PHILLY FILINGS

Final Blog plus One!

2010-06-30T19:11:00.002-04:00

I know, I know....Last week was supposed to be Thea and my last blog, and, when I wrote mine, I thought it would be the last one. By last Thursday evening, I was in "advanced wind-down" mode: Thea and I would be leaving for home on Saturday and I was working my penultimate meal. Then, a true miracle occurred. Here's how it happened.

I was doing one of my favorite jobs -- lineup. It involves organizing our guests in a line and sending them into the dining room in an orderly fashion. Since it was nearly my last day of work, many of the guests greeted me, saying how much they had enjoyed getting to know Thea and I over the past 10 months. It was a really nice experience, and the evening was flowing along well. By 5:30, the line was beginning to shorten up when, all at once, I saw a striking young women enter the yard. She was very beautiful, dressed very nicely, and, obviously to my eye, was a prostitute, but she was not one of our neighborhood's "working girls". In fact, I had never seen her before.

As she approached the head of the line, I thought how sad it was for such a beautiful, apparently intelligent, young women to be "on the street". I imagined her father/mother grieving for her and the life she had chosen. As she approached the head of the line, I examined her closely -- she was drowsy, very drowsy, and in fact was almost falling asleep on her feet -- a sure sign of heroin.
She got to the second position in line. In a few seconds, I knew that I would be sending her in to eat. All at once, "little voice" inside of me that I often hear at critical times said "You must do something about this. This is your chance to help this girl -- do it, RIGHT NOW!"

Feeling a little embarrassed, I bent down to her (she was much shorter than I), looked her in the eye and said: "You are too pretty and young to be living like this. You must get off the street." She began to cry and between sobs said: "I know, I want to get off the street. I want to get into a rehab program." I asked her: "Are you ready to do it now?" She said, "Yes", and I told her that my name was Mark and that she should come see me after she finished eating. I sent her into the dining room. The whole encounter had taken, what, maybe 45 seconds.

About 20 minutes later, she emerged from the dining room and walked right up to me. In the interim, I had consulted with Karen, the St. Francis Inn's staff lawyer, who advised me to take the young women to the Worker's Clinic up the street. Since I was busy with line up job, I asked one of the FVMs -- Leo -- to escort her to the clinic. He did, but after a few minutes, the little voice was back: "Go to the clinic and be with her", it told me. "She needs your help."

And so I went to the clinic and found the young women sitting on a bench, waiting to be seen.
I went to Mary Beth, head of the clinic, and explained the situation. Then, I sat next to the young women. I asked her: "What is your name?". "Courtney". "How old are you?" "27". "What drug are you on right now?" "Heroin." "How did you end up here?" Through tears, she explained that she was a college graduate with a nursing certification and that she had been living with her mother. Things were going OK, but then, her mother unexpectedly died, and unable to cope, Courtney had turned to drugs. For the past few months, she'd been "bouncing around" in various homes of friends, semi-friends, and acquaintances. Several weeks ago, she had run into "an old man friend" who said that he would "help her". The "help" turned out to be a night job working the streets. "How did you get away?" I asked. "I told him I was going out to the store, and I just kept walking. I walked a long way." " How did you find the St. Francis Inn", I asked. She replied, "I was really hungry. I asked some of the street people where I could find food, and they directed me to the Inn. I have never been there before this evening." Then she said something chilling: "If I had stayed with that man, I was a dead woman!"

The story rang true to me. Thea and I had gone to a seminar at St. Joseph's University in February on human trafficking, and knew that there were many young women in similar situations in Philly. The Kensington neighborhood was specifically mentioned as a center for this activity, and, we had been asked to be "on the lookout" for young women in trouble. I realized that, subconsciously, I had been doing exactly that.

By now, it was about 6:15 and Courtney was taken upstairs to be interviewed. She was gone a long time and then Johanna, one of the medical staff who had interviewed Courtney, came down and motioned me to the back of the clinic. Johanna said:"In all my years at this clinic, I have never met such a delightful young women. She's beautiful, educated, and well mannered, but she is at a critical moment in her life. We have got to get her into a detox facility this evening. If we wait until tomorrow, she may change her mind, and the opportunity will be lost."

The clinic would be closing in ten minutes, and I knew that Thea and I had dinner plans with Karen. BUT, someone had to help Courtney. Left to her own devices, she would soon be back out on the street. And so, I called Thea on the cell phone, explained the situation, and asked her and Karen to meet Courtney and me at the entrance to the clinic. About 15 minutes later, we were heading the to the detox center about two miles from the Inn.

One of the centerpieces of our national medical overhaul debate has to do with universal coverage and the availability of medical care to those in need. I saw this firsthand with Courtney. When we tried to check her into the detox center, she was rejected, EVEN THOUGH SHE HAD INSURANCE! Unfortunately, it was a company that this facility did not do business with. Undaunted, Karen, Thea, and I drove her into downtown Philly to the Jefferson Hospital ER. Courtney had been there six month before -- also for drug treatment -- and we knew that she should still be in the system.

