11/20/13
For the first time in weeks, months? I wake up
without a sense of dread. Without that feeling in my stomach that in a moment,
due to a random circumstance, misunderstanding, annoyance, or deliberate
stratagem, or just plain evil, all could be gone and the story brought to an
end. Hard to accept. We will be here. We will be OK.
At my morning neighborhood Bible study, one of my
colleagues says, It was so wonderful, at the meeting, to see West-Park in all
of its quirky, beautiful, diversity. And I accept that. Because it’s true.
Cara and Stephen drop by to review last night. Stephen was responsible to make our presentation so I was worried when
he wasn’t arriving and the docket was advancing ahead of schedule. He and Cara
arrived just in the nick of time. My friend Mark, arriving from the United
Nations, seeing us outside said, So you’ve been put in timeout already? And we
laughed and went inside.
Nan, our bookkeeper, stops by to drop off a random
piece of meaningless mail that came to SPSA. What she really wants to know, and
is afraid to ask, because we’ve neglected to tell her and she thinks if it was
good news we would have told her what happened, is exactly that. What happened?
And so I tell her, We won. The vote was 59-16. We reversed it from a 38-35
September loss to a resounding win. And that is enough for her. Her usually
stoic face relaxes. And she smiles. Good, she says, good.
Carman Moore comes in. He and Lotte want to bring
their piece back only this time with
an emphasis on adult survivors of child
sexual abuse. And have an open discussion time, perhaps with social workers.
I’m aware that we can actually schedule events for next year. And I’m going to
accept that. It’s real now.
Lauren from Project Reachout arrives with Sean in
their van. They’ve got anther transitional housing placement for Sean. Who’s
been in and out of the hospital all week. Maybe this time it will work. She
gathers all his things except for one bag. I go out. He rolls down the window.
Shakes my hand. Says thanks. All the best, I say, all the best.
Katherine from Bread and Puppet comes in. I tell
her the news. She smiles. Hugs me.
Anna brings Keith in. I call my friends at Westside
Federation for Senior and Supportive Housing. Immediately, an alert social
worker picks up on some veterans’ angles that could help Keith out. He begins
to yes but me. And I tell him that is not acceptable. He’s got to make the
appointment, or I’m done. And we talk about his daughter. And how he can’t let
her see him like this. And I am losing patience. That’s about you, man, not
her. All she wants to do is to love you. Denying her that is about you, not a
kindness to her. Suck it up, let her love you, that’s what courage is, being a
man is, not some stupid pride thing. Don’t call that courage.
Another dance company comes in for a tour.
RL wants to know the results. Does he have to move
his stuff to 78 below? I tell him we’re OK.
David G. in to work out details for a December
concert. We can do that.
It’s a normal day. And that in itself is an amazing
miracle. It could have been different. Normal is a miracle. Well, maybe not
exactly.
It took hard work. It took covering all the bases.
Three different meetings/committees/councils to get through. Just to get back
on the docket. And then dealing with machinations and strategies of opponents.
Shocking surprise maneuvers. And lots of strategizing with cool headed people.
Old school organizing. Relationships.
Going to the meeting totally prepared. Ready for
any surprise. Issue introduced by two
separate committees, one re. viability, the other re. finance. Then our
presentation. Danielle’s video. Stephen’s power point. A dozen of our
congregation standing with us. And then the committees took over. It was them
defending their report, not with us defending our right to exist. And we had
passed out FAQ pages answering every question. I went to the meeting without
one more email to be written and sent and not one more phone call to make. And I
went onto the meeting knowing I had 50 votes, if all held.
And the proof of organizing well done? I never
spoke a word the whole meeting. Everyone else carried the fight. And we
controlled the debate. Everyone prepared. Still…those moments, waiting for the
vote to be counted…your life passes in front of you. And when the count is
announced, it feels like grace. And you just accept it.
Learnings:
1.
Do the work. Answer all the questions. Cover every
base.
2. Old
school organizing. Relationships. Phone calls. E-mails. And count the votes. My
mentor Philip taught me, the problem with
liberals is they don’t count the votes.
3.
Pray. And get all your friends to pray. And for
those who don’t pray, think good thoughts. Direct intentions. Meditate. And
pray some more.
4.
Don’t do number 3 until you’ve done 1 and 2.
Time to
tell RL the details.
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