don't. I sloshed through the muddy terrain, handing out the supplies I could carry (gloves, scarves, cookies, hot dogs), all the while remembering the disconcerting wisdom Boyfriend gave me:
That homeless man is me if I were born in different circumstances.


They are people. And people matter, no matter their background, circumstance, age, color, addiction, education, or work ethic. They are children, mothers, brothers, uncles, and grandmas. One of the most important realizations I've been given in the past 6 months is how God feels about us. His eyes see me, the 21-year-old brunette college student, and Colombus, the 50-something year-old homeless man, exactly the same. The point is not that these homeless families have done nothing wrong or are exclusively victims. The point is that I, Kelly Rae Caringer, have no occasion to judge or assume anything about their lives. So, rather than stand far off, questioning why or how they got to be homeless (which does absolutely nothing), I meet them where they're at-- whether that means food, money, water, blankets, coats, batteries, candles, a hug, a conversation, or a good laugh.

 Hopeville. (Google.com)

I heard a spokesperson for Compassion International tell a story at a Shane&Shane concert in 2009. During and post-WW2, a church in Poland hired musicians to play loud music every Sunday morning so they wouldn't be able to hear noise from the outside. Established next to a train station, the church had heard the screams and groans of prisoners being shipped to the nearby concentration camp. So, they turned up the music. Ignorance was better than the guilt they felt. They turned a blind eye (and ear) to the most urgent and tangible need within their reach. 


In response to this story, and other stories of the forgotten hopeless, Shane&Shane titled their tour, and newest album and song "Turn Down the Music." 
Some of their lyrics:


    If you were hungry would we give you food?
    If you were thirsty would we give you drink?
    If you were a stranger would we let you in?

    And if you were naked, would we give you clothes?
    If you were an orphan would we give our home?
    And if you were in prison, would we visit you?

    What would be a song we’d sing to you when there in need?
    Would it be an empty hallelujah to the king?

    Turn down the music
    Turn down the noise
    Turn up your voice oh God and let us hear the sound
    Of people broken, willing to love
    Give us your heart oh God a new song rise in us

Ignorance is no longer an excuse for me. I have seen, smelled, and talked to those in need. And although I am unsure how to make a lasting difference, I simply must go. I must help. The Redeemer gives hope to the hopeless; He makes a lasting difference. But the extraordinary work of the Giver of Life is not always what I see. He works mysteriously, supernaturally, or unexplainably (and sometimes, tangibly or visibly). My job is not to see or know that I made a difference. My job is to go when He says.


I heard a resounding "God is good" coming from the mouths of the hungry and destitute on Saturday morning- more than I think I've heard all year. And certainly more than I've heard it from my own mouth. There is hope. I believe God is who He says He is, and I believe that there is hope.


Light a fire in this soul of mine. 

I woke up today, and I was Home

They say smell is the most powerful trigger for memory. You know, like how your house has that specific aroma, or the scent of mistletoe at Christmas time. As fabricated as it may sound, Minnesota has one of those smells. I stepped out of the car last night after 10 hours of driving, and as my roommate Jane would say, "It's like Christmas in my nose!" 


My family and I started coming to Minnesota the week after Christmas when I was 8. The first year we came to visit good family friends, the Berkleys (less formally refered to as "the Berks"), I told my parents that I was going to live here someday. Of course, they laughed at my tiny 8-year-old self, and gave me that condescending "Ok, Kelly" response. Although I think my parents the wisest, kindest, and smartest parents on the planet... they were completely wrong. After 10 years of only winterly visits, I made the move my freshman year of college. Sadly, my college getaway lasted only one year- it turns out I love my mom way more than I thought, and the academia of community college was a bit lacking for me. I moved from my favorite, beautiful, northern metropolis to quaint, country, podunk Greenville. Have you ever experienced culture shock?


Although Greenville College has brought wonderful experiences that I would not take back, exchange, or change for anything- I miss my beautiful Minnesota. After living in the north, I gained an accent with no intention of losing it, became a serious coffee snob without apologies, and adore cold weather and abhor midwest humidity. 


People consistently ask me why I love Minnesota so much... and I wish I could give them an answer. It's the trees, the landscape, the lakes, the people, the snow, the liscense plates, the food, the coffee, the cold... It's everything. Everything is better here. Ok, so to be a bit more tangible, I'll make a Top Ten List. 


Top Ten Reasons Why Minnesota (specifically Minneapolis area) is Better
1. Coffee (Caribou Coffee and Dunn Bros.) 
2. Kelly Berkley's French Dips
3. Weather (super snowy winter, not deathly humid summer)
4. Original Pancake House
5. 24-Hour Cub Foods
6. Eden Prairie Brunswick Thursday Night $1 Bowling
7. Lakes (the beauty)
8. Targets (all have Starbucks inside, carrying baskets are nicer)
9. People (classy, quaint, nice, home-y, northern-y)
10. Broomball in the winter


Should I counteract those nice things with the single most frustrating element of Minneapolis? I'll just briefly mention... the ASANINE stoplights on the on-ramps to highways. LEARN TO MERGE, MINNESOTANS. Geesh. 


It's taken me this whole day to write this post. That's ok- it's been quite an eventful day. 
7am: OPH (Original Pancake House) 
10am: Coffee at Caribou.
12pm: Left-over French Dips. 
1:45pm: Head to MOA and IKEA to shop. 
2:00pm: Stuck in traffic trying to get to the ramp taking you to the ramp that leads to the road where there's a stoplight to take you to one of the parking garages for the Mall. 
2:30pm: Give up. 
3pm: Visit Scrapbooks Too where I used to work. Buy unnecessary amount of paper. 
4pm: Back to IKEA. 
5pm: Rojo for dinner. Taste most delicious appetizer I'll ever eat. 
8pm: Visit old roommates and roommates' parents. 
10pm: Drive home and almost die because in the two hours that I visited, the roads had completely iced over. Almost hit a telephone pole making the left onto Scenic Heights, but that was all after I stopped on the side of the road to make sure the lady was okay whose car was inches from plunging down a hill into a lake. No biggie. 


Overall, a pretty uneventful day in Minnesota. 


All to say- I love it here. More than all those the fun things I do or things I hear, smell, taste, or see, I love the time I spend with my friends. I could sit and talk to my namesake, Kelly Berkley, all day everyday forever. I know the greatest people- and most of them live here.


I might get iced in tomorrow when I need to be leaving for Illinois... Alas, I will continue to visit much too often. I'll always remember the smells of my old apartment, the sounds of the Berkley's coffee maker in the morning, the beautiful landscape of snow-covered pines and icy lakes, and the numbing cold of November's wind in the city. It's just home, that's all. 

This is my blog.

Hello, I'm writing a blog. 
I'm not really sure why I'm starting this. I did vow that if I wrote in a blog, I would call my boyfriend "Boyfriend." There's some real funny chick that has a blog that uses that same idea. I stole that idea. Is anything ever truly original these days?
So, Boyfriend has a blog. It seems fun. Here we go. 


The sparatic ramblings of a simple chick.