When we arrived -- by now it was 8 PM on a Thursday night -- the ER was in full swing. There were, perhaps, 100 people waiting to be seen. Using my best administrator's voice, but aware that the Triage Nurse was being bombarded from all sides by needy people, I explained the situation. The nurse typed in Courtney's name, and if by magic, her insurance information came up and we were admitted to the ER. As we sat there, Courtney said, "You are all angels. I can't thank you enough for staying with me and bringing me here."

Within a few minutes, one of the Intake nurses took Courtney into an interview room. After about 10 minutes, the door opened and the Nurse motioned me inside. Based on Courtney's story, the hospital would take her in for the night and in the morning, evaluate her and (perhaps) place her in a detox center. After getting a promise from the Intake Nurse that Courtney would not be put out on the street that night, I gave Courtney a hug and left. Amidst her tears, she told me: "I can never repay what you have done for me tonight." I scribbled my phone number on a piece of scrap paper, told her to call me if I could help further, and then Karen, Thea, and I went to dinner -- about two hours later than originally planned!

Over the meal, I asked Karen what she thought Courtney's chances were. Karen replied that, given the fact that Courtney had not been on the street long and that her addiction was relatively short, she might have "as high as a 50/50 chance" of escaping from this life style. "Most of the prostitutes", Karen said, "are so dependent on drugs that there is virtually no chance of escaping."

I went to bed that evening, praying that God would be with Courtney, and that He would give her the strength to go through the detox process and to turn her life around. At 11:30 PM, my cell phone rang. It was the Psychiatrist at Jefferson Hospital, asking if I could give her any additional information on Courtney. I told the doctor what little I knew, and she told me that Courtney would probably be admitted to one of their rehab programs the next day. I thanked the doctor and tried to go back to sleep with limited success.

Thea and I worked at the Inn on Friday and then left for NC on Saturday. The weekend was filled with seeing our daughter Angela and her family and with the baptism of our newest granddaughter, Reese. By Sunday afternoon, we were back home and dealing with all the homecoming issues -- AC not working, unpacking boxes of household items, and, in general, getting our Hickory lives started again. Even as I worked on the household chores, Courtney was never far from my mind. I prayed for her every day and wondered where she was. Had the hospital admitted her to the rehab program? Had she stayed or given up and gone back out on the street? Would I ever learn what happened to her?

Then, this afternoon (Wednesday), the most remarkable thing happened: I got a voicemail from Courtney! She thanked me again for what I had done for her and left me a return telephone number. I called back and eventually reached her. She's finishing up her detox -- the heroin withdrawal was horrible -- and tomorrow will go to a rehab center for a (minimum) two week treatment. She told me that, although she'd failed the last time in her attempt to get off drugs, this time she would make it. "I want to go back to school, get married, and have a family", she told me. "This is my last chance." And then she said, "None of this would have happened without you, Mark. I owe all of this to you." We agreed to stay in touch; I encouraged her to establish a support system of friends to help her during this critical time; we exchanged contact information; and I rang off.

Will Courtney be successful this time in breaking her addiction to drugs? I don't know. Will she be able to turn her life around and reach her goals of being a nurse, wife, and mother. I don't know that either. Will we stay in touch and will I be able to support her from afar? Don't know that either.

But I do know this: truly the Lord worked through me last Thursday night to give this young woman another chance at life. I pray that she will take it. And I feel so thankful, joyful, and elated that God would choose me to be, in this small way, His hands, feet, and arms. One final comment: isn't it amazing that when we least expect it, He comes. I mean, I had been at St. Francis Inn for upwards of 300 days and it was on the next to last one -- when I was practically out the door -- that this miracle happened.

God surely does work in mysterious ways!

