Look Past My No’s
The words cut with such anger:
“Please stop calling me.”
“No, I do not want to reconnect.”
“We’re sorry, but the person you are trying to reach has blocked your number.”
Now, I know what these messages look like and no, this is not what happened with my sophomore-year girlfriend (it was mutual, ok?). These are actually just a few of the responses I got while working as a Miracle Messages detective. When I’m met with responses like this, I start to understand why the younger generation loves to text instead of talk over the phone: mean texts don’t hurt nearly as bad as hearing the actual words. All these no’s also made me realize, though, how powerful a “yes” can be, no matter how simple:
“Hi, how is she doing? Thank you for contacting me, Andrew.”
Miracle Messages is an organization that helps to reconnect the homeless with their loved ones through short video messages. The team that helps to make these connections are the volunteer detectives, whom I joined the ranks of with high hopes this past September. I was assigned my first case, a man in San Francisco looking to reconnect with his friend in Colorado. Using WhitePages, I quickly found the friend’s contact information. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I called her, looking forward to the satisfied feeling I would get once I reconnected the estranged. After introducing myself and telling the friend who I was calling on behalf of, the friend curtly responded:
“I have no desire to reconnect. And don’t tell (client) that I picked up the phone. I don’t want him blowing up on me.”
Immediately I questioned my approach, thinking that I had royally messed up the call. Did I say something wrong? Was I too pushy? Maybe I have a mean voice and I haven’t figured it out until now. I felt bad for the client I had only come to know as a name on a website; for having never met the guy, I sure felt like I had already disappointed him.
Other volunteer detectives reassured me that not all my calls would be like that, and with this chip on my shoulder and a level of hopefulness, I got back to work on a newly assigned case. I did some searching and located the loved one of the client and called, hoping it wouldn’t turn out like the first. I was not that lucky, though:
“How did you get this number?”
“Well, sir, we use Whitepages.”
“Alright well I need everyone at your organization to know to never call me again or let (client) have my contact info. And if anyone else from Miracle Messages does call me or (client) calls me, I’ll know it was you, Andrew, that messed up, and I have your number now.”
Well, dang. Now I know how telemarketers must feel at the end of the day. Maybe I’m just not cut out for this whole “volunteer thing.”
That’s alright, though. Rejection builds character. Plus, it’s not about me; I’m just the middle man in these affairs, and the homeless clients reaching out are facing worse things than an angry person on the phone. Me giving up would be petty and weak. Although those phone calls stung, I was still able to walk away from them and turn to my loved ones for solace (I’m a momma’s boy at heart). I have this luxury, but the people I’m representing do not. I will never be able to experience the conflicts that separated my clients and their loved ones in the first place, but I can recognize that they leave both parties saying “no” to reconnecting. It takes a lot of strength and courage for these clients to move past the anger and stop saying “no.” The least I could do to honor this strength and courage is to say “yes” and keep trying my luck.
I decided to start working on a case in which I had actually met the homeless client, Liz. Liz and I had met at a local event at the LA Public Library. Liz was hesitant yet curious when she approached me at the Miracle Messages booth. She told me she had lost contact with her two brothers after trying to meet up with them at a new address in LA. That had been a year and a half ago.
While this white midwestern boy struggled to spell her Hispanic brothers’ names right on the intake form, Liz loosened up and began to laugh, and I couldn’t help but laugh at my uncultured-ness, too. I asked if she wanted to send a video to her brothers, which scares many people away from our booth. Liz surprised me and said she was eager to send a video.
All it was was one 33 second video. But those 33 seconds taught me a great deal about the work Miracle Messages is doing. Liz spoke in Spanish, so I had no idea what she was saying, but the emotions felt were universal. Liz began to laugh as she was addressing her brothers. Whether it was a sign of relief or an inside joke between siblings, it didn’t matter; what mattered most was that an obvious burden had been lifted from Liz’s shoulders by reaching out. She took the first steps to break the silence, a great act of courage considering it had been a year and a half of silence.
Somehow, some way, I got a “yes.” One of Liz’s brothers contacted me, saying he would like to reconnect with Liz. It felt like I had found the Holy Grail, like all those no’s had never happened. But I’m glad they did.
I don’t want my less-than-ideal experiences to come to define your thoughts on Miracle Messages. There are plenty of success stories with Miracle Messages, everything from phone call connections to actual in-person reunions. But I also don’t want you to view my first few experiences as failures. Sure, I was disappointed initially. In a perfect world, conflicts between family and friends would be overlooked, volunteer detectives’ jobs would be a piece of cake, and everyone would be happy. But the world isn’t perfect. All the no’s as well as all the success stories are part of a complete picture of the world. Those no’s are just there to keep you pushing forward to find a way to reach the “yes.” Although some of the people I spoke to on the phone chose not to reconnect, the clients were still able to take a weight off their shoulders by reaching out. Their call was still received, and the response may happen now, tomorrow, or years down the line.
Miracle Messages’ work is much larger than conflicts over the phone. Scrolling through the organization’s Facebook page, you start to realize how powerful a minute-long video can be. You understand how emotional it can be to break the silence and reach out to those people who know you the best. One of the most powerful things I read on the organization’s page was a quote from a client: “…in this city, a person can find almost anything they need. Food, shelter, etc. What you can’t find is a way to talk to the people you love.” I hope we can move past this “can’t” to reach a “can.”
