Sunday, September 28, 2014


I've been noticing myself feeling more angry and frustrated with our guests at Gubbio.  The more I get to know them, the more I talk to them, the more names I remember, and the more people remember me, the more angry I get.  Asking the same person everyday how their night was, or someone letting me know they'll see me next weekend, or remembering the last time I gave them a blanket, all makes me angry.

I wish I didn't make their days by giving them a blanket; or by seeing them get a new sweater; or by giving them a piece of candy; or by feeding them breakfast; it's not a good feeling.

Now, I not only see the face of the injustice I am working against, I know it.  It's hard to see my friends going through this everyday.  It's hard to understand why their lives seem to be on repeat every day and them being okay about it.  It's hard not to ask how long they can live in the way they are living now.  It's hard not to say that if getting a bottle of soda makes you so happy, imagine what it would be like to have a job and be able to get soda everyday.  It's hard seeing my friends on those pews all the time.  The more I care about them, the more angry I get.          

All this being said, I understand that the majority, if not all, of our guests are in the situation they are in because of social structures and injustices that put them there.  Also, I don't know what it feels like to be an addict of anything, but I think I can safely assume it is not something that can be easily overcome.  My anger isn't directed at our guests, my sentiment is.   

I love working at The Gubbio Project; but I wish it didn't have to exist.  

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