A Speedboat Among Oil Tankers

The following excerpt is from an email I received from our mother/sister/brother (we have an odd sort of family, don't judge us) church, HomePDX. Some details have been deliberately obscured to protect the innocent and gulity.

THE KID

I just got back from helping buy a bus ticket for a young friend who lives outdoors in downtown Portland. When originally asked, I couldn't put a face to the name (Jeremiah, I think). We didn't have any extra money at the time but I said we'd help. I was to meet him at the Greyhound station along with a representative of a HUGE nonprofit.

When I arrived I recognized him immediately. He leaped to his feet and threw his arms around me, words and gratitude spilling out in a torrent, half to me, half in explanation to the now puzzled representative of the non-profit, "You are the best people in downtown. You have the best food and kindest people. You always make us feel welcome. You respect us. I love the Wiffleball! I'll never forget you. One day I'll come here and give back alongside you guys." (Expletives deleted)

What's so amazing about us? Nothing, really. We give our best to our friends, with a smile and kind conversation. (It turns to trash talk, however, during the Wiffleball season. The US Gutter Punk Wiffleball League requires that. Page 88 in the Official USGPWL Manual, I think). WE don't see what we do as anything great. Mostly nothing special. That's why we're legends in downtown Portland.

I found it curious that while the multimillion-dollar operation paid $60, HOME came up with $180. The representative said that's all the non-profit could "allot for this purpose." He's a fantastic guy, and amazingly caring. He would have paid it all out of his own pocket if he had the money.Big organizations have "allotments" and "purposes". I guess they have to. We at HOME have friends, most of whom live outdoors year around. Jeremiah was in a tough spot (a job and pregnant fiancé in Wisconsin with no way to get there). We had two hundred bucks in the bank and a friend with a need.

We're a speedboat among oil tankers.

It's so fun.


This note reminds me of why I love Ken Loyd (the author of the note). His knack for amazing metaphors never ceases to amaze me. "We're a speedboat among oil tankers." As someone who has spent some time aboard large ships and traveled in and out of many ports around the world, the image is particularly rich and visual. I think it perfectly explains that awkward but necessary relationship all of us have to social service organizations.

I'm not here to disparage social services or the people who work for them. The safety net that they provide keeps many people alive, and for that I am thankful. But I also can see that the social service system itself is dangerously self-perpetuating. If social services do their job too well, then they wouldn't have anyone left to help. And any organization that is designed to act against its own self-interest will likely run into problems in the long run. It is here that the "gap" is created that the church must step in to fill. We can go beyond the big organizations, because we can focus on relationship in the way they can't. Our size is our advantage -- it's like guerilla warfare. We can get in and out quickly, and stay mobile.

Of course, I am glad that there are trustworthy non-profs that I can refer my friends to when they need help. I am not a substance abuse counselor, a job counselor, or a doctor. But I can be a friend. In my experience, it seems that we and the social services tend to envy each other: we want some of their resources, and they want some of our freedom. In the end, I think that both are necessary. But I'm happy that I get to be one of the ones on the speedboat.