Sunday, March 16, 2008
It was disheartening a couple months ago when we were broken into at Bad Dog, but we injected humour into the day. We found out later that following morning that the only suspect was a woman we had been serving as part of the Red Card program, whereby people could purchase meal vouchers at a minimal price, and we provide the food for less than full retail price. She was outside the restaurant at 4:30am, when Lori arrived, telling Lori that she saw who did it and had given the police her statement. Little did we know at that time, that it was her who did it.
One of the conditions of the woman's release was that she couldn't come within a certain distance of our restaurant. It seems appropriate, and for the most part she has complied. I think I have seen her dart in once or twice to say hi to someone within, but maybe that's a woman who looks like her (or maybe it is her).
This woman cost us some momentum, some sleep, some belief that the people who we serve in the Red Card program are decent people down on their luck. Plus, it cost $700 to replace the window, and the floor and a table still bear some gouges from the falling glass. I'm not at the restaurant every day serving, so for those who are it probably "sticks in their craw" more than me. I didn't have any relationship or conversation with this woman before or after the incident.
I have seen her in the street. I walk by, and on occasion have thought to speak to her about the situation and remind her not to mess with us again. That's the fighter Annette, the one that is usually only an inside voice, but sometimes does come out. I want to protect my stuff and my friends that work at the Dog. Plus, sometimes I get afraid.
But I don't confront and I don't say anything and I don't look at her for long. I wonder what kind of grace I should bestow to her, an addict who steals and hooks for her fix. I wonder what kind of grace Jesus wants me to bestow. Surely just enough not to be mean, but not too much that I invite her in again. That's where I settle, because that's the best I can come up with. Is it because that's what Jesus is saying to me, as far as I will listen, or because I'm too passive aggressive to really do anything either way?
I have thought of something to say to a person who I have perceived to be a threat to me and those around me, from whom I have felt betrayal and lies, and have been surprised with the heartbeat and heat in my chest as the words have leapt almost uncontrollably into my head. Fighter Annette. I don't like those thoughts. Yet, when I face the person, those words and sentiments don't come out. I say a quiet hello, and wonder what Jesus would expect of me. Sometimes I feel dishonest that I don't portray the real thoughts and feelings, and wonder if I'm being passive aggressive again. Is that what it is, or is it that I keep telling myself that there is a story behind everyone, even if it is a twisted story? Am I chicken, or am I extending ... grace? Sometimes how do I really know where each line blurs into the other?
Last week I heard a song I hadn't listened to for a while. It strikes me in my sinner's heart when I hear it, and I am thankful that Jesus has given me that which I must be prodded to give others. I've blogged the lyrics before, but I like them alot.
Grace
She takes the blame
She covers the shame
Removes the stain
It could be her name
Grace
It's a name for a girl
It's also a thought that
Changed the world
And when she walks on the street
You can hear the strings
Grace finds goodness
In everything
Grace
She's got the walk
Not on a ramp or on chalk
She's got the time to talk
She travels outside
Of karma, karma
She travels outside
Of karma
When she goes to work
You can hear the strings
Grace finds beauty
In everything
Grace
She carries a world on her hips
No champagne flute for her lips
No twirls or skips
Between her fingertips
She carries a pearl
In perfect condition
What once was hurt
What once was friction
What left a mark
No longer stings
Because grace makes beauty
Out of ugly things
Grace finds beauty
In everything
Grace finds goodness
In everything
I have so far to go.
One of the conditions of the woman's release was that she couldn't come within a certain distance of our restaurant. It seems appropriate, and for the most part she has complied. I think I have seen her dart in once or twice to say hi to someone within, but maybe that's a woman who looks like her (or maybe it is her).
This woman cost us some momentum, some sleep, some belief that the people who we serve in the Red Card program are decent people down on their luck. Plus, it cost $700 to replace the window, and the floor and a table still bear some gouges from the falling glass. I'm not at the restaurant every day serving, so for those who are it probably "sticks in their craw" more than me. I didn't have any relationship or conversation with this woman before or after the incident.
I have seen her in the street. I walk by, and on occasion have thought to speak to her about the situation and remind her not to mess with us again. That's the fighter Annette, the one that is usually only an inside voice, but sometimes does come out. I want to protect my stuff and my friends that work at the Dog. Plus, sometimes I get afraid.
But I don't confront and I don't say anything and I don't look at her for long. I wonder what kind of grace I should bestow to her, an addict who steals and hooks for her fix. I wonder what kind of grace Jesus wants me to bestow. Surely just enough not to be mean, but not too much that I invite her in again. That's where I settle, because that's the best I can come up with. Is it because that's what Jesus is saying to me, as far as I will listen, or because I'm too passive aggressive to really do anything either way?
I have thought of something to say to a person who I have perceived to be a threat to me and those around me, from whom I have felt betrayal and lies, and have been surprised with the heartbeat and heat in my chest as the words have leapt almost uncontrollably into my head. Fighter Annette. I don't like those thoughts. Yet, when I face the person, those words and sentiments don't come out. I say a quiet hello, and wonder what Jesus would expect of me. Sometimes I feel dishonest that I don't portray the real thoughts and feelings, and wonder if I'm being passive aggressive again. Is that what it is, or is it that I keep telling myself that there is a story behind everyone, even if it is a twisted story? Am I chicken, or am I extending ... grace? Sometimes how do I really know where each line blurs into the other?
Last week I heard a song I hadn't listened to for a while. It strikes me in my sinner's heart when I hear it, and I am thankful that Jesus has given me that which I must be prodded to give others. I've blogged the lyrics before, but I like them alot.
Grace
She takes the blame
She covers the shame
Removes the stain
It could be her name
Grace
It's a name for a girl
It's also a thought that
Changed the world
And when she walks on the street
You can hear the strings
Grace finds goodness
In everything
Grace
She's got the walk
Not on a ramp or on chalk
She's got the time to talk
She travels outside
Of karma, karma
She travels outside
Of karma
When she goes to work
You can hear the strings
Grace finds beauty
In everything
Grace
She carries a world on her hips
No champagne flute for her lips
No twirls or skips
Between her fingertips
She carries a pearl
In perfect condition
What once was hurt
What once was friction
What left a mark
No longer stings
Because grace makes beauty
Out of ugly things
Grace finds beauty
In everything
Grace finds goodness
In everything
I have so far to go.
Labels: grace
// posted by Annette @ 11:26 p.m. 
