We have concluded the month of October, commonly recognized as Respect Life month, and I have a deep desire: That this past month might not pass-by as a fleeting period dedicated to recognizing the dignity of life. Rather, that it serves as a catalyst, prompting us to carry this truth forward into the months ahead; that we uphold the dignity and sanctify of life throughout the whole year.

More accompaniment, relationship, nuance and understanding… especially when we talk about life issues. 

No more divisive, condemning rhetoric from a distance, please. 

Those who are going through trauma tell us that this “picketing” tends to further drive a wedge between them and those are trying to help. 

Rather, when we are close, and when love is concrete… when we “see faces, learn names and hear stories”… we learn things, and healing happens.

Some of what I’ve learned from listening to those who’ve gone through much trauma: 

• Life is fragile and inherently valuable … 
• and we humans tend to universally value life. 
• Life does not flourish when we are abandoned, afraid, alone, ashamed, coerced or desperate. These are usually the result of things done to us by others. 
• Life flourishes when we are in healthy, supportive relationships… when we fearlessly accompany, even daring to meet others in the darkness, that the light of Christ may shine.

And this: Nothing will separate us (you!) from the love of Christ. (Romans 8:38) 

Let us be not afraid to accompany one another, in the Peace of Christ.

#youdeservetoflourish #youareloved #NothingCanSeparateUs

-Deacon Frank DiGirolamo, November 2021

Last night we met “M” - so glad we did. We were under an i-5 overpass… She was walking quickly in the opposite direction, and we just offered a quick “hi” and a smile… and that set off a beautiful chain of events. 

She stopped quickly, turned in our direction, and started to apologize. (For what?) 

(crying) “I’ve been a jerk to lots of people… because I’m all alone now…” (and very scared, having recently lost her boyfriend). 

Much listening later… and fully aware that some guys were staring us down, just for talking with her… she is in tears… Telling me about the need to be free from some oppressive people. We’ve seen this dynamic far too many times. 

My buddies instinctively distract those men with some friendly conversation, and I ask more about her fears… including asking her if it’s safe for me to offer her a card (a hotline that she can call or text 24/7). 

She looks around and then quietly tells me “yes.” I discreetly place the card in her hand, and she asks for prayer, now please. 

Lots of thanks for her life, and reminders that she is never alone, and affirmations of her value and inherent worth… and a blessing. 

We find some tissues to help stem the flow of tears… themselves a great addition to the prayer. 

She offers a hug, and thanks us for saying hi. 

“M” you are a blessing. An honor to spend some time with you. Wishing you freedom, peace and healthy friendships. 

If you are experiencing exploitation in the sex trade, including survival sex… freedom is possible, and you are worth it. – Nationally, 1-888-373-7888 - in Seattle, call or text 206-451-7378 (Real Escape from the Sex Trade)

-Deacon Frank DiGirolamo, October 2021

Dear "C," "M," "N," and so many others, 

Our interactions are brief. Sometimes we stand with you for several minutes or more. You tell us sometimes that it's the only real interactions you've had all day. We are happy to be there, and we also know that our time together is so small compared to your chronic situations. 

We just want you to know that we see you, and we hear you, and that we think about you, even when we are not with you. 

You welcome us graciously, sometimes just to say hi, and sometimes to process & reflect on the most serious stuff. We are thrilled to hear whatever you want to talk about. We are overwhelmed that you trust us with it. 

We see your daily struggle. We see that you are tired. It's in your eyes, and in your posture... In the wary / vigilant / informed glances you give to passers-by... in the way that you can instantly retreat into yourself for protection, when no other shelter or support is available. 

We can't imagine how exhausting this is for you, day after day. 24/7. 