Final Blog-Mark

2010-06-24T22:02:00.001-04:00

Friday will be Thea and my last working day at the St. Francis Inn, and Saturday, after going to one final Mass, we will leave Philadelphia to return to our “normal” life in Hickory. As the end of our ten-month stay here rapidly approaches, it is probably a good time for me to do an evaluation of the experience.
Our stay here has been wonderful. I have grown spiritually and emotionally, and it is sad to think that this chapter in our lives will soon be over. I have benefitted from the regular schedule, a life of service, and the presence of other committed team members and volunteers. While it is true that the work we have done here is mainly menial (washing dishes, cleaning bathrooms, bagging bread, and the like), the fact that we are doing these tasks to help others has made a great difference. As I mopped floors or swept the trash up in the Inn’s yard, I can honestly say that I was offering up those menial tasks to God and to His service. For sure there was also the perfectionism element that is present in everything I do: I certainly wanted it to be the very cleanest yard on the entire street, or wanted me to be the fastest dishwasher the Inn’s staff had ever seen!!! However, perhaps for the first time in my life, I was involved in situations where the main goal was service to others, without any possibility of advancement (financial, promotion, prestige) for me. This was very freeing and gratifying to me. It was a privilege to be able to serve others without the possibility of being paid back.
But, of course, we WERE paid back in countless ways. There was the incredible peace and satisfaction of knowing in your heart that you are being God’s instrument. When I would tell one of our guests that I would pray for him or her, I meant it and always followed through. There were a number of instances when I encountered a guest in crisis and was able to offer at least a word or sympathetic presence that, I believe, helped him or her get through. I don’t want to emphasize that too much. Compared to the core team members, most of whom have been here twenty years or more, Thea and I could not address most of the needs of guests beyond basics. However, we did what we could and gave freely of the talents we had, and that felt good.
Our time here has taught me a lot about others and about myself. When Thea and I first drove into the Kensington neighborhood, I was frightened. I looked upon the “street people” as blobs who slept on my doorstep or as threatening, sinister people to be avoided. Over the past months, I have learned that “street people” are just that – PEOPLE. Each of them has a story, often sad, frequently linked to drugs or alcohol abuse, and each of them is precious in the sight of the Lord. I now see that each of these “blobs” is just a valuable to God as Thea and I are. We are no better or worse than they – we have simply had more breaks along the way and now are called to give back, in thanksgiving for what God has done for us, to others who are less fortunate.
I have learned that the homeless in Kensington are just like any other population of people: some are wonderful; others are nice; and still others are bad news. Most say “Thank you” and “God Bless You” when we serve them, but others can be exceedingly irritating and demanding --- sort of like my family members or museum boards (just kidding!!!)
I have been truly inspired by the St. Francis charism and by the core team members here. Beginning with Brother Xavier (28 years) through Fr. Michael (23 years) and Sisters Mary and Leslie (22 years) and to the lay team members Barbara (20 years), Karen (19 years) and Judy (8 years), their level of commitment and service is unbelievable. They are true saints on earth – each caring for the guests in different ways and using their gifts to ease the pain and suffering of others. Like any community, the team is a mixture of personalities from the very organized (Mary, Leslie, Fred) to the more relaxed and spontaneous (Fr. Michael, Br. Xavier). On numerous occasions I have seen these team members hold their tongues and curb their natural tendencies to follow the leadership of another team member with a different style. I can tell you from personal experience that this is difficult to do: it is difficult to “die to self” so that the overall task may be accomplished in a manner that is acceptable to all.
This has been, perhaps, the best lesson of all for me. When we first arrived at the Inn, I approached the jobs we were given to do in the same way that I ran two science centers: we are organized; we move quickly, efficiently using checklists; and we utilize the talents of those around us to the maximum benefit. AND, we always say “Thank you!” and “Good job!” even if the person did a poor job.
Looking back, I have to smile – at least I got the last part – saying “Thanks” and “Good Job!” right! Most of the time, my emphasis on the tasks was important, but my nurturing of our volunteers (many of whom were students, young and inexperienced) was more important. Having them leave the Inn with a positive feeling about their experience was paramount, and I learned, over time, to insure that this happened.
So, in the end, Mark became a “kinder, gentler” team member, more prone to compliment, less inclined to criticize, and more aware of all of God’s blessings in my life. Add in the fact that I came here with lingering prostate cancer and a serious GI infection and am leaving in the peak of health, I would have to say that it has been a GREAT year.
God bless all of you who have faithfully read our blogs over the past ten months: we love all of you!

Final Blog-Thea

2010-06-24T22:01:00.001-04:00

In the “Wizard of Oz,” before Dorothy taps her heels and returns home, Glinda the Good Witch asks her what she has learned. In this final blog, I (Thea) want to share with you what I learned in my 10 months at the St. Francis Inn.
First of all, I learned that voluntary poverty is not so bad. Yes, it was really hot the last month without air conditioning. But I taught for years in Florida without AC and we lived without it for a number of years in our house. When we own things, the things end up owning us. We had only one car, and we only used it on our day off when we went to New Jersey for birding. Otherwise, we walked or took public transportation everywhere. We had no yard to concern us, got our books from the library and bread, desserts and some meat and vegetables from the Inn. We had to decide each week what we would do with our money, and we couldn’t do everything. For example, if we went out to eat, half of our week’s money would be blown, and that meant little money for gas or food. So we had to prioritize our wants and look for free activities in the city. Planning what to do with our free time was an event in itself. However, our poverty was VOLUNTARY. Our guests sometimes are not just without air conditioning, but have no electricity. We had the luxury of one car; they walked from the bus stop with canes and walkers. My challenge upon returning to Hickory is going to be living more simply so that resources can be available to others in our country and elsewhere.
By living next door to the Inn, we were surrounded by poor and homeless people both day and night. The effect of being poor and serving our brothers and sisters is far different from driving in from a middle class neighborhood and doing service. Barricades are removed and I found that I was much more empathetic with those in need, as well as they were more trusting of me. I learned there really is such a thing as “ministry of presence.” I hope I can avoid an “us and them” mentality in the future.
Secondly, I found that making systemic change among the urban poor is really hard. The reasons that people are coming to the Inn are as varied as the individuals themselves. Some are addicts, some mentally ill, some have serious illnesses or physical disabilities. If the people were plugged into the social service infrastructure of Philadelphia, it was still difficult for them to get to their appointments on time using public transportation or even call for appointments. The people who were supposed to help them were overworked at best, and apathetic at worst. One of my frustrations during my time at the Inn was that I was not instructed as to the resources available in the community, so if I did encounter someone with needs, I rarely knew where they were to be referred. Several of the Team at the Inn did have this knowledge, and they were generally the ones who took care of the office during the day and could assist the guests as far as the system allowed. When people are powerless and undereducated, they need an advocate who can help them navigate through the labyrinth of agencies.
Thirdly, I realized that the opposite of love is not hate, but fear. When people don’t know anyone who is poor or homeless, they are afraid of them and avoid them out of fear. The same rule applies to people of different races, ethnicities and faiths. Because of my experience here, I will never look at a homeless person in the same way. If people had the opportunity to spend time with those they fear, like immigrants, Muslims, liberals or conservatives, we would not be hearing the harsh diatribes that currently beset the political scene.
Fourth, I found out that many people have a generous spirit and want to help those less fortunate. The Team here is motivated to serve because of their belief in Jesus. But they want to invite others to share in their ministry and give others an opportunity to come into contact with the poor. I was heartened by the hundreds of volunteers who personally came by the Inn to serve the meals during our time here. There were countless other benefactors who donated everything the Inn uses from bread to cakes to fresh produce to dishwashing liquid. Others prayed for the needs of the Inn. It was always amazing to me (and this shows my own lack of faith) that when we were totally out of diapers or needed hot dog rolls for a meal with hot dogs, that the doorbell would ring and the needed item would be there. The many people who read our blogs and sent encouraging messages, packages to the Inn, cash donations or came in person to work have all contributed to helping the poor of Kensington.
Finally, I leave here with a sense of gratitude I never had before. I took for granted the gifts God had given me. Oh, I gave thanks for my health and the fact I always had a job, but I now see that nothing I have is my own. Everything, from my house, to my organizational skills, to my ability to teach things to people, all have been given to me by the generosity of God. It was extremely humbling to me to know that I was not in charge of my life. My response to God’s love for me has to be greater love for other people. How I am going to engage in this response is still not clear to me, but I will be open to what presents itself to me when I return home.

