1. Name: Austen Taylor
Site: Siena/Francis House | 1702 Nicholas Street, Omaha, Nebraska 68102
Alumni Club: Omaha, Ms. Angie Kizer
Date: May 12th – July 4th, 2014
Founded in 1975, the Siena/Francis House is Nebraska’s largest shelter and provides emergency overnight
accommodation to men, women, and children. The shelter also provides food to the homeless in concordance with
their Meal Provider Program, clothing, and case management outreach services through their city-supported day
services initiative. Exercising a policy of unconditional acceptance, the Siena/Francis House is dedicated to
providing all of their services to the poor and homeless with the respect and dignity they deserve, including those
viewed as “most difficult to serve” – the chronically addicted and mentally ill homeless persons who may not
currently be in treatment or taking medication. All services are provided at no cost to guests.
As the Notre Dame “intern” my duties for the Siena/Francis House were split between an administrative itinerary
each morning–sealing and sending solicitations, on-site delivery, and other fundraising essentials–followed by lunch
and an afternoon of spontaneous immersion within the shelter and its guests. These activities ranged from desk-
management to preparing and serving dinner, from nighttime perimeters to an unavailing amount of laundry, from
marketing revisions to conversations with the addicted and physically impoverished. My capstone project was the
facilitation and oversight of the annual summer 5k/10k walk-run fundraiser in which we were able to augment over
$60,000 to assist in the shelter’s needs.
Interactions with the staff were empowering and of humbling origins, identifying and of moments authentically
capable and marked with distinction. The Miracles program utilizes the twelve steps, specifically “having had a
spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, carrying the message to alcoholics practicing the principles in all our
affairs.” In summation: I spent the eight weeks working alongside peers in the midst of addiction and could not have
left more changed or less confident in the salvation of the human spirit.
Midway through my experience I had the honor and privilege to attend the annual Omaha Alumni Club dinner. A
night full of reminiscing, cheers, and pride for our lady’s university encapsulated the communion of the Notre Dame
family, its unbounding aspirations and enduring fellowship. Friends I made that night have a continued presence in
my life after Omaha and I greatly anticipate reuniting within the forthcoming weeks.

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Taking the first step on a journey that leads away fromthe security of a family’s support, a summer’s misadventures
and laughs shared among best friends, even the comfort of my own mattress at the end of a long day is nothing to
abrade. I actually think it is quite commendable. Taking the first step to recover from years of alcoholism and
substance abuse is a journey that requires greater courage, humility, and faith than any I have ever encountered.
Each morning when I wipe the night’s shades from my eyes, fumble for the lights, and run an abidingly warm
shower I take a second and reflect on everything I have to accomplish today. And then I amgrateful that I can afford
this luxury, not the bed or the shower, but direction.
When you immerse yourself, body and soul, into a service project it is unrealistic to think that you might come out
unchanged. Living alongside Omaha’s improvised for eight weeks has relieved an initial righteous vigor for the
musings of a deeper and more intimate inner peace. My encounters with poverty, while seeming challenges, were in
truth masqueraded opportunities of passion, each seeking the face of God within the depths of the human soul.
Part One – Then the Quiet Explosion
By the second morning of my eight-week immersion with the Sienna/Francis House I had decided that this summer
was going to challenge my convictions and personal experiences with poverty. These moments of uncomfortable
awkwardness “humble my certitude”1; they speak to my ignorance in the face of dirt-stained, foul-smelling, people
no different than you or me. They wear their shame while the rest of us devote so much time to this grand charade,
hiding within our resources, opportunities, and ever-revealing judgments. I came in with the strategy of casting aside
all assumptions, but that any had to be cast aside exposed a serious flaw in my understanding of this program. The
goals and structure I came in with were a predication of my fear to open myself to the immersion. Many times that
first day I became frustrated by various organizational inefficiencies or the simplistic chores I was assigned, even
more the way my hand was held for tasks of the least significance and most mundane. By the end of the day I was
determined that given six months in charge I could manage the nonprofit into an operation that eliminated idle
expenses and served a greatest capacity of good. Honestly, I probably could. I am more qualified and better skilled
than many of the staff. But that is not the point. Clemens Sedmak speaks to this arrogance; my own certitudes and
self-assurance were blinding me to a “gift” 2 much more simple, delicate, and grand: the experience. And, if you can
believe it, it was within nature, the depths of human virtue and conversation, that I began to rediscover God.
