Grateful: Day 73 - Humbled

Today, I am humbled, exhausted, moved and blessed. I absolutely love working for Crisis at Christmas. It's an honour and a very nice thing to do. Not nice like 'aren't we all nice for doing it' nice. It's really good fun, engaging, and all of the things above... humbling, exhausting, moving and full of blessings.

First things first. So. Much. Exercise. And yet the kind of tired I am isn't the physically wiped kind. But tired just the same. First, a cycle to the centre. Not really very far. A measly 20 minutes. This morning, I was allocated to sports. Badminton, table tennis, football... fuck yeah!

None of the guests (Crisis terminology for the people visiting who are homeless and coming to use the facilities, rather than to volunteer) had arrived, so I played badminton with another volunteer. In jeans, fur-lined boots and two layers, me. Oh, and then people arrived. The idea is to get people involved, so we did. One guy needed no encouragement. He was sparkly-eyed and ready to play, a whizz with a badminton racket and a bit of a hustler. Singles became doubles and swapping out to engage anyone who walked in through the door.

Smashes (don't you LOVE to smash? I do) and little tickle shots that lift it just over the net. Great big fathomy shots that send the shuttle right up to the roof. It has been noticed, by me and others, that I celebrate a failure with as much gusto and glee as a success. Well, almost. Just as regularly, though. I love that game.

A very withdrawn bloke who hardly spoke and just wanted to kick a ball around refused to play badminton. On his second or third visit, he agreed to kick with a very pretty young volunteer who's still at school and later, though he'd never played before, he picked up a racket and joined in the badminton. A lovely young man played too. He laughed a lot. One very directive, very grumpy man joined in and shouted people down for a while, but everyone kind of pulled together. My mini-goal was to make the fucker laugh, despite his need to make everything perfect-right and control the whole shebang. Little bit. Not the whole hog, but flashes.

Meanwhile there was table tennis going on and a healthy rivalry was burgeoning between me and the badminton ninja. I can play badminton and I love it, though my back doesn't like it much when I play a lot. After a singles match with him (in which he thrashed me), we sa

t down for a break and he told me more about his story.

I don't feel right going into all the detail. I feel it wouldn't be quite honourable, but it involved very recent bereavement of his partner, deeply loved and known since childhood, sleeping rough, violence on the streets and prospects, values, hope, grief, choices. He still had the sparkle, energy and light in his eyes. At a certain moment, we played again. He thrashed me hollow this time, but seemed happy.

When he visited me at the end of the creative writing workshop this afternoon, that light wasn't even half. His eyes were swollen from crying and his focus was deep within even during eye contact sometimes. He was still polite, funny, friendly, but so sad. We talked some more. Again, really no more detail, but there were times when, though I could stay with him, I couldn't stop my throat from aching and my eyes from becoming glassy with emotion.

He had control, in many ways. He was making choices. He was deciding things for the best. And it wasn't pity I felt. Just sorrow and emotion for such deep grief and loss, for so

meone fighting, coping, fighting, getting through. Wishing I could make more changes happen for him, make things happen, and knowing that all I could do was listen then and be there. Now I'm here, warm and safe at home (not my home, maybe, but the home of beloved Ruth - thank you) and he is sleeping in a place that he has found that he hopes is safe from attack.

He has hardly any money and no benefits, and yet the man bought me chocolates to say thank you. It hurt to be taking a proportion of his meagre money from him by accepting but saying no was never, never, never an option. Just a big yes and thank you and a genuine feeling of thanks.

And the thing I want to say is that we are all the same. Yes, a lot of homeless people have mental health problems, learning difficulties, other issues, and so many have just very bad luck, or difficult situations. They are people with lives and pasts and values that I hardly ever take the time to find out. For every visible homeless person there are so many more walking around. Someone sitting on a bench with a small backpack, wandering around Primark, shopping in a supermarket chain... they are you and me. In the situation some people are in, many of us would break mentally and physically, our feelings of self-worth draining into the pavement as we walk (even if not sleeping rough). Humbled isn't big enough a word. Levelled. Haunted.

And that's not all, of course. Today I laughed with any number of people. Saw an ex boyfriend (who I'd recently been thinking about, actually - 11 years younger than me, boyish at the time, very probably not really interested in women, certainly not in me), did creative writing (three people came back, another two joined... we had a very lovely time and yes, more laughing). Made tea for other volunteers. Ate simple sandwiches - white bread, butter, ham... delicious. I talked to so many people. Smiled at so many more.

A person I know who hates how much it pleases me to be useful and to help would have

had a field day of irritation. I was in my element - talking shit to strangers, getting stuff for them, sorting things out, being helpful. Yes, being really, really useful. I am so grateful to have been able to do that, to fill my greedy boots with busybodying and to feel good at then end of that day.

Back to the exercise... 2 and a half hours, I played, with a break of about 20 minutes. And then the cycle home, over an hour, covered in luggage and a lot of it uphill. I stink. I won't hold back. I smell like a school changing room. I'm disgusting. I truly do disgust myself. Hooray! I'm off to bed to sit there, warm and smelly. I can't wait.