Going Away Dinner

2010-06-23T15:46:00.003-04:00

In lieu of our regular community meal, our friends at the Inn treated us to a dinner Monday night at the Spaghetti Warehouse. Fr. Michael read a hilarious poem he wrote about the "failed man," relating how Mark had tried to get everyone to be financially organized and have a budget. They presented us with gifts including a San Damiano cross (a replica of the one in the church in Assisi) and a framed photograph of the mural that is on the back wall of the St. Francis Inn, as shown in the picture above. It will be a wonderful reminder of our service here. As our time grows shorter, we are trying to withstand the heat, clean all the appliances, and pack. In addition, they are extracting their last pound of flesh from us--Mark was a coordinator yesterday morning, I coordinated the evening shift, Mark coordinated again this evening, and I will be assistant cook tomorrow while he does pickups. Friday we both will be at the Inn, just helping get everything ready for the meal. After a stop in Raleigh Saturday night, we will be home on Sunday.

Cooking for 321

2010-06-18T04:13:00.003-04:00

I (Thea) decided last week that before I left, I wanted to be the cook for a meal. I have been assistant cook about 30 times this year, and in some cases even given the task to finish cooking when the cook had to leave early. I asked for my assignment to be on a "long" day, so that I would have plenty of time to prepare, and also when there were enough volunteers available so that I would have help with chopping and clean up.

When the schedule came out on Monday, and I was assigned as the cook for the Thursday meal. My first task was to go into the freezer and see what sort of meat and frozen food was available. There was a large amount of Italian sausage and lots of frozen french fries, so I decide to make sausage, pepper and onions, fries, fruit cocktail, and have optional tossed salad for those who like a healthier side dish. Of course, there would also be dessert and drink.

Wednesday I got the meat out to thaw and started looking at the bread as it arrived for suitable rolls. Early Thursday I laid out the cutting boards and peppers, so that as soon as Mass was over I could get started. I had two high school juniors, Maggie and Grace, as my sous chefs. We spent about two hours chopping the peppers and onions, unpacking the meat, and mixing the canned fruit for the fruit cocktail. I have been working at the Catholic Workers garden in our neighborhood, and the head gardener brought me several beautiful heads of leaf lettuce, just picked Thursday morning. It was enough for 100 side salads.

I had no idea how long the fries needed to be cooked, or at what temperature, so around 2:00 I put a pan of fries in the oven. Maggie's job was to do a taste test every 3 minutes starting with 12 minutes to determine when the fries were cooked through. It seemed 25 minutes were necessary. Also at 2 I began frying the peppers and onions in the tilt skillet. Once they were finished, I started frying the sausage. I wanted to have 200 sausages fried by the time the meal began at 4:30. In between frying, I had Maggie and Grace get the "side doors" ready--take out orders of the meal for guests that weren't allowed to eat inside or that had family members that couldn't come to the Inn for the meal.

I had 3 goals for the meal. First, I wanted the guests to have tasty food that they would like. A good indication of the quality of the meal is what is returned on the plate to the dishwasher. I could tell virtually no meat or fries were being rejected. Secondly, I wanted to have enough food for the guests. I had predicted 325 guests; we had 321. I had actually cooked 370 sausages, so I knew I was safe. Thirdly, I wanted to be able to keep up for the demand for food throughout the meal. Doing this can be tricky, because I wanted to keep serving hot food rather than cook everything ahead and then serve it. I wanted the food at 5:45 to be as fresh and hot as the food at 4:30. I was able to accomplish that goal as well.