Observe the fineness and marvelous distinction of the various sun-illuminated fabrics into which the waters are
interwoven, the granite so leisurely and unconfused that its veins of color are held in patterns like pieces of
embroidery3, the children innocent, eyes awash and hearts hungering who will perish within the fortnight. The
human condition is all encompassing. Any artist can claim the embodied loveliness within it, but what about the
untouched beauty, wild, obscure, and savage? Christian theology is not so unimaginative; it challenges us to be
uncomfortable, to embrace the vulnerable in an authentic reality that heals, preserves, and remembers the oneness
1 DeBeer, John andKillen,PatriciaO’Connell. The Art of Theological Reflectionpg.5.NewYork: Crossroads, 2005. Print.
2 DeBeer, John andKillen,PatriciaO’Connell. The Art of Theological Reflectionpg.5.NewYork: Crossroads, 2005. Print.
3 Muir, John. “HetchHetchyValley.”The Yosemite. NewYork, 1912. 251. Print.

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that is the interwoven body of Christ. This adagio of the beautiful and unseemingly, married within the mass on the
world, is my understanding of God. I do not see a person, or a force, but this grand relationship whose mystery
comes to fruition only if we can step outside ourselves and make that leap of faith. There is great humility, and
courage, in accepting that sometimes you just need to leave a little to God. Somewhere in my ever-evolving
understanding of the divine there must be a “reflecting ray of divine light”4, or some greater truth or holiness. I
know there is. The best way to remedy the limitations we often see in established belief is conversation. This
conversation at the Francis/Siena House is not discussion, but in the daily actions and attitudes of the residents, all
derived from their own questions and life experiences.
The world is still evolving. Pierre Teilhard would understand preservation of wild beauty and suffering’s mystery
bound with mud as pieces of the mosaic, or offerings to the creative union. All things are gathered into one reality
whose central and formal act is to unite. An immersion is uniting in that it reflects God back to us–there is a piece of
the mosaic in the experience, these individuals, this conversation with a human being, that is not present within me
and in their own way all of creation is participating in God’s grace5, an authentic manifestation of his divine love.
The mass on the world is the “ultimate summation”6, every accomplishment (bread) and every diminishment (wine).
At its heart of this conversation is the body of Christ not fully formed, ever evolving7 for every act that nourishes,
heals, embraces, and saves is one that weaves a more complete and beautiful reality.
Part Two – Bunk B10,Bottom
With the clock ticking, and the weeks blending, I decided to take some inspiration from my roommate, a soon -to-be
resident assistant who lived his SSLP a couple summers ago in downtown Chicago. I arrived for work one Monday
without a phone or wallet, only my resolve to partake in the penultimate recreation. Work was a repetitious droll of
envelope-stuffing, dishes in the mess hall, and the occasional sunbaked wave from a resident outside the window.
Upon its conclusion, and not sure where next, I wandered the streets, sharing a few offbeat conversations with the
other homeless, but otherwise left to my own doings. The growl of my stomach finally put a cease to my wanderings
and I meandered back to campus for supper. Some school-girls from the local Methodist church made for us a fine
feast of chili-mac, pretzel rolls, fresh salad, and some fruit cocktail. How kind of them. After dinner I broke off from
my friends and found a lonely tree amidst the vacant lots and predatory alleys, a quiet place to read my book, this
satirical novel dripping with the sighs of carnal ravaging called Apocalypse Cow. An out-of-van homeless man
parked nearby, opened his doors, and shared the sweet serenades of Led Zeppelin to the kaleidoscopic landscape,
drowned in its anxieties and spirits, which was our shelter for the evening. And under that lonely tree I sat reading
away the evening rays; it must have been such juxtaposition to the riots unfolding just below the horizon. They cried
4 Johnson, Elizabeth.She WhoIs: Chapter1 “ToSpeak RightlyAbout God” pg.9 Ney York: Crossroads, 1998. Print.
5 Jenkins, Willis. “BiodiversityandSalvation: Thomastic Roots for Environmental Ethics.” Ecology,Theology, andJudeo-Christian
Environmental Ethics.February: OxfordUP, 2001. 409. Print.
6 Chardin, Pierre TeilhardDe, andUrsula King. “Livingin the Divine Milieu – TheMass on the World” PierreTeilhardDe Chardin: Writings.
Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1999.80-81. Print.
7 Chardin, Pierre TeilhardDe, andUrsula King. “Discoveringthe Divine in theDepths of BlazingMatter – DiscoveringEvolution.” Pierre
TeilhardDe Chardin: Writings. Maryknoll,NY: Orbis, 1999. 39. Print.

