This is what it's like to be a grown-up.

If you've got a few minutes to kill and want to read something fun, go check out the comment someone left me on the post entitled, "On a Lighter Note."

Wow.

But back to me. I get nervous about work, because I'm going to be leaving it so soon. And in a lot of ways, I'm not ready for it. I have spent the last few months realizing over and over how much I have grown here, in Chicago in general, with the Claretian volunteers in general, but with this job in the pantry in specific. There was a time, very recently, that I still felt like I was waiting to be an adult so that people would listen to me when I spoke. I don't feel that way anymore. Now, I speak. And people listen. And now that I'm here, I wonder if I grew into this because of my age, because of my accumlated experiences, or... I don't know, if I could have grown into this earlier if I had just been here or someplace like here sometime before. I don't suppose it matters in the end. What matters is how good I feel about it.

In a lot of ways, I've never really felt like I had a choice in the matter of who I was and who I was becoming. Certain choices were made for me because that's what happens when you're young... people lead you. Certain choices were made for me because I was too scared to do anything differently. I made a lot of choices out of anger, indignation, or a sense of injustice. I've followed spiritual paths and logical paths and ethical paths and moral paths and philosophic paths and... they've all basically led me in the same direction.

When I first met Michael, I was fascinated with many things about him. Still am, truth be told. He is probably the most interesting person I've met in my life, and he continues to interest me. He had a piece of paper pinned up on his bedroom wall that said "Chapel Perilous." I asked him what it meant, and he explained that it is the state of being when you learn something and are left with having to decide what to do next. It's the precipice you stand on, and you must decide if you should turn around and head back to what you know, and what is safe, or if you take the flying leap into the unknown. Maybe I shouldn't talk about this, because it occurs to me that I don't know the origin of the phrase. I do know that it specifically refers to the spiritual precipice, to deciding if you will walk the world in between. But I apply the phrase to most everything I do.

I'm thinking about it again right now because of a man that came into the pantry last week. His name isn't John Smith, but it might as well be as common as it is. John Smith is crazy, though he doesn't seem so at first. He's on disability, but his SSI was cut off recently because one of the offices told him he had a warrant out for his arrest. So he went to the police station, turned himself in. They said they didn't have anything on him. So he went back to the SSI office and explained this. They said, no, you have a warrant so you can't get your federal funds. And they say it could be mistaken identity, with a name like John Smith, but he has to get that in writing from the office that issued the warrant. That office, of course, says they don't have a warrant on him. And they're in Maryland. (And John Smith didn't know that was another state. When he first came in, he asked me if it was in Chicago, and if we could just go down there.)

And back and forth and back and forth, and meanwhile this guy is living on the streets because he couldn't pay his rent. And he's crazy. He came in and we talked for a bit and I quickly realized that he couldn't resolve this on his own. One, he gets confused about who he's talked to and what has been said. Two, he believes he is owned in a very real and literal way by Jesus and God and when things get even slightly complicated, he starts developing complex theories about how people are trying to destroy him but Jesus and God will come down and seek vengeance for him. Three, people are not comfortable talking to him, so they brush him off again and again. The people who *could* help him get his SSI back *will not* because they don't want to deal with a crazy person.

So I started helping him, walking him through the steps, talking for him to various officials and then explaining over and over and over again what was happening. And with me present, in the office with him, the people in the Social Security office stopped brushing him off. They were happy to help, but they didn't know how to help *him*. They knew how to help *me*, because I am not crazy. I do not yell sometimes or get confused with what's going on or try to explain that someone the Social Security Office in Milwaukee is in league with those who would work against God. They can help me.

The thing is, I don't really mind crazy people. Or homeless people. Or drug addicts. Or violent crimes offenders out on parole. I don't get uncomfortable working with poor people who deal with poverty issues every day. A lot of people that come from where I come from just can't do it. They feel uncomfortable and lost. They don't know what to say or where to look. Maybe they're scared. I don't know. But I don't have those problems. I can do this. Therefore I must. Because who else would?

Me? I couldn't work with little kids all the time. I like them enough, but they exhaust me. Let someone else do that. I couldn't work administration. I couldn't do fundraising. I mean, I could do these things, but I wouldn't like doing them, which means that I would become more and more ineffective with time. I'd rather work with crazy people. I know this is not common. Therefore I must. If you can do something that no one else will, you must do it.

I stepped out of Chapel Perilous when I embraced this idea. I no longer wonder if I should move forward, fully and officially, into this life that I lead. I am here. I don't worry about alienating the people I've always known and loved, because we will know and love each other even if we don't have the slightest idea what the other is talking about. I'm okay with being far outside the norm now. I feel comfortable in my skin, right where I am. I am no longer the type that can be intimidated by the idea of taking up the case of a crazy man that walks in my door, even if that case involves navigating systems I don't know anything about. And I look back and think how far I've come, how much I've grown. And I'm glad.