Additional Thoughts on Simplicity

I have been thinking a lot about what it means to live a simple lifestyle. It has been one year since I’ve headed to Zambia, and the Gonzaga-in-Zambezi daily blog has caused me to reflect on my own experience there, and the ways my life has changed since then.

It is easy to call Zambian life as simple. Simply put, the people of Zambezi aren’t generally attached to their cell phone at all times, aren’t watching hours of television or surfing the internet, and aren’t cluttering their lives with excess consumption like we find ourselves doing each day. Back in the United States, we struggled with the concept of need versus want in our daily choices.

I wonder if simple lifestyle fully takes into account the Zambian life experience. While in Zambia, I remember thinking that I had a lot less to worry about while in Zambia (I wasn’t thinking about finals or moving to Washington, DC, or the things I’ve cluttered my life with). Yet the realities of my worries seemed almost trivial in comparison to the Zambian worries. Mama Kuwatu shared with our students here daily journey to collect water from a source that is too contaminated for us to drink from – a hole in the ground where she waits to collect water and carry it back on her head. She grows her food and takes care of her many children. Despite the fact that her home is nice in comparison to others in Zambezi, it is still without heat and has a dirt floor and electricity. Is this simple? Or is it more to think about than I must think of? Perhaps my lifestyle, with its modern conveniences and comfort is simpler in a sense.

Yet it was also easy to see the Zambian life as more simple, without the distractions that are present in my life. Never have I felt as present as I felt in Zambezi – no cell phone, no internet to distract me. All I could focus on was the relationships present to me, and the ways I was growing there.

Here in JVC, I think we’re challenged to think of “simplicity of time,” a concept that refers being intentional with our time and the way we use it. This intentionality has become a game of tug-a-war: spending time communicating with friends and family via email, phone, and letters while staying ever present to the people in my house while staying present and active with the other relationships here in the city. Being present here is harder than that presence in Zambezi, and it becomes something that is chronically a challenge for me.

I think my conclusion from this year, and from my reflections on Zambia is that we both struggle with what it means to live a simple lifestyle. Based on our cultural and societal norms, simplicity has different meanings. Yet the goals are ultimately the same – by living a simple life, we become free to live more authentically real lives, lives that aren’t wrapped up in the complexities of our society.

The Value of Simplicity

This year has challenged me to explore what it means to live a simple lifestyle. When paired with the work we are doing in our placements, the value of living in community, and intentionality in our faith, there is a dynamic of both challenge and peace that come with living simply.

I have come to understand hat there are two main virtues in living a simple lifestyle. Perhaps most intuitively is the idea that living simply, in all aspects of the word, leads to more freedom from the realities of a consumerist and materialistic society. So often, our world tells us we need the newest product of everything. The newest product will make us happy. We need the newest style of clothing. Yet the message is false: for as soon as a new more stylish piece of clothing arrives in the fall, we will no longer be happy, but instead will crave what is new. The reality is that most of my clothes are just fine. In fact, I brought less than half of my clothing with me to JVC and I've been more than fine. I apparently don't need the rest, even if I may still want them.

I think there is something to be said about the way simplicity helps us understand who our clients are, and to understand their own life's journey. Each month, I am paid less than the SSI check my clients receive, and unlike them, I'm not receiving additional assistance like food stamps. Instead, most of my check has predetermined endpoints: rent, utilities, food, household items, and transportation. Eighty five dollars remain intact after our house bills are paid.

In some ways, simplicity, at least financially, has been especially challenging. The question becomes, what do I really need and how do I budget to make that happen? Perhaps I don't need another drink at our Legal Clinic Happy Hour, but I would enjoy another. I suppose I don't need Starbucks coffee beans, but Starbucks does taste a lot better than Folgers or ChocFull of Nuts.

The challenge becomes balancing the simplicity choices. The joy I have found is in the simple instances when I indulge into the luxuries I had previous found common. When thrown into the blend of many days of ChocFull of Nuts, suddenly Starbucks seems to taste better, richer, and it becomes much more enjoyable and special. Happy hour is filled with much more happiness and delight.

And, though maybe it's an exaggeration to say, but simplicity - the act of budgeting, of sacrificing, and of delaying our pleasures, gives me a little insight into the lives of our clients. The difference, however, is that I live in a house of other volunteers whose safety nets are tight and comprehensive. Our immediate safety net is in one another, and the contribution we bring to our household expenses each month. Our budget ensures that we will be challenged, yet successful in meeting our basic needs. An SSI check can't ensure that each month.

While I can't say I can understand all of my clients' daily experiences financially, I believe my challenge in simplicity has helped me move one step closer to empathizing with their difficulty and painful financial options they get to choose from each day. While it's clear that in many ways, my life will never be the same as my clients', at least this way I can try and accompany them on their life journeys.

Building a Human Safety Net

Standing at the Wilson building today, chanting phrases like “Save Our Safety Net,” holding a net, and the hands of fellow advocates from across the city, I felt renewed in my commitment to serving my clients each day. I have journeyed this year with clients like Mr. R., Ms. M., and Mr. J. I have sat down with them, listened to their stories, and together, we have gone to their Social Security disability hearings hoping to win them Social Security benefits. Each day at Bread for the City, I meet with walk-ins and take calls from many people across the city calling because they have found themselves in need of an attorney. I have listened to their stories and have seen the effects of both personal choices and structural inequalities.

In the last month, the Wilson building has become quite familiar to me. Together with Eli and Legal Clinic for the Homeless attorney Scott McNeilly, we have gone door to door to Council Members, asking them to reconsider the proposed cuts to IDA, the program our SSI clients need to survive each month. I have helped the Fair Budget Coalition plan a budget briefing on housing, and have attended a previous rally urging City Council members to vote for progressive tax reform so that our social safety net services might be spared in the $500 million of proposed budget cuts this year.