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for justice, pleading for the freedom of Mary Jane to whom they were but martyrs. Fool in the Rain continued its
brief respite from the realities of our predicament.
That night I laid awake for hours to the sounds of men in pain, their laborious breaths damning those of similar
character, and other drunken stupors. Bunk B10, bottom. For the next four nights it was my property, a gift of
secondhand blankets and pillow molested with lice. Do I sound ungrateful? Not at all; my intention was not to seek
out the dirtiest bed within the most festering corner, but rather to be assigned my lot just like everyone else. It
seemed that God spared me the excrement-encrusted blanket for the lights of the staffroomwhich offered protection
as well as prevented sleep. At some point I awoke to the following day.
7:00am Awaken to the overture of floodlights and other sirenous commotions
7:15am Fold blankets and shuffle onwards to a meal of two donuts and a cup of coffee
7:35am Sweep and mop the floors, store the matts, strip the beds, and tear toilet paper
8:50am Communal shower of drip-drop pressure and a 1/8 bar of soap – hold the conditioner
9:00am Begin the official work day and commence administrative duties
11:05am Making veterans invitations with the local nuns in the dayhouse
12:10pm Lunch: chicken sandwich, carp fillet, baked beans, potato salad, and strawberry torte
1:00pm Sorting bread on the dock with Dave and Jeremiah
1:30pm Break-off to install a new phone in the dayhouse (only shocked once)
2:15pm Back on the dock, this time sorting baby clothes
4:00pm Officially check out with my boss in the admin office
4:15pm Start preparing dinner with the girls, no volunteers tonight
6:00pm Beef stroganoff, beets, and a rich helping of brown rice for supper
6:20pm Wander aimlessly
7:50pm Offered to assist at the front desk, man has yet to come back
9:30pm Parameter check with Gary
11:00pm Time for bed – still reading Apocalypse Cow
12:00am Stare at the walls, slipping slowly into madness
1:15am Asleep
At one point during my nomadic driftings I began to approach a park not far from the men’s shelter. On my way I
met a tow-headed man, of rough-build, and seasoned but still withholding the spark of life within his eyes. He asked
if I was lost. I replied, “Not really. Do I stick out that badly?” He smiled: “Only in that you would walk down that
path in broad daylight.” I thanked the man, both for his advice and the knowledge that s ome people still care.
Without any hesitation he responded, “Most still do if you let them.”

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That week, and in truth the entirety of my eight weeks at the shelter, was littered with dialogues like this one, some
just as profound, while others simply reassuring, or even witty. Each morning I awaited eagerly my two donuts
before beginning work, never a word of it spoken to my boss though surely my lack in changed dress, scruffiness,
and sheer exhaustion may have been a giveaway. Those five days were easily the most powerful of my experience,
my most pronounced engagement with the homeless. Upon some reflection however I realized how wanting those
five days still remained. I never once doubted that I would go home, that my family was not counting the days until I
returned back to Indiana, or if today my addiction would finally land me in prison, or in the alley.
I have known all along, but it has taken me up until this week-long experience to truly understand. An immersion is
not about how many people I can elucidate or heal, nor about placing my footsteps into theirs, rather it is “a
conversation between two people”8. This dialogue is a plane deeper than just being with; it speaks to the value we
place in each other as human beings. It is making a place for them at the table that says “share friend” for you are
most welcome.
Part Three – Anthem to the World
On the last Friday of my service project I had the sincerest opportunity to give a reflection of the experiences shared
between myself and the residents, programmers, staff, and vagabonds of the Siena/Francis shelter. In a way it was
my own graduation, from preconceptions and personal convictions to a deeper and more fulfilling insight. Here is
what I had the privilege to share:
[Quieting Down]
Austen Taylor, I’m the intern.
[Laughter ripples amongst the crowd]
Eight weeks ago I embarked on this journey, this service project at the Siena/Francis House. Fresh from university
and having just come off of a very successful sophomore year I had certain convictions and preconceptions about
the nature of serving others. Many told me that this experience was simply about helping others. Sounds noble, but I
did not really buy it, you know? Doing the maximum amount of good in service sounds great but almost
depersonalizes the experience; it transforms people into numbers and seeks to satisfy its own ego.
