Isaiah 58

I've been meditating on these verses for quite some time now.  I can't help but think this is what God is still saying to His people.

Shout it aloud, do not hold back.  Raise your voice like a trumpet.

Declare to my people their rebellion and the the house of Jacob their sins.

For day after day they seek me out; they seem eager to know my ways, as if they were a nation that does what is right and has not forsaken the commands of its God.

They ask me for just decisions and seem eager for God to come near them.

"Why have we fasted," they say, "and you have not seen it?  Why have we humbled ourselves and you have not noticed?" 

(can't you just hear the whining?)

Yet on the day of your fasting, you do as you please and exploit all your workers.

Your fasting ends in quarreling and strife, and in striking each other with wicked fists.

You cannot fast as you do today and expect your voice to be heard on high.

Is this the kind of fast I have chosen, only a day for a man to humble himself?

Is it only for bowing one's head like a reed and for lying on sackcloth and ashes?

Is that what you call a fast, a day acceptable to the Lord?

(you tell them, God!  And...err....me...)

Is not THIS the kind of fasting I have chosen:

to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke,

to set the oppressed free and break every yoke?

Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter--

when you see the naked, to clothe him, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?

Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will quickly appear;

then your righteousness will go before you,

and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.

Then you will call, and the Lord will answer; you will cry for help and he will say: Here am I.

If you do away with the yoke of oppression,

with the pointing finger and malicious talk,

and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,

then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday.

The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land

and will strengthen your frame.

You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail.

-Isaiah 58:1-11

The man

I don't actually know his name.

Though he greets me nearly every morning by name, I'm ashamed to say that I can't remember his.  But I know exactly who he is.  He is the man that every morning- or nearly so- is out front watering, cleaning or doing something outside the building.  He's a resident at Breakthrough, and he treats it as his home, always washing a window or floor.

I don't know his story, either.  I suspect it is similar to the stories of the other men and women that come through our doors.  It's a story in which he is the victim, the perpetrator and every other role in between (just as I have been in my life).  Perhaps he has broken relationships, perhaps he never finished high school- no one else in his family has- perhaps he used to have a steady job before the plant/office/company down-sized.  Or maybe he's floated in and out of different jobs for all of his adult life for a variety of reasons.  He has been wronged by a system that makes him a piece of paper or a number or one left behind, where it is nearly impossible for "someone like him" to succeed.  And frankly, I imagine that sometimes he's tired of trying.  I would be, too, if I had experienced all that he has.

I wish- how I wish!- I could just categorize him in that big lump of "lazy" and blame him for not having a job, or a place of his own or a steady income.  I'm sure that is true of at least some percentage of the urban poor I see on a daily basis.  But God, how I wish it were that simple!  I know that's not the answer, though- it's too simple. Instead, I know that it is "simple" things like supply and demand, bad policies and- yes- evil hearts, that have kept him from getting a job.

The thing is, even if it were that simple- if he was just lazy or an addict or whatever- there would still be more expected of me and my response to him.  I couldn't just tell him to go get a job, even if that were the only problem.  I couldn't just write him off, without a second thought, an invitation in or a crumb (Isaiah 58:7-9).  I couldn't just wish him well and send him on his way, without clothes, without food and without sustenance (James 2:14-17).

I couldn't.  WE can't.

This is not a discussion about policies- though that conversation most definitely needs to be had.  It's not even about who's to blame- though I promise you there is plenty to spread around.

It's about a Man.  A Man who calls me to service outside of myself, my concerns and my needs.  A Man who, for MY sake, became poor (2 Cor. 8:9).  A Man who reminds me that He is happy when I am doing justice to my fellow man and loving mercy (Micah 6:8)- not because it makes me feel good inside, but because in being made like Him, it is in part what I was made for.  It's about a Man who "had compassion" (over and over and over again throughout the Gospels).  On the poor, the orphaned, the widowed.  And on me.

A Man who- because of His life- changed the way that I am to live mine: in service to Him by serving others.  And that is what has made all the difference.

Finally, a "Garden"

There are some real benefits to living in an apartment.

Granted, I can't actually think of them right now, but I'm sure there are some.  Low maintenance costs, maybe?

Unfortunately, outdoor living space is not one of them.  And as much as I've talked about how I would love a garden, our small third floor walk up doesn't really work for a green thumb.

Until now.

These herbs, courtesy of my cousin Allie's wedding (sidenote: herbs make a beautiful centerpiece for reception tables!!) are sitting pretty on the ledge outside our living room window.  Just last night, I cut off two cups worth of basil to make a beautiful pesto and I'm trying to figure out what fun things to do with chocolate mint (it really smells like chocolate!)

It might not be the fresh vegetables I would love to one day grow, but it's a start.  And while we have to thoroughly wash everything since bus and car exhaust from Hyde Park Boulevard does make its way up here, it's definitely a great place for these little herbs to get some sun and some rain.  And that's a start.

It Was Bound to Happen

Tonight we had dinner with friends downtown.  Having driven directly from work, I pulled up on one of the many busy streets of Chicago, did my little pay for parking sticker thing and was on my merry way.  Until, of course, we returned to the car about 2 hours later and saw this.

Ah, yes.  Our first official "Welcome to the City now give us money" letter from the Mayor.  As someone who is quite proud of her sign-reading ability, I'm ashamed to admit that apparently in my rush to park, I had missed the sign (above the pay for parking sign) that told me I couldn't park on the street from 4pm-6pm.

DANG IT!!!!!!