We have learned the statistics about your life and your life expectancy. From a distance, this all makes sense. And, frankly, this challenges us when we get to know you. Those cold statistics take on a new urgency when we actually get to know you: 

If you are in the sex trade, we have been told that you will live for approximately 7 years after entering the life. This is due to the constant chaos, abuse, violence, and the need to find ways to cope and self-medicate. From a distance, this makes logical sense. However, it takes on a far deeper meaning as we get to know you personally. Yes, we can see you in a certain way on the streets and on the corners as we drive by. But we also see you in a different way, a more real way, when we stand face to face in outreach. We see how young you are, and how much your life is being taken from you. And we hear this as you tell us your prayer requests and talk about the constant stress and anxiety with which you live. We hope that it helps that we remind you that you are loved, and that you are worthy of finding freedom. 

If you live on the streets, we read that you will on average live into your late 40's or early 50's. Constant exposure to unrest, and the intensity required just to make it one day at a time. The body can only take so much. We see you as you prepare to sleep on the sidewalk yet again. How you slide all your belongings 50 feet down the way, trying to find a healthy distance from your neighbor who is bothering you. We see you struggle to care for recent wounds and scars. We see you gesture out of control, maybe because of mental health... maybe because of something you took to find a moment of relief from the pain. And when we listen deeply, we can hear your story in the midst of your uncontrollable speech and your tangential thoughts. We can piece together what you value from your upbringing... often, there was much love, before a tragedy struck. We can also hear that you sometimes struggle with hearing other voices... and it seems that those voices aren't always kind to you. We try to remind you that you are good and worthy of love. 

Oh, how we wish you could find rest. How we wish we could do a better job of trying to offer it. You deserve it. We don't fully understand, but we are trying. 

Meanwhile, we are honored to accompany you, even in the briefest of moments. We see you, we hear you, and we are trying to do better to accompany. Please pray for our efforts. 

#YouAreLoved

-Deacon Frank DiGirolamo, September 2021

A selection of highlights from a very full evening of accompaniment near pioneer square, where there has been a big increase in violence lately. All in the midst of the first-Thursday art gallery evening:

…A man stops his car in traffic and calls out to us from across the way (and amazingly, the other drivers patiently wait for him to talk with us)... he simply asks us to please pray for his mother who is very ill... an honor to do so. Wow. The love of a son for his mom.

…A very energetic young man approaches. Whoa! He is new in town, and distraught over the recent loss of his tent and belongings due to a fire. As he catches his breath, he tells us he is happy just to be alive, and asks for prayers for his children, and for daily strength to endure his current struggles. He doesn't know what tonight or tomorrow brings. He is concerned about the increase in recent violence in the area. He wears a tough veneer, but has a gentle, loving heart. This will be tough, but his good heart will serve him well. We linger there for as long as he would like...  

…We run into "M," and remember that he recently showed us photos of his new grandson. He is so in love with that young guy! A gift to reconnect and celebrate that relationship and the hope that comes with it. big smiles and handshakes.

…A big hug, as usual!, from a long-time friend who used to live not far from one of us... and who now calls pioneer square their part-time home... compared to the violence in their former home, this is actually a major improvement. Lots of peace seems to come from our brief connection and the chance to talk about some bright spots life. One day at a time.

…A young lady, apparently on her way to meet friends at a nearby restaurant, screams in fear as she is jolted by the sounds of a man yelling out from a nearby park. We are walking near her, and she is thankful for a brief escort from us... she is deeply shaken, and fumbles with her words... she doesn't know what to say. We give her a moment to catch her breath, and assure her that she is loved and that she is okay... She tells us that she loves us, and quickly departs. Such a flood of beautiful emotion just waiting to be received and shared. Her presence reminds us that we all have this great capacity to love, and that sometimes maybe we need to be shocked to be awakened to who's right in front of us.

…Three young men (maybe mid-20’s) sit lined up on a low wall in a darkened park. It was intimidating to approach them… but they quickly welcome us and we listen to whatever they want to talk about. They have recently arrived from out of town… and, immediately upon listening, we can tell that they harbor lots of anger and hostility toward others (including “the Church”)… and at the same time, they express frustration that there is so much hatred in the world. Indeed. A break-through seems to come when one of them expresses his hopes that “Good” would be expressed by people more often than “Evil.” He has experienced lots of the latter, and hungers for the former. This resonates with the others. We agree, and this young man seems happy to have found support for his proposal. He expresses what we all desire most deeply. There is a new sense of communion among us.

