A Dark And Quiet Room

“Here I am, and here I will remain.”–Duke Leto, Dune

Given that there was apparently some confusion about the Chandler quote that I posted below, I thought that I’d elaborate a bit.

First, for clarity’s sake: no, I’m not changing my mind about living on Orange Street.

Rather, here’s what is going on.

For any of this to matter, in order for us to make any sort of difference at all here on Orange Street in Renaissance Park in Peoria, we must first love where we are. We must love the city, reaching out to embrace it. This is no easy matter. As I commented to a friend recently, “Loving people is dangerous.” When we embrace the city, we are embracing everything that was described in that quote.

A dog is currently boarding with us. Eventually we will find her a permanent home, but for now she’s living with us. In the meantime, we’ve named her Kitty, because we are twisted people. She was discovered as a stray in a nearby alley. We honestly have no idea where she came from. However, it seems quite likely that she came from an abusive home. She is very jumpy. She is scared of being called. If she actually obeys a summons, she slinks up to you and then demonstrates her complete and utter submission by urinating on the floor. It’s a dog thing, I guess. Of course, this doesn’t actually help our relationship, as I’d rather that she were a little uppity and didn’t urinate on the floor.

Recently, as I was cleaning up after one of these episodes, it occurred to me that this was what the rest of my life was going to be. My home is going to be a haven for the beaten and abused. But, when they come in, they are bringing all their baggage with them. Doubtless, like Kitty, they will pee on my floor, or do things that will essentially have the same effect of disturbing the peace and happiness of my home. Will yelling at them make it any better? I think not. Instead, they will need loving patience from me and mine.

I carry the pain of those around me; it’s why I wear black. But some days I feel the burden more than others. So I want others to join with us, to bear this load together. But I do not want to romanticize what we are doing here. The pain is real. The hurt is real. The danger is real.

The need is real.

Hold us up in your prayers, brethren, and consider what you ought to do.