Matthew Thomas
I went to Still Waters thinking I was donating an afternoon of my time to some kids in need. I left realizing that I was the great beneficiary of the time we’d spent together; that it was I who had really been in need. What I needed was to spend an afternoon at Still Waters, to fill my heart with a joy the routines of life allow us to forget to feel. A few hours in the presence of those kids could renew anyone’s faith in human ingenuity, creativity, openness, and the possibility of grace in ordinary moments.
What an extraordinary community Stephen Haff and his dedicated team has built. There is a radiant humanity about the whole enterprise, and a beautiful feeling of community. The kids seem to love each other almost as much as they do the staff and volunteers. I say “almost” because I’m not sure what could match the affection they quietly emanated for the adults in the room. It was evident that those kids understood they were in the lap of love.
It’s heartening in the extreme to know that a space like Still Waters exists. It’s refreshing to think of city kids playing the violin, writing poems and stories, painting pictures, and working on their homework in an environment that promotes reflection and allows them to engage the precious resource of their inner thoughts.
And to know that they have a physical space they can call their own, a home away from home, is a lovely thought. The sidewalk in front of Still Waters thrums with life. Even few hundred square feet, when it is populated so fully and so vitally, can come to seem like a whole world.
The experience of reading to them, discussing the selection and answering questions made it clear how safe they felt to engage their intellects. They practiced the patience necessary to sit through a reading, and then generated insightful questions that were full of critical understanding. When it came time for them to write, they moved into the activity with aplomb. The stories they produced took my breath away. They were full of genius, personality, voice, genuine weirdness of the best sort, compassion, and humor. These kids are uncorrupted by prejudices or affectations. They are not held back by the fear of seeming too authentic, too undefended, that plagues adults. They are naturally brave. We can all learn a lesson from them. An afternoon at Still Waters can fill up a reservoir in the soul.