Goodbye to Chicago

Four years.

It's amazing how much can change in four years. How much I have changed. But as I prepare to leave this place, I think back and it is obvious how much I have learned, and changed, and grown. And it is obvious that I will take these lessons--working with the poor, the ignored, the hated, the feared--and I will move forward in my life with this mission in my heart. I have learned kindness to those who are treated badly. I have learned love for those who do terrible things. I have learned to talk to those so often ignored. I have learned to speak for those who have no voice.

All of this is important. This is my mission. This is the calling I feel in my heart. This IS what brought me here, but over the years it has developed. And now I take my mission with me. I'm leaving the volunteer program. I'm leaving this parenthesis, this life within yet outside of American society, and I'm rejoining the world with a much better understanding of how it works for those who do not have power. I move back into the world of paying bills and working for money, and I'm nervous, but I'm content. I understand this life now, better than I ever have before. I understand the difference between necessity and luxury. I know people who have nothing. Nothing at all. I've had long, heartfelt talks with murderers. I have cried with mothers who have lost their children to violence. My friends have been shot, have been beaten, have been ignored on the streets while they cried out for help. They have starved, and they have hungered for attention in a way I never have. But I know the desperation that people feel, are bound by. It's not right, the cavalier way we treat those who are in need. Who could really blame them for the mistakes made in this life? Theirs is not the same as the life I've led.

Will you listen to me, because I am educated and white? Will you listen to me because I am attractive and well-spoken? Will you listen to me because I have seen things you will not see? Will you listen to me because I have walked down the streets you avoid, have spoken to the people you fear, have heard their stories and taken the time to understand their suffering? Will you listen to me and let me tell you all of these things I know? Will you hear their stories from my safe mouth? Will you let them affect you? And will you then go out and see for yourself?

I say goodbye to Chicago. I say goodbye to the Claretian Volunteers. I say goodbye to Holy Cross, to St. Paul, to Casa Catalina. I say goodbye to my gang-bangers, my immigrants, my at-risk youth, my homeless, my poor, my coworkers, my mentors, my friends. And as I say goodbye, I am sad. But I am filled with so much gratitude for these past four years. This has been a gift beyond anything I could have asked for. This time, these experiences, have been given to me by God, and I love them. I cherish them. I will never forget them. At times I feel cynical for this life we live. But far more often, I feel my heart grow and I learn to love the unloveable. I understand now what Dorothy Day was on about.

So thank you, thank you for this. Thank you Chicago. Thank you Claretians. Thank you Back of the Yards. Thank you.