…A lady we've known for some time is slowly crossing a street toward us. Fortunate that the drivers are aware of her presence, as she crosses against the traffic signal. She is distraught over a recent fight with her husband… crying and hoping that he will return. She quietly prepares to spend the night alone in their tent. She reminds us that we have a tremendous desire to forgive and to be reconciled.

…Lots of folks are thrilled to be offered a wave, a greeting, some good food, a listening ear, and encouragement...

…And THIS... people of all faiths (and no particular faith) asking for prayer... often it's the first thing out of their mouths 🙂... People, in general, seem to really enjoy hearing a fellow human being speaking positively on their behalf... pausing, slowing down to just be with them in the angst of their day... and, "thanking God for them and for this moment... and, asking for wisdom and help"... it seems to remind us that we are seen, and we are not alone... that we have allies, friends, brothers and sisters... Perhaps that is how we best recognize God showing up... when we gather, and converse with God on each other's behalf... it's conciliatory and communal!...  Perhaps that has something to do with Jesus himself saying that he is present in a unique way whenever 2 or 3 gather in his name...

Peace, my friends.

#iwantrest #operationnightwatchseattle #archdioceseofseattle #YouAreLoved

-Deacon Frank DiGirolamo, August 2021

Note: This image has been haunting me for weeks. And I know, it’s difficult to view… but let us not be scandalized. This is just like the very popular “homeless Jesus” statues that adorn park benches (Matthew 25)… except that this is no statue… it’s the real thing. 

We were walking past a dark alley late in the evening with Operation Nightwatch in Seattle. We noticed what seemed to be some legs sticking out from behind the trash can. 

So many thoughts & feelings. How does someone get to this point? What relationships have they lost? What longings and hopes does this person have? How does an “advanced” society allow this to happen? How do we best love this person?

And, as I quietly approached in the darkness, concerned for their well-being… 

A light came on. Literally, it was an overhead light, sensing my motion. Flooding the area with light. Allowing us to see that our friend was breathing, and enabling us to leave some emergency supplies for them to receive upon waking… and to pause for a brief prayer. 

Friends, let us pray for the Light from above to keep shining on the realities of rejection, estrangement and isolation… that we may recognize and understand more clearly a path to truly seeing each other, so that healing and reconciliation can be ushered in. 

Perhaps we can reflect on the opportunities we are given to “walk into the darkness,” so that the Light will shine fully. What are the “alleys” of life that you pass by? What would it look like to walk into that space?

Lord, help us to not be afraid to “leave the 99 and to search for the 1.” (Luke 15:4) 

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:5) 

#ourbrother #oursister #youareloved #operationnightwatchseattle #iwantrest #archdioceseofseattle #intothedarkness #leththerebelight

-Deacon Frank DiGirolamo, July 2021

He (“D”) was meandering downtown, identifying with the refuse that lined the sidewalk. 

“Don’t waste your time with me. There are more important people for you to talk with.”

We assured him that he was the most important person right now, and that “We would love to listen to whatever you might want to talk about.”

That stunned him, and he wouldn’t allow it to be true... he revealed that he was in crisis - caught between hope and despair - not sure which way things would play out... but he would rather talk about his concern for other people.

And, wow, how he loved to talk about his mother. His eyes lit up, and he spoke of great memories. 

She is the one who let him know that he is lovable. She lives on the east coast, and he knows that she is praying for him. 

What an honor to hear him praying for her, thousands of miles away. 

It reminds us that nothing separates us from the love of God... not distance, not circumstances, not intoxication and a trash-lined street... 

He knows that candles aren’t magic. They are a simple, tangible expression of our hope. A prayer. 

Reminding us that light overcomes darkness... 

“D,” I lit the candle.

