This is my May Congregationalist article.
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Last week at work we had two days that were just brutal. On Wednesday, it seemed as though everything that could have gone wrong went wrong-- not only did we see over 100 youth but we were severely understaffed. Then on top of what was already a stressful day, several youth came in due to various housing and personal crises and a few youth with psychosis and manic disorders had breakdowns. Then, to finish off the week, on Friday a young female client attempted suicide by sitting on the freeway on-ramp after we closed. (Fortunately, she failed to do so because our response and that of the police was immediate.) As you can imagine, it left me with a heavy heart the rest of the day. It was impossible to focus and hard to bear.
In order to take care of myself Wednesday night I cancelled all of my plans and slept from 9pm to 7am-- arguably the longest night of sleep on a week night this year. Friday called for a different kind of self-care, though. I needed to escape. I needed to remind myself that there was something bigger than death, because the story of near-death was just too big to handle that day. Two of my roommates and I went up to the observatory which is in north Los Angeles on the top of a mountain. As we approached the building, we felt wind... wind so strong that it moved me. (No, really. I had a hard time standing.) It wasn't the only thing that moved me, though. We stood at the edge of the building and looked over the city. We saw orange, red, white, yellow, blue lights. We saw cars moving up and down the streets. We saw Dodger stadium alive. We saw Hollywood buzzing with activity. We saw where the horizon meets the ocean. It was incredible. I said to my roommates, "I think this must be what it feels like to be God." I can imagine my clients roaming around Hollywood Blvd doing drugs and sleeping on the streets... I can imagine all the different people working and having fun... I can imagine the unique-- both good and bad-- stories of the 4 million people that coexist there at the base of the mountain. There was so much going on in LA, it became overwhelming to think about. So that's when I looked up to see the stars and the moon and the dark night sky. Instead of being overwhelmed with the city, I became overwhelmed with God.
In those couple of hours at the observatory I was reminded that it was a good thing Jesus conquered death the following week. This was the first Easter that REALLY mattered, in that sense. This is the first time that it actually meant new life and resurrection for me, on behalf of my clients who are still waiting for the stone to be rolled away. I have Good News to bring to the homeless youth of Los Angeles: Death will not have the last word. Jesus is alive. Christ has risen, indeed. Hallelujah!