Today felt different than those previous visits to the Wilson building. Today we stood, holding hands and nets, circling the entire building. This literal joining of hands, the literal act of building a human safety net, was a public testament of how important these services are to our clients. It is more than just about progressive tax increases or fighting for what I believe is right. It’s about making sure our clients can simply live.

Standing around the Wilson building, seeing familiar faces of the advocates I’ve met this year, holding hands and passionately chanting, my heart was flooded with emotions of connection, passion, dedication, and increased vigor. I felt a sense of renewal and recommitment. I am here for my clients, and for the ways we are growing together.


For more information about the Save Our Safety Net Campaign or for more pictures of this rally, please click here.

Canvassing to Support the Save Our Safety Net Campaign

I’d consider myself someone who has mastered the art of fundraising – starting in high school with KEY Club, Caitlin and I weren’t afraid to ask anyone we’d ever met for money so that we could further some sort of Adopt-A-Family project or fundraising cause like Relay for Life. Through the different service experiences in both high school and college, I honed my ability to talk with people about why they needed to give money to my cause, whether it was for the East L.A. alternative spring break trip, or the Kennedale Park planting project.

That being said, canvassing is a different challenge. Unlike fundraising (mostly just asking for money), canvassing involves asking someone to commit their values in writing. For us, it involved going into an affluent neighborhood in D.C. to ask residents if they’d support a nominal (less than 1%) increase in income taxes for residents making over $200,000 each year. Hoping that these signatures would sway the votes of the City Council, we went door-to-door, explaining the mission and goals of the Save Our Safety Net Campaign***.



Half of the people we spoke with weren’t interested in the message. Understandably - who honestly wants to see their taxes increase, even if it is a nominal amount? Perhaps more powerful though, was other half of the people we talked with. The people who wrestled with the idea as we stood on their doorstep… the people who thought about our IDA clients and our clients needing job training and child care… about our homeless men, women, and families who depend on D.C.’s safety net during the winter months. Ultimately, whether it was out of an engrained belief in the needs of our poor, or a beautiful transformation when hearing the cries of our poor, these men and women signed the petition urging their council man or woman to raise their own taxes.

I think that during these moments – when I watched fellow D.C. residents wrestling with their own tax burden increasing so that they could guarantee that our city’s poor could afford to merely live – these moments were moments of social change. It wasn’t the social change I see each day at Bread for the City, the change that involves winning a battle at Landlord-Tenant Court or a change that involves a family receiving enough food for the rest of the month. Rather, this social change was a change in attitude, a change in heart. A change towards realizing our common humanity.

It is this change that makes me want to canvas again – so that both the social safety net will ensure our clients will have enough this next year, and so that our wealthier residents will have a transformation of heart.


***For more information about the Save Our Safety Net Campaign and for information on how to get involved, please click here.

A Home Visit with Eli and Rebecca

Rebecca, Eli, and I went on an adventure to Client X’s house last night. Client X is one of Bread for the City’s legal clients, and Client X lives in the Northeast section of the city. As we drove from our Southeast office across the Anacostia and back into Northeast, the area looked familiar. My roommate Jordan and I had biked to that very intersection during one of our biking expeditions a few weeks prior and had commented on the presence of stores, chain stores, etc… in an area we might not have expected them.

Perhaps one block from this area, an area whose façade looks like chain stores and development is the house of client X. From the outside façade of the client’s building, life looked normal and average – nothing out of the ordinary. As Eli opened the door of the apartment building, I was transported into another world – trash was the first thing I saw in the hallways of the building… cigarette butts lined the floors… We arrived at the top of the stairs to meet Client X, who told Eli to walk around back to meet. We walked back into the sunshine, around the building, and up a flight of stairs.

This morning I was fishing for a word to describe walking up those back stairs. I think eerie describes the way I felt walking into a home that had large holes in the walls… that was dark and messy. The doors had violent images of death and corpses graffitied on them. We stepped through a large pile of garbage as we walked in – that garbage could have been the home to rats and bed bugs for all I know. We handed Client X a bag of food, chatted for a second, and said goodbye.

This is the aspect of poverty I don’t have to see at Bread for the Cit. The image of Client X’s house is imprinted in my mind as a sign of mental illness, the effects of drugs and prostitution, lack of opportunity, hopelessness… the effects of the poverty cycle that is present in our society.

The funny part is that I was more struck here than I was in Zambia. Zambia, an African nation, a nation full of the images of absolute world poverty. Walking along the dirt streets of Zambezi, glances at homes with thatch roofs and no running water, with children wearing second or third hand clothing from America, with the people staring at the white outsiders. That is an image of poverty too, an image of some of the world’s most absolute poverty.

I think as Americans, with our media coverage, we’ve been conditioned to know that to be Africa. That is the African poverty we expect when we travel there. It is no surprise to us when we see it. Though it tugs at our hearts and we grapple with the site of the poverty, it is exactly what we expected to see.

I live in Washington, DC. The capital of the United States of America, the “richest country in the world.” I live in the same city as the U.S. Capitol building, the White House, the Smithsonian Institution Museums, the Memorials, and the National Monument. But I also live in a city where Client X lives perhaps worse than the people of Zambia. Client X’s home is just hidden by the brick exterior. Bricks are hard and sturdy. Bricks don’t reveal what is inside.

To borrow a phrase from Norman Maclean and adapt it to my own experience, I am haunted by the image of Client X’s house. I have not lost hope, however. Instead, my experience with Client X makes clear my vocation to act with justice, to love tenderly, to serve one another, and to walk humbly with God.