Muffin

"Muffin?"

My two partners probably thought I was crazy.  I mean, they'd followed me around the underground, going this way and that without questioning where their "huang-di" was leading them.  (Sorry, outsiders, I had to throw in the inside joke... huang-di = emperor and has somehow become my nickname amidst this motley crew.)

And now the girl's yelling out "Muffin!" as she leads them toward a tall, thin black woman.  She's lost her mind (more room for the heart to grow?).

I met Muffin earlier this year, back in January or February, when I was still volunteering at Project H.O.M.E.'s Women's Winter Respite Shelter.  She was vibrant, loud, stubborn, had seen more movies than a theater custodian, but had a soft side too.  She hugged me right away-- though I doubt she really remembered me, she said that something about me seemed familiar, and I guess she had to hug that.

Our interaction was brief.  We gave her a bag and water, she updated me on her housing/job status, and then we parted.  It was long enough, though, to scratch away some of the residue from this past winter.

See, when I got back from Spain last December, I was in bad shape.  I could run fine and all, but my heart-- my spirit-- had been suffocated.  And it killed to see everyone else at church so happy and integrated and myself the outsider all over again.  I was depressed, legit depressed, for a good couple months.  I began volunteering during that time at Project H.O.M.E., thinking maybe a fresh environment doing something I love could alleviate some of my feeling of alienation.  It didn't.  I felt worse.  I came back from the shelter even more depressed than when I left for it.  I felt useless there; the women didn't remember me from week to week; only the workers took notice of me.  And that one woman Muffin-- so one time she just completely spazzed out, cursed up a storm, because she'd either misplaced or been robbed of her bag.  She broke down violently, completely, pathetically-- and that night I did too.  I couldn't take it anymore.  So I quit volunteering there.

Seeing Muffin again at the park brought me back to the winter, the darkness, all the pain-- real or imagined-- that I'd tried to forget about.  It was almost as if God was saying, "Even in your darkest times, even in your uselessness, I am still Light, and I can still use you."

If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me

and the light become night around me,"

even the darkness will not be dark to you;

the night will shine like the day,

for darkness is as light to you. 

--Psalm 139:11-12