Because I had made so much extra food, I decided to put some of the leftovers into takeout bowls and distribute it to guests at the end of the meal. Apparently the meal was too popular and a very large crowd assembled when it was announced there would be "seconds." At this point I only had Maggie as my assistant, and we were working as fast as we could to get the food to the door for distribution. However, by 6:08 the 25 take out bowls were on a cart to be given out. The only thing left to do was to clean the multitude of pans I had used and get the tilt skillet back to its original pristine condition.

I thanked my assistants, then went home and ate my supper. It was NOT sausage, pepper and onions!

"Final" Fundraising Report

2010-06-15T15:04:00.002-04:00

This is my "penultimate" blog. A week from Saturday, Thea and I will be leaving St. Francis Inn and returning to our "real lives" back in Hickory. Each of us is planning to do one last blog next week evaluating our time here, and so you have that to look forward to (Be still my beating heart......!). However, before my "swan song", I did want to give you an accounting of our fundraising efforts, to date.

You will remember that I was appointed to the Franciscan Volunteer Ministries (FVM) Associate Board last fall. The program has been supported for 20 years by the Holy Name Province of Franciscan Friars, but because of the economic downturn, the Province had to cut its funding by $75,000 per year. Fortunately, there was a budget surplus in the FVM's account which will get it (barely) through the 2009/2010 fiscal year ending on June 30th.

Upon its formation last summer, the Associate Board was charged with two tasks. First, we had to initiate a fundraising effort where none existed before. This is not a trivial matter. The Friars definitely have adopted St. Francis' attitude that "God will provide" and for 20 years have depended entirely on charity, and more than that, have NEVER asked directly for money. Obviously, that would now have to change. Second, the Associate Board would obviously have to try to raise $75,000 (minimum) to keep the FVM program going during the 2010/11 fiscal year (beginning on July 1st).

My first Board meeting was in January, and I was surprised to learn that not much had been done to address either of these issues. Yes, the board had met in September and had discussed various ideas, but no one had moved forward with any of them. After I got over my surprise, I realized that this was a perfect calling for me. (Father Michael put it another way: "God has sent you to us in our hour of need!") As various ideas were presented or reviewed from previous meetings, I would immediately challenge people (tactfully) with a question like: "OK, sounds like a good idea. Who would like to take this on, and what is our first step in the process?" This helped to focus the discussion. At the end of the meeting, I asked: "So, what is our list of "to-do's" for the next meeting and who's responsible for each?"

It took a couple of meetings, but fairly quickly, the board organized a letter writing campaign to alumni of the FVM program. Father Michael (kicking and screaming!) signed the letters and wrote personal notes to each recipient. (Father absolutely HATES asking for money! He views it as "un-Franciscan", whatever that means.) At the March Board meeting, one of our members made a challenge grant of $12,000 --- if we could raise $12,000, he would give $12,000. Everyone was really excited now: we just needed to get going.

Next, I teamed up with another member of the Associate Board member to give a half-day fundraising seminar to train key staff and FVM alums on the art of asking for money. We gave our "FVM: Survive and Thrive Day" on Saturday, April 10th. At the end of the session, each of 16 participants committed to writing letters and calling their contacts. Phase I of our fundraising was done. I waited a couple of weeks before asking Katie Sullivan, our FVM Program Director, if we'd gotten any responses. "Why yes", she responded, "so far we've gotten in $2600!"
I was amazed, because you have to remember that most of the FVM alums are, by definition, poor. They work in the non-profit sector or for churches/Catholic schools. To raise $2600 in only two weeks from this group was phenomenal.

Our next task was to solicit the FVM Associate Board itself. Encouraged by our success with the alums, I ghost wrote a letter for Sister Kathleen, the Chair, and sent it out. Finally, I wrote ten letters to my family, Thea's family, and our immediate friends. As I mailed the letters, I said a silent prayer because this was new territory for me. In all my years of fundraising, I had never directly asked my family or Thea's family for money.

In mid-May, I got a wonderful surprise. The Maryvale Sisters had organized a "walk-a-thon" at the daycare to benefit the St. Francis Inn's FVM Program. Sister Mary Norman had told me in February that this would be happening, but I had really forgotten about it. On May 21st, we received a large envelope (registered mail, no less!) from Maryvale. I wondered why the Sisters were writing us. Upon opening it, we found delightful pictures of the "walk-a-thon" plus a check for $4,232! "Holy smokes, I thought. Every child must have walked 10 miles to raise that kind of money." Thea and I were astonished.

I took the check over to the FVM office. After the "hooting and hollering" was over, I asked Katie if we'd gotten any responses to our various mailings and she coyly said "Father Michael wants to wait until the Board meeting (scheduled for June 10th) before we give out the numbers!"

So, I waited in suspense. I wondered if the alums were continuing to send money. I wondered if the Associate Board (other than Thea and I who, of course, had sent our check the day we received our letter!!) would give. I wondered if my friends and family would respond (or if, for that matter, they were still speaking to me.)