Looking over the ticket, things didn't look good.    $60 price tag.  (Also, sidenote, I noticed that the states of license plates printed on the ticket are "other," which you write in, OR Illinois- duh, Iowa- nearby, Michigan- even closer, Indiana- practically the same place, Ohio- midwest, Wisconsin- cheese is a Chicago favorite, and....TEXAS???   Of all the 44 other states to choose from, you print TEXAS???  What does this say about Texas drivers?  Geez!)  

But then I looked a little bit closer.

Look at that blessed, blessed "other" box.

Do you see it?  Can you make out those letters?  C...A.  CA.  California.  I DO NOT HAVE CALIFORNIA TAGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  (There's no way to mistake that for a D and a C is there?  I mean I'm not going crazy, am I?  Unless the guy was dyslexic?  I know, I don't think so either.)

So as far as I'm concerned- and I am concerned- we're off the hook.  Sure, a tiny, itsy bitsy bit of my conscience thinks, "Well, I should probably still pay the ticket."  Granted, the other 99% is saying "HELL NO" much louder.  I mean, if we don't get a ticket in the mail, we can just chalk it up to "ticketing error" right?  I mean does the city of Chicago REALLY need our $60?  I'm pretty sure the producers of "Transformers III" are contributing enough to cover my little piece...

Multiplying Like Rabbits

We're not.  At least not yet.  If possible, we would like to have lots of kids (4 or maybe more).  But like I said, we're not the ones multiplying like rabbits quite yet.  Check back in a few months.

I'll tell you what's multiplying like rabbits.  The Hyde Park rabbits, that's what.  I kid you not, we saw at least ten rabbits of all shapes and sizes on our walk yesterday.  In the bushes.  In the road (hmmm...someone might want to talk to them about that...) In the grass.  Granted, if I could live in the bushes near this, I probably would, too.

At least rent would be less.

Why should it surprise me that there would be rabbits galore in Hyde Park?  I don't know, maybe it's because CHICAGO IS THE THIRD LARGEST CITY IN AMERICA!  (I mean it's not exactly Mr. McGregor's garden.  Even though the British do now own the formerly-named Sears Tower.)  And yet, here they are.  In all their cute, hippity hoppity splendor.  In the middle of a city.

And I have to say, there's something beautiful about that.  That nature continues to exist in this little corner of Chicago.  One of the things I love most about Chicago, actually, is its green space.  It was designed that way- parks galore.  And I appreciate it.  Trees and grass and beautiful flowers are a much-needed break from pavement, skyscrapers and highways.

Now if only I could find my recipe for braised rabbit.

It's a Good Idea to Check

I am not in love with the health insurance industry.  My "unlove" is for a variety of reasons that I won't go into here (because- let's be honest- you're not reading Hyde Park Heroes to hear me talk about such things)

And so in that strong feeling of "unlove" I always begrudgingly payed the hundreds of dollars in bills (I'm not kidding.  I even considered posting them here) that we received after M or I went to the doctor, even though I thought we would only have to pay the co-pay.  Even though they were just routine check ups, or maybe one test.  But you know.  Loopholes or something.

That was soon to change.  A couple weeks ago, M went to the dermatologist to get some spots on his back checked, but I first called our lovely health insurance provider to make sure it would be covered.  I was promised, and I quote, "you'll only be responsible for the co-pay."  Hallelujah!  Thank you, Jesus!

And then the bill came.  $137.  Scramble to check coverage documents.  Copay = $20.  Not $137.  AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!  Hit head and yell not nice words about insurance company.  I had had it with the loopholes.

So, being the proactive, responsible citizen I am who complains when they don't like something, I called up our insurance company.  Punch in policy number.  Punch in birthdate.  Punch in the name of your second cousin's dog.  Forget the name of your second cousin's dog, so start over again.  Finally- FINALLY- a real. human. being.  And then I began, in my sweetest, most sarcastic voice.

Me: "Yes, hello Sally, thanks for talking with me.  I just have to see what is going on with my bills.  Despite your lovely company saying you'll cover everything but the co-pay, I'm still getting bills that are nearly seven times my co-pay.  Or more.  AND I AM DAMN TIRED OF PAYING THEM!!!!!!!!!!!"

Sally: "Just one moment, ma'am.  Let me see what's going on."

(pause.  pause.  click, click.  pause.)

Sally: "Oh!  I see what's going on!  You're getting billed by the doctor AND the hospital facilities where you're being treated.  Are the offices of your doctors in a university hospital or something?"

Me: "Well, seeing as how on my insurance statements- that, I'll remind you, your company produces- clearly identify it as 'The University of Chicago Medical Center' I'm going to go with YES."

Sally: "Oh, well then we need to adjust your claims.  I'll do that now."

Me: "Adjust them up?  Or down?  Or to the left or right?"

Sally: "Oh, down, ma'am.  You've been paying far too much."

silence.

Me: "I'm sorry, can you say that again?  Did you, the insurance company, just say I'm..I'm...paying...too MUCH?  Are you joking?"

Sally: "No, ma'am.  I'm not kidding.  And I'm sorry you've been paying these extra costs.  Wow, it looks like we're talking about around $500, aren't we?"

Me: "Holy freaking cow.  You're going to send me $500!?!"

Sally: "Well, no.  But the hospital will be refunding you shortly, I'm sure."

Me: "I LOVE YOU!  I LOVE YOU!  I'M GETTING BACK $500, I'M GETTING BACK $500!!!"

Now, granted, the hospital hasn't actually sent our refund back just yet. (I'm calling- again- tomorrow.)  And the insurance company said there was no way to make sure this didn't happen again, except to call them each time we go to the doctor.  But yeah. 

It's a good idea to check.

 

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