[Reflective pause]
No, I came out here with a much different purpose. I came not to serve but to instead replicate the experience of
homelessness as best I could to gain some deeper insight. And that’s exactly what I did. For the next five weeks I
sorted bread on the dock, plaid chess in the day house, and found God knows what while stripping beds in the men’s
shelter. But when it came down to it I was still missing something; there was this emptiness that could not be
satisfied. So I decided to take my efforts of homelessness to the next level. Many of you know that one day just a
8 Nouwen, Henri Jim. Ministry andSpirituality: “Ministry to a Hopeless Individual – WaitingforTomorrow” pg. 139. NewYork: Continuum,
1996. Print.

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few weeks ago I finished work and stayed overnight at the shelter. Without any approval or supervision I went about
my daily work one Tuesday and come four o’clock checked out of my admin job and just wandered. I wandered the
streets, read under a tree, took dinner from this Methodist ministry which was quite delicious , and simply waited
until that night when the rays were falling before I checked into the shelter…on the wet side.
[Dramatic pause]
The night passed pretty uneventfully. I came away with quite a few stories, some appropriate and others that I’ll
have to tell you another time. [Wink] What I found, however, was that this absence was still there and undefined. So
I said alright tonight I’ll try sleeping on the dry side and see where that gets me. Went through the day’s motions and
that’s what I did. I slept quite a bit better, yet the absence still persisted. Running out of options I thought, “well
maybe I should check out the women’s side and see what that’s all about...”
[Cheering erupts from the women’s table]
Before I took that step I thought that I might try a night in my car. And let me tell you that it was the most terrifying
of my time since coming to Omaha. You see, it was not fear, but loneliness that was so pervasive. And, you know,
that is when I finally figured it out. A service immersion is not about helping the most people, or replicating the
experience of homelessness – truly you cannot; I and my family were once homeless and with it comes a prevailing
and unavailing uncertainty. In the end I discovered that this experience is about the people. The moments I have
shared with so many incredible and inspirational people are the takeaway. This is not about what you can you learn
from me, or I you, but the visions our stories share. When a person can look me in the eyes I know these open
encounters are the reason for my immersion.
[Stillness]
And with that realization comes another disheartening and approaching reality; my time here is just about up. Last
week was very emotional in that we had a few relapses, as well as some very uplifting graduations. Life’s funny in
that these wonderful people walk into your life and then, just as you’re getting attached and seeing themtruly , they
are gone. And it quickly dawned upon me that I am no different. Soon I will be gone and life will go on at the
Siena/Francis House just as it always has. It seems sad, but then I think of all the people who have touched my heart
within the past eight weeks. I cherish each and every one of you, and what you stand for along with the mission of
this truly inspirational place. Life is understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards. While the names may be
forgotten, the moments shall be forever remembered. And now I must be going; it’s time to move on. I am so
grateful for the opportunity to hear your stories and just maybe you took something away frommine. Thanks for all
the adventures – I pray that the ones to come are just as lasting.
[A standing ovation to a voracious fanfare of “Austen” and “Notre Dame”]
In that single moment I was alive and felt truly infinite. The above script is a verbatim remembrance of the speech I
gave that morning off of a recording one of my friends took. I had spent the days leading up to it rehearsing, but
could not have been more amazed by such a reception. Upon reading this week’s selections and further reflection I

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was astounded by the parallels between my own contemplation of this experience and Hollenbach’s metho d for
educating the heart. Quite simply: I was able to “develop the courage to dare great things only upon experiencing the
possibility of achievement in my life and within the lives of others”9.
Part Four – From Omaha with Love
My last adventure in the serendipitous scene of Omaha was spent with my uncle at the country club he manages for
their 4th of July extravaganza. We are talking about a twenty-thousand carnival, rides and food and other festivities,
all in anticipation of a ten-thousand dollar firework show. The whole spectacle was ostentatiously grand. What
might have been unsettling in juxtaposition to my experiences at the shelter was in fact a momentous escapade from
the reality awaiting just twelve hours and five-hundred miles away. We toured the course in his personal golf-cart,
and then had a feast waiting for us in his office overlooking the celebrations. I shall miss my uncle and the many
people I have come to cherish in Omaha, a city with so much character and unabridged generosity. Yo u really have
to be there to know what I am taking about. That evening was my last to share appreciation for all the many
adventures my friends and family had afforded me since arriving. The gratitude was unspoken, but not unsaid. As
the fireworks began, I could only salute this proud city and its humble people: Here’s to you Omaha; by the grace of
God I hope to return one day.
9 Hollenbach, David. Justice, Peace, andHumanRights. Courage andPatience: Educationfor StayingPower in Pursuit of Justice, pg. 221-25.
New York: Crossroads, 1988. Print.