Finally, the day arrived for the Associate Board meeting. We reviewed all of the fundraising plans to date, dealt with some governance issues, some accounting issues, and then some scheduling issues for future meetings. Finally, the moment arrived when the fundraising report was handed out. Breathlessly, we looked at the numbers:

From FVM Alums: 21 gifts totaling $4470
From Associate Bd.: 10 gifts totaling $1877
From "Friends" of Alums and Board members: 26 gifts totaling $8,933
From Matching Gift: $12,000
From Father Michael's "contacts" and family: $45,600

TOTAL: $72,880

And the campaign continues!!! We have lots more planned including pulpit talks at Franciscan parishes, home parties, and even a special event. These will, we hope, insure the sustainability of the FVM program for not only next year but many years into the future.

To all of you who responded to me (I received 8 "yeses" from my 10 letters!), I say a heartfelt "Thank you!" To all of the Associate Board members and to the FVM alums who gave generously, I tip my hat.

But to Father Michael who HATES fundraising, I say: "I am never going to believe you again!!!!"

....just kidding!

The Block Party

2010-06-13T19:56:00.003-04:00

For the past few weeks, the guests have been asking "When is the block party?" Under pain of excommunication, all of us have been sworn to secrecy and have answered, "Sometime this summer." Today was the long-awaited event. Right after Mass, all of the staff plus a group from western Pennsylvania and some local volunteers went out into the street. We blocked the end of the street with sawhorses and put all of the tables from the dining room into the street. Father Pat, a friar from Greenville, SC arrived with some parish teenagers and set up his sound system. He was our deejay for the day. Mark drove to Boston Market to pick up 600 pieces of barbecue chicken and cornbread. We also had potato salad, watermelon, ice cream sandwiches and soda. At 11:30 we opened up for food and the music began. Some of the guests would rather dance than eat. And dance they did--to old time rock and roll, the Macarena, electric slide, the twist, Michael Jackson imitations to "Thriller" and even to the chicken dance.

In addition to the food and music, we had face painting, pony rides for the children, clowns, floating duck game and a water balloon toss. About 2:30 the rain came down, but it didn't end the party. People kept on dancing in the rain or standing under the tents set up along the street. It actually helped to cool us down since the temperature was over 90 with the humidity factor.

What was so cool about the day was to see all the guests and the staff having so much fun. The friars and sisters were dancing with the guests, the young college students were playing hula hoops with the children, the friar deejay was involving lots of people in the music, and 92 year old Patrick was passing out forks and napkins. St. Francis Inn is always a beacon of hope here in Kensington, but for a few hours this Sunday, the entire street was transformed into a festival where all of God's children could have fun together.

Addiction and God

2010-06-10T20:18:00.003-04:00

Since we only have two weeks before we depart, Mark and I are going through hundreds of pictures we have stored on our computer. We are trying to put together a slide show that will "tell the story" of our 10 months here at the Inn. As we looked at pictures of the guests, we realized that there were several key people that we had not photographed. Slowly, we are taking their pictures as we serve the evening or morning meals.
One of the things we are trying to do is have pictures of individuals that represent the various categories of guests. There are the senior citizens, who come here to get a hot meal, stretch their limited social security checks, and interact with other people. There are the families, mostly headed by single moms, who are trying to supplement their food stamp money. We have some of the single men who are working poor--day laborers, delivery men, restaurant workers and others who are not in a union and may not be working 40 hour weeks.
By far, the largest category of the guests is that of addicts. So many of the people we serve are addicted to alcohol or drugs, usually heroin and/or cocaine. For example, yesterday a young man was sitting on our steps. I was exiting the house on my way to the Inn to get some aluminum foil. He jumped up and stood aside. When I returned, he asked if it was okay for him to sit on the steps. I told him it was fine, and thanks for asking. He then complimented me on the way I had held my temper when a woman had berated me while I was doing the lineup the day before. I mentioned that the guests had been a little wild that day, and perhaps it was due to the heat. He responded by saying that the heat did cause behavioral changes. I could tell from his speech that he was an educated person and asked him about it. He told me his name was Frank, that he was a graduate of Rutgers, and he had recently completed a drug rehab program. He had goals and plans that he had made during his time in the program. He thought he would be able to stay with his mother and get back on his feet. Unfortunately, she had not taken him in, and he had been on the street for 7 days. Without any support, he had slipped right back into his drug habit of heroin. He hoped to go back to the drug rehab and start again.
I told him I would pray for him, and he said that would be very good.
We have heard this same scenario so many times during our stay. Sometimes the addict is a young woman who left home, began using cocaine or heroin, and supports her habit as a prostitute. It could be a veteran who came back from the battlefield, couldn't find work, and began spending his days drinking. Or it might be a young man like Frank who started taking drugs in college as recreation, but soon found that his whole life was focused on the next fix.
What sort of ending is there for these stories? A few have happy endings; the addicts get in a program, go to meetings of AA, move away from Kensington, get a job, live one day at a time. Others are sober for a few days, a few months, even years, and then an event occurs that triggers a return to the drug or alcohol. After some period of time, they start all over again. Unfortunately, more than a few end up dying from an overdose, AIDS, liver failure, or violence.
Every day at Mass, someone prays for the addicts of Kensington. I can only add my prayers to theirs.