-Deacon Frank DiGirolamo, June 2021

We meet “M” (“that’s what they call me out here”) as he is preparing to walk away from one of the most intense open-air drug use areas of town. He says, “it’s getting too crazy here. I gotta move on to get some sanity.”

A desperation to move on…but also a lingering look at us… to see if we were maybe available. We were. And wow, he wanted to tell his story. 

There, in the midst of background yelling, purchasing, and rampant drug use, he told us about all the traumas that happened to him in the past year… things that left him very much alone, far away from home… feeling like no one knows him or loves him.

These are significant. The sudden loss of a young spouse; a violent burglary. All happening just as his future was looking bright. He had worked hard for years to receive his college degree, and was on the verge of the promise of a new job and new life with his family. Suddenly, the love of his life is gone, and then trauma by violence, and further despair by being robbed of key valuables and savings. How to move on? Distant family says that they care… (“…but what do they know?”) They haven’t had to go through what he’s going through. How can they help? He just wants “…the pain to go away.”

Lots of lengthy pauses. Lots of ambient noise from those around us. Standing there. With each other. No rush. This seems to be the first time he’s had someone to listen to all of this.

He wants to pray. (Wow. God, give us the words.) They are imperfect words, but we begin with thanks, and we beg for help. “Thanks for “M,” and for how wonderfully you made him… for his capacity to love and to be loved… we don’t understand what’s happening. The overwhelming pain. The darkness. The need for comfort…we know that the comforts of this world are fleeting. We humbly beg you to give comfort to “M” in his heart. Let him be overwhelmed by your love for Him, even in this valley. We love him, and we trust in you.”

(a big pause, and then a pleasant surprise…) “S.” – “…actually, my real name is “S.” (he gazes at us) “I just wanted you to know who I really am. Thanks for listening, and for praying with me.”

It’s privilege to hear his given name. Sacred ground. It reminds us that God calls us each by name, and knows us intimately. Sharing a name is a participation in that communion. “Thanks, “S,” for talking. It is a blessing to meet you.”

My friends - God knows you, and is always with you in your struggles. May you be overwhelmed by His presence. And, let us pray for those who are particularly in need of that reminder today. Perhaps we are being sent to their side to help make God’s love more concrete.

-Deacon Frank DiGirolamo, May 2021

We’ve been spending some time visiting folks under a part of I-5 in Seattle recently. The overhead protection from rain is very valuable during the winter months. The community has been growing steadily. More tents every week.

At one particular tent, we encounter a man who is very talkative. Any topic, at length. Perhaps he hasn’t had anyone to talk with for a while. That’s something we hear quite a bit. After a short while with him, we notice that his tent-mate, another man, has been quiet the whole time. He is laying down, just able to move his head enough to see us from under the tent flap. 

It is at that point that the quiet man begins gesturing with his hand. It’s unlike any gesture I’ve seen. His arm is mostly extended, and his hand is a bit bent. Like he’s having some difficulty controlling it. But he is determined and persistent in trying to make me understand something.

I go through an educated litany of guesses, drawing from the context surrounding our visit: “oh, would you like a pair of socks, too? Oh, do you disagree with what your tent-mate just said? Are you asking for another sandwich? Water?” 

With each failed guess, I sense increased exasperation. No words. Maybe he is tired of talking. Maybe he can’t talk. Perhaps the road noise directly above is too much. I am increasingly intrigued and inspired by his persistence… and frustrated in my own inabilities. [I pray for him, quietly. God, help me to understand what’s happening. “Are you maybe asking me to leave? I can do that. We certainly don’t want to overstay our welcome.”]

It was then that the quiet man made a final, desperate effort. He contorted his body, and struggled to reach further than ever in my direction. He almost touched the crucifix hanging from my neck. (I ponfrt) “My friend, are you maybe asking for prayer?” And he immediately relaxed, letting out a big sigh of relief, bowing his head, and folding his hands.

