Tag Archives: poem

She was disruptive, to say the least. A woman, scowling, mentally unstable, stalked the parking lot like a cornered tiger, roaring words at full volume toward the universe, at least half-threatening, and seemingly half-afraid. We were celebrating the thirtieth anniversary of the Malibu Community Labor Exchange with a big fiesta, complete with delicious food from Kristy’s, a troupe performing traditional Oaxacan dances in festive costumes, and a highly-energetic mariachi band. But, as I mentioned, she was disruptive, to say the least.

Some tried to help, appropriately, and unsuccessfully. At times, her behavior escalated toward a possible physical confrontation, and several of the workers on hand rose and drew near like tender bouncers, ready to assist. Oscar, a friend and protégé of the legendary Cesar Chavez, who for six days a week for thirty years now—that’s something like nine thousand times—has driven to Malibu from South Central Los Angeles to direct the center and handle situations exactly like this one, stood close, observing, listening, caring. At the conclusion of the dance performance, the teenage dancers shared a special dance involving pineapples, which triggered a barrage of the verbal outbursts, but the young dancers kept their composure and performed flawlessly, while occasionally darting an eye to the woman lurking at stage left. But nothing stopped the beauty of the night; and, in fact, the uncomfortable interruptions seemed somehow to complete a full picture of the three decades of the Labor Exchange in Malibu: humanity, in all its complicated forms.

I loved being there alongside workers and supporters, as always, and at night’s end was talking to Oscar who, speaking of the woman, leaned in to share with that trademark magical twinkle in his eye like he is witnessing special things in the universe: “Do you know what she shared with me when she left? She said, kindly, ‘Oscar, thank you for tonight.’”

As she stalked out into the night, alone, she said, Thank you.

I know there are many ways of making sense of the universe, but I happen to be a follower of Jesus. I have often thought of the Malibu Community Labor Exchange as a modern version of the story that Jesus told about the Rich Man and Lazarus, but at the party on Saturday night, the scene was more like the wild story where a man called Legion because of his many demons screamed and screamed at Jesus in a cemetery—or a later version where a follower named Paul had a similar encounter with a woman in Greece. In those stories, the demons got tossed out. I really wish that I could toss out her demons, too.

In the meantime, I am glad to know that there is a place right here in Malibu that is willing to offer patient hospitality to those battling demons who accept an open invitation to the party.

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

– By Emma Lazarus, from The New Colossus