Email: Diana Stapp

Dear Family and Friends,

Three months ago today, I arrived in Tucson to begin my year of service with PC(USA)’s Young Adult Volunteer (YAV) program. While I have a blog (http://dianaintucson.blogspot.com) to share daily, weekly, or monthly experiences, my anecdotes have yet to emphasize the theme of “community” that has run consistently throughout my time here. Soon after I graduated from college and left behind a community near and dear to my heart, I came to Tucson to join a new community of seven other volunteers who have all dedicated themselves to live intentionally and serve faithfully. A few weeks into my placement at Southside Presbyterian Church I found myself a part of another community—with those I serve. It is through my experiences in these two communities that I can best describe what life looks like here.

Our YAV community lives in a five-bedroom house about a mile and half south of downtown Tucson. We commute to our placements by bike (mine being the closest, only a mile away!) as this site has committed itself to bike, bus, walk, or carpool in effort to live simply. I am comfortable riding my bike around Tucson now that I know the downtown and university area. I am able to get where I need to go without too many problems. I have only had one bike accident and it included one of my housemates getting her tire stuck in a trolley track, falling off of her bike as result, and my front tire running into her on the ground. This caused me to fall of my bike. All was well, but it sure was embarrassing as cars were stopping by to see if we were okay. Just a few battle wounds.

On another note, each of us receives a $300 a month stipend of which we each put $100 in the house “pot” to pay for food and utilities. As we try to live in an ethical manner, everything this house does—from where we shop to the dish soap we buy—takes a lot of effort. With eight people, this is not easy, as there are different ideas on how this should be done, and our priorities do differ to some degree. Shopping for groceries has been interesting, as we usually bike with a trailer to get the majority of our food. Just the other night, however, a few of my housemates and I went on a creative adventure to gather our food. Friday night we went dumpster diving in hopes of finding relatively good food that grocery stores (Trader Joe’s) threw out that day. We found fresh bread, some produce, yogurt, and other random items. I personally thought dumpster diving would be easier and cleaner than it was. I realized I was wrong when I was standing in a dumpster sorting through garbage bags and I find what I thought to be a frozen pizza. I eagerly threw it at my roommates and garlic sauce splattered all over them.

My placement at Southside has a few components. On Sundays I am a part of the congregation, Mondays I work at our homeless program (Cross Street Ministries), and Tuesdays through Thursdays I work in the parking lot with day laborers. This placement has been both amazing and energy depleting. Four days a week I work with people who have both immediate and long-range needs, and I can sometimes provide what they need in that moment. Cross-Street Ministries was easier for me to acquaint myself with as I filled the role needed in the clothing room. In this clothing room, men and women can come get a change of clothes for free from 7:30 a.m. to 10 a.m. every Monday and Friday. On Mondays I get the room ready to open, and during the week I restock the room with donated clothing. I tend to be an orderly person who likes things to be presented “just right,” so I often fold and refold until I like how the room looks. After the men come through the room it’s often a disaster, so I never really thought that it mattered to the clientele how the room looked until a few weeks ago when one man started telling me how Southside provided the best food, the nicest clothing room etc. than the other programs around Tucson. This indicated to me that the clientele do notice the efforts that go into making this program what it is, and it makes folding jeans and sweaters much more enjoyable.

The Day Labor Program (DLP), on the other hand, does not provide services; rather it is a safe place for men to wait for work, that is, it’s safer than waiting on street corners where it is easier for violence to break out or to be picked up by the police for loitering. The men have organized themselves and have created the rules that they want to follow rather than the church or a group of volunteers telling the men what they can and cannot do. My role is to help the process along each day at 6:00 a.m. when the raffle begins to determine the order of the list in which the men will go out for work. I also am there to accompany the men and build relationships with them. This is where I find the most joy and heartbreak, as well as life lessons. These men are funny and animated people who remind me daily that it is God who provides us life. Each morning I enter the parking lot and have this conversation with many individuals (translated): My question: “Good morning, how are you?” Their response, “I am good/great, thanks to God.” How often do you hear Americans saying that? I am not sure I have ever heard this response.

Another life lesson I have learned is that while long-term systematic change is necessary to change lives, change can happen through a smile, a conversation, and a bit of encouragement. My friend Luciano taught me this. For the first month and a half that I knew him, he was buzzed every morning at 6:00 a.m. I am sure he had many reasons for this—living alone on the streets in a struggling economy can be hard on the spirit. On his 57th birthday he decided for himself that he would quit drinking, and he was eager to let me know. Each day he told me how many days he had been without a drink and would ask me if I could tell the difference. Each day I cheered him on. I can’t imagine there was anybody else to encourage him, as most people on the street do drink. He got his act together and was able to move on to a different city where he knew someone who had a job for him.

My heart breaks for the men, and I worry about their situations. I see the injustice that goes on with border patrol and other societal systems, and I see the damage that individuals can do to their own lives. Homeless people are not all the same; each has their individual story. Undocumented workers are not just statistics for border patrol to justify building a wall—they are somebody’s somebody far away from home trying to provide for their family. And not all Latino men that you see in Tucson are undocumented, many have papers but are assumed to be “illegal” in this politically hot climate.

There are days when I am excited to go to work, and there are days when I am tired and frustrated and have no patience for the unruliness that can occur at my placement. I suppose that is the same for house life as well—some days are great, other days are really hard. That said, I did not come to Tucson for a stroll in the park. I came to be transformed through intentional Christian living and to serve these ostracized populations with love.

Thank you for all your support and love.