hope and faith.

I’m just going to cut to the chase and say it.

I’m pretty sure I’m losing my faith.

Not completely, but it’s diminishing faster than I think it ever has before. I'm not ashamed to say it, but this is really bizarre for me to write. I almost feel like I’m going to be condemned for writing it down (let alone posting it on a blog), yet I find it necessary if I want to get my faith back.

Every day, I deal with someone who is A) homeless or B) needs help with basic necessities. It’s come to the point in my work that even if I come home and feel I’ve separated my work and home life, I will end up thinking about my clients or residents. Hell, sometimes I can’t go to sleep because of them, or if I do, they’re in my dreams. It’s not that it’s getting too much to handle, I just find myself asking why. My previous questions seemed so easy to answer; now they seem to have no answer.

Why do we not have adequate housing for every one of my women to live in? Why can’t my clients have enough money to get food for their families? Why do my clients and residents have diseases or disabilities that require expensive medicines? Why the hell is the medicine so expensive? Why are there not enough jobs for these people to work? Why are these women so much stronger and trusting in God than me?

Working with 36 women at the shelter each day and at least 30 people/families at the crisis every other day, I do see the good. There are those people who are so grateful that I am able to help them or that they have a bed to sleep in. I do see that, I just don’t feel that the 1 out of 20 is good enough anymore.

I’ve had at least 10 women cry on me in the office and only one with tears of joy. Most of anyone who knows me knows that when I’m doing service I’m in my element. I’m naturally happy and always positive. This still holds true, and the woman who had tears of joy told me that I was the first person who she felt actually cared about her. I was on the verge of tears as she told me this, but lets be honest, I was more angry because that means that everyone before me was not caring, plus she almost got me to cry. Not cool.

At the house meetings each Monday night, the women at HW always bring their comments back to God: how they need to trust in God, how they know He doesn’t give them anything they can’t handle, how He has a plan for them.

I’m sorry, but why would God WANT someone to go through homelessness? To have a terminal disease. To be addicted to something. To have your family and friends walk out on you. Does my God really do that? I mean, the women still have faith, they still go to church every Sunday, they stay positive, they follow His teachings, and yet God hasn’t shown them any hope. Some have been homeless for so long yet still have hope. Some have been searching for a job for 8 months and say, “Watch I’m gonna get so many calls one week that I’ll have to pick the one I want!” How do they do it?

Hope has always been something I thought everyone should have. I think the world revolves around hope. Hell, I have hope tattooed on my back- and yet, I am somehow lacking it.

I just don’t see God putting anyone through this situation to teach them a lesson or for them to be more grateful of their lives. Seems like a pretty cruel God if you ask me. And I haven’t even begun talking about poverty ratings across the world, genocide, human trafficking, the HIV/AIDS epidemic, you name it. I’m not saying I think the world is supposed to be perfect; I don’t expect that, but seriously, there is SO much suffering.

When I’ve gone on retreats or Alternative Breaks I don’t usually come home with questions of why there is suffering in the world. I focus more micro than macro. I suppose it’s because now I see this every day, and not just in a week and forget about it ever so slightly. I suppose it’s because I really do care for my residents and clients to the point that I dislike the person who fired them, who didn’t hire them, who evicted them, who hurt them, who isn’t paying the child support, who doesn’t say hi to them on the street, who doesn’t smile at them, the government.

I am in no way saying that I do not have hope for my residents or clients. I absolutely hope for change for the women and families I work with and in a way am grieving for (or with) them. I am trying to stay optimistic yet I am seeing the realities and feel like I am quickly becoming pessimistic. How am I supposed to trust and have faith in a God who’s world has so much pain and suffering?

I love my job and know I'm meant to do it, but how do actually let go and let God? Because I honestly don’t get it.