We prayed. I was the one saying words, he was praying powerfully without words, and the Holy Spirit was animating it all - Prompted by the reminder of Christ’s sacrifice on the cross for us. 

This man may have uttered no words. His beautiful seeking God in prayer left us speechless.

-Deacon Frank DiGirolamo, April 2021

"You!" 

Is she pointing at me?! Maybe?... from 30 feet away, in the middle of a crowded hospital hallway? (this was pre-COVID) I looked around, and then back at her.

"Yes, you!” now with more urgency. “I need you in this room right now to pray for my dying mother." 

She mentions that she had seen my crucifix. 

"You must have something to do with the faith, and we don't know how to pray. Please help us pray for our mother!" 

What an honor. I had been serving as a community chaplain for members of our church, and was invited into a tender moment of a stranger's life, to pray... because I was wearing a simple reminder of God's love. 

That's one of the reasons I continue to wear some type of cross or crucifix daily.

For one, it’s a reminder to me of Jesus’ overwhelming, perpetual offer of His love for me. 

It’s a reminder of Jesus’ invitation to daily pick up our cross, deny ourselves and follow him. 

It’s also a powerful reminder to everyone who sees it (no matter how small the image, or how crowded the hallway) that God pours himself out completely in love for us… to pursue us in any way that we’ve gone astray, and to welcome us into eternal life in Him.

Plus, you never know when someone might be in need, desperately look around for “someone who seems to have something to do with the faith,” point at us, and shout out… "You!" 

(pictured: Crucifix with depiction of Christ the Good Shepherd, carrying a sheep that was lost, and is now found.)

-Deacon Frank DiGirolamo, March 2021

We are on our weekly visit to N. Aurora Avenue, praying the rosary for everyone. (This is always a little scary. There is violence surrounding the sex trade. We are able to show up because we ask God’s for protection, so that we can love fully, without fear… We are confident that God is indeed already present, desiring to express love to those caught up in the life.)

After a short while, a man in an SUV slows to a stop, rolls down his window, stares at us for a little while… (we have no idea who he is, but we know that God loves him… we wave & simply hope that our intention to appear loving is working…) and he asks, “can I have one of those?”

We ask for clarification, and he points, “one of those rosaries?”  “Yes, for sure!” (we are very relieved, and thankful that we always carry extras for this type of circumstance).

Wow. So great. Praise God! In the midst of the prostitution track, where many find themselves “looking for love in all the wrong places,” this by-passer notices us praying the rosary… and it stops him in his tracks. He backs up, pulls into a nearby lot, and waits.

At his car window, I hand off the rosary and introduce myself. He thanks me, tells me that his name is “A,” and asks where our Church is? I tell him about nearby Christ the King Parish, less than a mile away, he nods and commits it to memory, and then offers, “I have six kids… I need to go to Church… I need to be a better dad.” 

Sacred ground in the midst of N. Aurora. “A, we are very thankful to meet you today, and to hear how much you love your children. You are certainly welcome at any Church…” (a long pause… he glances at his new rosary, and then back at me)… I offer, “A, would you maybe like a prayer and a blessing?” (before I finish my offer he nods vigorously, and bows his head.) 

We thank God for the gift of A’s fatherhood, and how it points to the all-powerful, merciful, consoling love of our Heavenly Father. We thank God for whatever has brought us together in this moment… and that “A” will be immediately welcomed at whatever Church he decides to go to… and that he will continue to receive grace to be the loving father he knows he is called to be… we pray for God’s protection in his life, against anything that might separate him from fully loving his family… and we offer him a blessing in the name of the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit.

“A” tells me he needs to go pick up his wife. He is appreciative of our time, and thankful for the encouragement and welcome. The truth is, “A,” that your presence is a blessing to us. 

-Deacon Frank DiGirolamo, February 2021

Third Avenue is a most dynamic environment. Especially at night. Those who are oppressed mingle along-side those who oppress them. Open-air drug dealing, drug use, human trafficking. This is also where we very often encounter folks who are deeply desirous of prayer, freedom, and talking about what really matters in life. Sometimes it’s the dealers who want to talk and pray, but they are usually focused on their “work,” and/or suspicious of our presence. Most often, it’s those with addictions with whom we connect more deeply.