Gratefulness and Generosity

2010-06-06T09:28:00.004-04:00

This morning at Mass, Father Michael preached on the gospel of the feeding of the 5000. It's a really familiar story, one that all of us can recite from memory, but, as usual, Father brought out facets of the scripture that I hadn't thought of.

He began with the difference between Christ's view of the world and that of the apostles. Faced with the problem of feeding a massive crowd with so few resources (5 loaves and 2 small fish), the apostles despaired. They focused on the negative: how can we feed so many people with so little food? It's impossible! We need to get these people out of here and have them get food for themselves. We wash our hands of this problem!

Christ, on the other hand, gave thanks for what had been provided -- the very same loaves and fish dismissed as insufficient by His followers -- and the rest is history. The gifts at hand, appreciated and treasured for their goodness, were multiplied beyond all "reasonable" expectations. It's the same story with all of us. In life, God provides us with all manner of talents, resources and gifts as well as some faults and imperfections. We can either look at our glass as "half empty" or "half full". It's our choice, but clearly the Lord would prefer that we take the latter approach, just as He did.

Father's second point concerned generosity. Most of us, when faced with a shortage, choose to hoard. When the economy takes a dive, we reduce our charitable giving. When there was a gas shortage in America, what did all of us do? That's right, we rushed out and filled up all of our cars, even if we weren't actually planning on going anywhere. If we have too little food, we certainly don't hand out what we have to the poor -- we go shopping to replenish and refill "our barns with grain", just like the rich man in the scripture. Certainly, it's "natural" to provide for oneself first -- or is it? When Jesus was faced with the prospect of feeding 5000 people with only 5 loaves and 2 fish, he not only gave thanks for the resources, he GAVE EVERYTHING AWAY! Unbelievable, but true....and look what happened, his generosity was rewarded so that at the end of the meal, the scraps filled 12 baskets.

What would the world be like if all of us truly took to heart these two lessons? Or, better yet, what would it be like if I took to heart these two lessons? Change begins with all of us individually. This week, I resolve to be more grateful for all the blessings I have and more generous in gifting them to others.

In the Heat of the Night (and Day)

2010-06-01T09:44:00.002-04:00

It has been very hot here--in the 90's every day for 5 days. Since there is no air conditioning in the staff housing nor in the Inn, it is an effort to be energetic. We are not sleeping well because it is so hot, and the guests are probably sleeping even less than we are. As a result, tempers are short. The guests complain about standing in line to eat, standing in line to go to the bathroom, and in the case of those staying in shelters, standing in line to get a bed at night. Sunday a fight broke out during the meal in the dining room. The men involved were both mentally ill, and Mark and Father Michael quickly separated the two and escorted the initiator out of the building. Nevertheless, it disrupted an otherwise tranquil meal.
As the weather has warmed, there seems to be more needy people, and also more crime taking place. This past Sunday, someone went upstairs during the meal and stole the bags of Sr. Mary and Sr. Leslie. Not only did they lose their important identity cards like driver's license and Medicare cards, but each had notebooks with information needed for administration of the Inn. Someone checked nearby trash cans for the bags, but nothing turned up. Of course the credit cards were immediately canceled and new Medicare cards ordered. This morning a minor miracle occurred when one of the friars discovered the bags in the meditation room of the chapel. Apparently the thief had gone through the bags in the quiet chapel before removing one of the wallets. Everything else was intact in the bags.
In addition to the effects on humans, the heat has contributed to an increase in pests. When one enters the Inn at night and turns on the light, the floor is covered with skittering roaches. The smell of warm garbage in our trash yard has attracted other pests. I was sitting outside on Saturday in our backyard when I heard a sound. I looked up, and an eight-inch rat was about a foot in front of me! It sauntered under the fence and was in the trash yard. I may be an animal lover, but this was not "Brother Rat." In fact, it was a very mangy and scary looking rat. The fact that it was out during the day and had portions of its fur missing made me think it might be a very sick rat. I pointed it out again on Sunday to Karen, who is in charge of things like pest control. At the time it was right by our kitchen door. No offense to St. Francis, but this is one of God's creatures that I can do without.

The Curlew Sandpiper -- Luck?

2010-05-29T10:24:00.004-04:00

Thea and I have always said that it takes four things to find a truly rare bird: 1) you have to look at the right time of year; 2) you have to be in the right habitat; 3) you need to be there at the right time of day; and 4) you need to be lucky. Recently, this maxim played out again in our birdwatching "career" -- or did it? You be the judge.

May in New Jersey is the time of peak migration of North American birds. Many of the birds that breed in Canada/Alaska/New England/etc. are funneled through Cape May and up the coastline of New Jersey. The waterbirds, especially, are concentrated in fairly well-defined places. Combine this with decades of observations by dedicated (and fanatical!) birdwatchers, and you have a reasonably predictable "schedule" for many rare species. For example, the Mourning Warblers are most often seen at the Palmyra Park during the last two weeks of May, whereas the Connecticut Warblers are only seen at Higbee State Park in October.

