06. Flame

I was going to attempt to keep my writing challenge going while I was in Sydney but we were so busy and so tired by the end of the day that it just didn't happen. 

Now that I'm back, I still can't think of anything to write for the word flame. I mean, there's a variety of things I could come up with but I feel like they've all been said a thousand times before and I simply don't want to regurgitate other people's ideas. 

I thought that after witnessing the people at the homeless shelter and walking through the streets nearby it and participating in events and interacting with the residents that I would somehow come away from the trip with some kind of inspiration for writing, but I'm not sure if I have or not. 

All that keeps coming to mind every time I think of the word flame is the concept that sometimes we have to go through the flame to be changed, to learn, to grow. Sometimes that means going through extreme circumstances or seeing extreme things, and I feel like the homeless shelter delivered in that regard. 

The first night or two that we stayed in the shelter were slightly surreal in nature, I kept having moments of realisation when I'd think to myself 'oh my goodness, I'm in a homeless shelter'. While we were upstairs in our little flat it was almost easy to forget that just below us on the other five floors, there resided a whole different world of pain and hurt and brokenness and misunderstood people and dilated pupils and poisonous breath, whether from the alcohol, the poor dental hygiene or the smoking. 

Unfortunately, that's all that most people see when they look at homeless people. If some people are particularly kind-hearted they may focus on the pain, brokenness and hurt and comment on how horrible it is that those poor people are in that situation, but I think that unless you've come into contact with these people that it's hard to fully grasp their situation, or even grasp what they're like. I certainly simply focused on the pain and how terrible the situation is. 

After a few days of going to various activities with the residents and eating dinner with them and playing table tennis and pool with them I began to realise that these people that I'd been feeling terribly sorry for are actually people. As silly as that sentence sounds, I think I'd simply been viewing them as containers full of issues and pain and not looking past that to see them. They have personalities, likes and dislikes. That's something I that really hit me when I was serving dinner one night. Some people just wanted all of the options, while others didn't want a lot of food and some didn't want any vegetables at all, only meat and pizza! I'll admit, before going to the shelter I definitely had homeless people fitting into a nice, neat little stereotype in my head. I thought that all of the people who came to the window for dinner would want everything there was on offer. I thought that there would be ravenous people shovelling food into their mouths because they were starving. That wasn't the case at all, and to be honest I'm a little ashamed of the stereotype I had of homeless people. There were some who didn't seem to like beans, some who didn't like fish, some who didn't like fried food, some who didn't like healthy food, some who left half of their food and some who ate it all. There were older people, younger people, males, females, long hair, short hair, people of all different nationalities. Some were dressed well, some weren't. Some were clean, some weren't. Some wanted to talk, some didn't. Some were Christian, some weren't. Some were first time homeless people, some had been to the shelter many times before. Some did drugs, some drank, some didn't do any of those. Some had kids, some didn't. Most had mental illnesses though. 

I guess what I'm saying is, stereotypes are ridiculous. I used to be kind of scared of homeless people if I ever passed them on the street. I used to avert my eyes for fear they'd notice me and actually say something to me. 

I was thinking about the impact we might have had on the people in the shelter, how it might have helped them to have us there telling them how truly amazing they are and perhaps for some, saying the first words of encouragement they've ever really heard. I was thinking about how it must feel to have us come and accept them completely for who they were, no matter what issues they had, and it struck me that they had done the same for us in return. 

On one of the nights up there we all shared our testimonies and none of them judged us. Whenever we came up to them during the week and asked if they would play a game of pool or table tennis or cards with us, they were always willing. Sometimes, we didn't even need to ask, people would come up to us and want to play a game! I'm not at all saying that the situations they're in are good, but they have certainly learnt the art of acceptance a LOT more than most people. I felt truly grateful at how friendly most of the people were. These days it can be hard to find acceptance from people, regardless of your living situation or mental state, so I guess I was simply amazed to see such instant acceptance. 

This doesn't have a whole lot to do with the word flame, but I made it relate enough to not feel bad about the lack of flame related things.