“J” is in a doorway, standing with some other acquaintances. He’s drinking something, but he is one of the more coherent folks in the area. He is happy to be seen, and speaks unvarnished truth.

“We’re all STUCK. Look at all of us. We are out here because we are stuck, and we need help to break free. Something has a hold of us.” A big pause. He’s looking left and right. The term he uses is powerful. It’s literal and figurative. The sidewalk all around us is littered with used syringes, and one of our main precautions is to make sure we aren’t accidentally “stuck.” 

The term “stuck” applies to dealers as much as users. We’ve had dealers drop to their knees with us to ask for prayer & freedom, revealing that they don’t know why they are doing what they do… but they know they are hurting people, and they desire to be free. I become aware that a known dealer is standing a few feet away, listening. I turn to him, and wish him a good evening. 

“J’s” acknowledgement of his situation is courageous, and seems to spring from a deep sense of Hope. He knows that he is worth freedom. He also knows that the dealers are not the enemy –they are stuck as well. They have a common enemy. A common phrase out here is, “it’s all angels and demons,” and evil is the name that many use to express the spirit that is alive in drug culture. It’s what compels someone to sell. It’s what manifests in the lives of those who use. 

“J” asks to pray, for freedom from evil. Together, we pray for him, and the others – in the loving name of Jesus – the name in which death was conquered, and in whom we are offered freedom and new life. We talk about what it looks like for him to amend his life, to live one day at a time… to forgive whoever hurt him in the past, to avoid the occasions of falling backward, and to receive the blessing that God desires for him. We invite him into relationship with a caring community. You are worth freedom, “J.” We continue to pray, and work, for you to be “un-STUCK.” 

“Come to me… all you who are … [“stuck”]… and I will give you rest.” (Mt. 11:28)

-Deacon Frank DiGirolamo, January 2021

Socks. It has taken me 34 years to realize it, but socks were the most significant tangible gift I ever received from my dad. 

It was the first Christmas after my mom had died. My brother and I had returned from school to find that our dad was doing his best to keep our traditions alive, while, in the process, revealing how much we all missed mom. On Christmas morning, he did his best to provide gifts. I remember there being several. The most significant were white athletic socks. Humbly “wrapped” in the plastic bag from the store where he bought them. (I’m pretty sure that he got rid of the receipt.)

At the time, I remember thinking that my dad is wonderfully humble, and awesome. I couldn’t imagine what he was going through. And he simply wanted to provide something that conveyed how much he cared about us. Perhaps, subconsciously, helping us to mature. No longer “toys” under the tree. Something much more practical and abiding. A reminder that we are loved, and that he is with us step by step, as we go forth on an everyday basis.

This insight about the socks is new, surfacing just a few weeks ago. I was on the streets of Seattle, visiting folks who are experiencing homelessness. The ministry is primarily about relationship, but we give out dozens of pairs of white socks every week. They are survival items for people who are on their feet all day, especially in the rain. Eyes light up when the offer is heard. Many times, socks have helped to open a doorway of trust, and to engage with folks who are experiencing the worst suffering. Immediately, we are welcomed onto that sacred ground, where we are always privileged to listen, empathize, comfort, refer to resources, and often pray together. Bonds are formed. Healing happens. 

It often occurs to us in this ministry that the offer of socks is a modern-day equivalent of washing feet. It is a lowering of one to another in humble service. An expression of deep, intimate caring. It is an offer of a simple & humble gift. A gift that remains after we depart. A gift that reminds the recipient that they are thought of, step by step, as they go about their pilgrimage.

I am forever thankful for my dad’s humility, love, and all the ways that he washed our feet.

My dad helped me to see Christ in our midst, and to hand on that most-significant gift that I received from him. It’s much more than socks. 

-Deacon Frank DiGirolamo, December 2020