LOVE LETTERS TO THE POOR, CHAP. 3
Little P's in a big B.
"Finding, pursuing, cherishing the sparks of magic to feed the soul.”
Even in a big city, there are many sparks of the tender, small and magical, hidden where they can be found by those seeking them. I keep the thread of God and His Son woven though all the writing pieces I do, one by one, on Love Letters to the Poor. God is what makes all this work, especially for those of us in the challenge of lower income and life around it.
Here is one spark of magic I had an encounter with, one chilly night in San Francisco. While I no longer live in San Francisco, the magic certainly remains.
I was a residential leasing agent for 17 years, showing apartments for rent all over San Francisco, predominantly in the northern end, including in the Financial District, Nob Hill, Pacific Heights and east end of SOMA. Many were Victorian and Edwardian buildings, usually 3-4 storeys. A few apartments were in downtown high rises, slender or broad towers of steel, not particularly soulful to me. Considering my sensitive temperament, high rises did not resonate with me but also did provide work for me to do and I gratefully pursued the showings in each of them.
One night back somewhere in the early 2000’s, I finished a showing at early twilight at the base of Harrison and Main in SOMA. I left and began my swift walk down Main Street (yes, San Francisco does have a Main Street!) to Market St and then over to the base of Sacramento St to catch my #1 California bus home. Being a very street smart lady and always aware of the surroundings of my walk, I moved quickly on my journey of a handful of blocks, walking with purpose and focus. Approaching one of the main arteries of San Francisco, at the very base of Market Street, I stopped for a moment before entering the street. Momentarily, I looked to the right and was stunned by what I saw. In the ground floor sidewalk level picture window of the Federal Reserve Bank, a formidable edifice of a building, was a totally unexpected and winsome display of Piggy banks and other cheerful types of coin banks. The sheer surprise of eccentricity and tenderness just stunned me. I walked over and was transfixed by this humble offering of the sincere hopes of children and even of grown ups. The clink of coins is a powerful thing, not only to little kids but to those of us who have struggled so mightily in the material realm. The sound of pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters is a potent one and not to be dismissed, even from the window of a formidable financial temple in USA and world commerce, where few people like me have a presence. Reluctantly tugging myself away from the magical coin banks, I crossed the intensity of Market Street. I headed for my #1 California bus stop, musing on the amazing odd juxtaposition of innocent childhood in the window of a place of enormous and hard-driving commerce.
This is the power of the sudden sparks of magic, to those of us who have "run to survive" and who are often with "head down in survival mode." This is not a great way to live for more than a short time but remains reality for so many of us who are profoundly and negatively affected, overwhelmed by the hard-driving type A template of much of USA in the 21st century. Trying to avoid being flattened and run down by the demands of the material realm, these sparks of magic have been one of my survival modes to keep the hope lamp burning. While I can admire the drive it takes to make a "success" of life, I have despaired so much of ever reaching that and I have often come close to giving up. Yet God has given each of us unique gifts from His heart, abilities and talents that no other person on earth has. It is of course up to us to walk with Him day by day, keep our hearts in repentance and cleared of accumulated sorrow and rebellion and ask His help to slowly but surely bring these gifts to fruition. My gifts are as a "wordsmith" and to "encourage the discouraged." Both, I do.
I do not seek great wealth, I seek freedom to create on my own terms.
That spark remains lit in me, even in 2023 at age 70, away from the big city. In my 31 years of living in downtown San Francisco, that spark did not go out and has remained untrammeled, undaunted, undiminished, not crushed or captured.
I carry that spark with me, as the cherished offering of the sacrifice of Christ for me and for all who will grab hold and not let go. The wondrous thing is that God walks the road with us, not leaving us alone to fend for ouselves. He walks with us all the way into Eternity with Him, to a place of full wonder on ahead.
This is an absolute necessity for souls like me, to hold fast to.
Wendy Williams March 2, 2023