The Road Goes Ever On The Road goes ever on and on Down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can, Pursuing it with eager feet, Until it joins some larger way Where many paths and errands meet, And whither then? I cannot say. J.R.R. Tolkien

One of the amazing things about life is that we never know how each day will unfold.  It is, in the truest sense of the word, a journey.  Every day something will happen.  Things we expect and things we don’t and that’s what makes it interesting.

Last Thursday I was sitting in the waiting room at my mechanic’s shop when my cell phone rang.  On the other end of the line was Stacy, the director of the homeless shelter.  Stacy doesn’t usually call me.  In fact, in the 6 plus months I’d been involved with them, I could probably count the times she’d called me on one hand, and I don’t have to use all my fingers.

“What’s up?” I asked her cautiously, sitting on the edge of the chair.

“I have to tell you about last night,” she started with a distinct air of excitement in her voice.

Each Wednesday and Thursday I lead a writing group at the shelter.  “Lead” is a bit misleading.  I set the stage, create the space, hold the door open and invite people in.

It is a bit like getting ready for a family vacation.  You load the car full of clothes, bikes and camping equipment, check the oil, the tires and the brakes, fill up the tank with gas and pack all the Goldfish and bottles of water you can manage to shove in the spaces in between the seats and then you pile everyone in and head out.  Perhaps you have a plan, an itinerary complete with AAA maps and Triptiks and stops circled in red magic marker.  Perhaps you don’t.  It doesn’t really matter.  What fills the postcards is what happens on the journey.

The writing group was a new idea, a gamble of sorts, and I didn’t know if it would work.  We were strangers.  They didn’t know me and I sure didn’t know them.  But smiles and positive intention go a long way and slowly, like the seedling that it was, it began to take root.

There were times I got discouraged.   Times I got worried.  But stubbornness is my middle name and so each week I would arrive with my bag full of enthusiasm and gently encourage anyone who would listen to get in the car and take the trip with me.  And surprisingly, they did.

We have now been at it for over six months.  Sometimes we are many, sometimes we are few.  But always we are there.   In that time, we have traveled down many roads.  Smooth asphalt roads traveled in a red convertible with the top down, The Eagles on the radio and the sun shining on our faces.  Journeys of joy and adventure and excitement.   Those are the easy ones.

There are roads filled with potholes with the rain pouring down and the darkness covering us like a blanket, making it difficult to see where we are headed.  They are real roads filled with fear and sadness and worry.  Roads once traveled alone.  Until they share their stories.

An amazing family therapist once said to me “Remember that people are bigger than their case histories.”  We must look beyond the labels we place on each other.  Her words reverberate in my brain each time I walk through the door to the shelter.

Stacy called to tell me about the shelter’s first “Peer Appreciation Night.”  It was the idea of one of the residents, one of my writing group guys, who thought it would be a great opportunity to create community and move beyond the labels, showcasing what is unique and creative and wonderful about each of them.  A night to remember that they are indeed “bigger than their case histories.”  A night to celebrate that they are musicians and dancers and poets and writers; people who also happen to be homeless.

Stacy’s voice was filled with emotion.  “Your guys read some of their stories,” she said, “They were truly amazing.”  The writing, they said, had changed their lives.  “You would have been so proud of them.”

I sat back in the chair.  Of course I was.  But more than that I continue to be grateful for their willingness to share the journey with me and I am excited to see where the road will lead next.