Thrive Life Coaching

I spent my Saturday here writing and collecting thoughts for a presentation/talk I’m putting together for Alfred State college students about s*xual assault, abusive relationships, and s*x trafficking in our area. This greenhouse cafe employees women in recovery: recovery from all sorts of things including what I’m researching and writing about. I have been given more opportunities to do things that scare me to death, and being on the board for Brightstar Community and giving this talk to a large group of college students are just a couple. I’m glad I chose this place today to do this work which is hard for me. I get stuck every 10 minutes, and doubt the direction I’m taking. I feel so incredibly inadequate, and terrified to not provide the kind of talk that moves people to heal or to take action or to inspire change. But that is not my job. My job is to be faithful with the things God is bringing me to, and to do the best that I can by stewarding my time and relationships. And then I remember a year ago, 3 years ago, and 9 years ago. 9 years ago, I first heard what human trafficking was and that it exists in “our own backyards.” 3 years ago, one of my sweet friend’s was r***d. One year ago, I was praying for God to give me favor to start working in this arena, and being a safe person for victims of trafficking. These are the things that make me angry. When someone uses another person. When someone strips away someone’s value as a human being and makes them a s*x object. This is what makes me angry. And usually when you have an anger towards injustice you see, it is worth looking at (as painful as it is) to do something in your corner of the world. So with that... I keep struggling through these concepts and facts and stories, so that I can help others discover the injustice that is around them and in their own lives. This work matters. The work that you do in your little corner of the world matters. The way you treat people, look at people, talk about people...matters.

Last night as we ended date night sitting on a bench, we made a new friend: Todd. He was riding his bike, and as we made eye contact and we waved to him as he passed by...he stopped his bike and asked if he could do a poem for us. He said that his therapist says this is his gift that is meant to be given away to others. He began talking about his PTSD from the war, the holes in his body from his opioid addiction, the hope he feels for his life, and as he talked...I couldn’t help but keep asking him questions about his life, and what he is doing now. Todd was homeless, but one of the most grateful people I have met. He exuded it. Todd was smart...he had a beautiful way of connecting with people, and knew how to build buildings and train others to do so. He took out a card in his wallet and said “someone blessed me with this Uber card, but I don’t use Uber so you can take it!” He asked us to look him up on Facebook and showed us figurines he carved using a pencil and a match out of soap and wax. After half an hour, I was blown away that this random encounter we were not looking for — just came. I remember back to my time in NYC for a summer where we would bring sandwiches to people who were homeless week after week and remember their faces still. I remember how one man named Joe told me “people treat me as if I don’t exist...they don’t make eye contact with me...hours will pass before one person on a busy street makes direct eye contact with me and just smiles.” That has always stuck with me. Because even if I am not giving money out, I can still make eye contact and smile. People are people, no matter who they are. I am grateful for Todd and what he gave Paul and I last night.