From our various contacts, Thea and I knew that a truly rare bird, the Curlew Sandpiper, could be expected to be at various places in coastal New Jersey during the last two weeks of May. At least one or two of these rather beautiful shore birds (they have a bright chestnut head, neck and breast and a characteristic downturned black bill) have been spotted during each of the last four years. The species is actually native to Europe and Asia and but is "rare in the Eastern US" according to our bird book."

Excited by the possibility of seeing this rare bird, Thea began her customary background work that she performs when facing any difficult task. She went to the archived reports from the Delaware Valley Ornithological Club for the past five years and found that the Curlew Sandpiper was reported at Heislerville, about an hour and a half's drive from Philly. The earliest date the bird had been seen was May 14, and the latest May 31st. So, on May 8th, we did a "trial run" down to Heislerville and located the two large mudflats where the birds would presumably be arriving and got the "lay of the land". I did notice one small problem: there were literally THOUSANDS of other shorebirds present including semi-palmated sandpipers, dunlins, yellow legs, dowitchers, and the like. We would be looking, literally, for a needle in a haystack.

For the next week, we checked our e-mail every morning, looking for a posting of the sighting of a Curlew Sandpiper. On Sunday, May 16th, the first report came in. A female Curlew Sandpiper had been spotted the day before at Heislerville, about a 90 minute drive from Philly. Unfortunately, we had other commitments that day (I was playing music at Mass, and Sister Xavier had invited us to an open house in celebration of her 50 years as a nun), and so we could not get down to Heislerville until Tuesday. On Tuesday, we traveled to Heislerville and for more than two hours scanned every shore bird there, looking for one with a chestnut head and breast -- no luck! But, we remained positive -- the peak migration of the sandpipers had just begun. Surely there would be another opportunity.

There was! On Saturday, May 22nd, another sighting was posted: a male Curlew Sandpiper had been spotted on Friday at Heislerville. On Sunday, again after playing music at mass, we hustled on down to Heislerville. As we approached the second mudflat, we saw a group of people looking through telescopes. Hot dog! Surely in this group of obviously avid birders someone had sighted the Curlew Sandpiper -- but, no. When we asked if the bird had been sighted, all we got was a shake of the head. The group had been scanning birds for two hours and had not found him. As we joined the search, I learned that one of the group was Kevin Karlson, a co-author for the definitive book on shore birds and an absolute expert on identification of these difficult birds. I thought to myself: "if this guy can't find this bird in TWO HOURS, it probably isn't here today." But, we persevered and for an additional hour patiently looked through each of several thousand birds. No Curlew Sandpiper. The next day, an e-mail posting announced that about an hour after we left, the young nephew of one of the group members had managed to pick out the Curlew Sandpiper. I couldn't believe it -- why had I not thought to give our cell phone number to the group. We could have turned around and headed back. Thea was philosophical: "Some things are just not meant to be!"

The following Weds., May 26th, Thea had scheduled a kayaking trip for us down a beautiful river in central New Jersey. It was a gift from her father for her birthday, and we both were looking forward to it. That morning, as we headed out the door, my inner voice said "Check the e-mail", and so literally as we were packing the car, I opened up the computer. Holy smokes! A male Curlew Sandpiper had been sighted at 6 PM the night before at Heislerville. After a brief discussion, Thea and I decided to put the telescope in the car in case we decided to try one more time for the bird.

We had a beautiful morning kayaking. The river was quiet (a rare commodity in Philadelphia), with wonderful trees, flowers, and lots of birds. We even saw a number of blooming pitcher plants by the water's edge and a carpet of yellow blooming bladderworts on Lake Harrison. After a delightful morning, we finished up about 1 PM. "Well, do you want to go over to Heislerville" I asked? "Might as well", said Thea, and so we drove the 90 minutes and arrived at about 2:30 to find several other birders and literally NO shorebirds. It was low tide, and we would have to wait until at least 6 PM for a rising tide to concentrate the birds on the high spots on the mudflat.

Now, this is not a good situation for Thea and me. We do best when we have a schedule, a list of activities, and a plan. The prospect of 3+ hours of unscheduled "down time" is usually cause for frustration, boredom, and/or a fight. But this time, we actually improvised well. We drove to a nearby beach. I took a nap; Thea enjoyed the sights and sounds of the marsh. When some "locals" showed up, we got recommendations on a good diner and at 4:30 drove to a nearby town for an early meal. We dawdled over dinner (a very rare occasion for us!) and at 6 PM drove back to Heislerville, arriving at 6:20 PM. Just before arriving, Thea said, "You know, we probably would have seen this bird by now if we could have just come down here without having to do Sunday AM music or other commitments." I agreed and said something like: "Curlew Sandpiper or Mass, Mass or Curlew Sandpiper, maybe we should re-examine our priorities! If I were God, I would reward us for being faithful to our commitments!" We both laughed and drove up to a group of birders with telescopes.

Of course, no one had seen the Curlew Sandpiper! But, undeterred, we set up our telescope and began scanning. I looked first with my binoculars at the closest birds and almost immediately saw a couple of reddish birds. We put the scope on them: a red knot and a couple of dowitchers. I scanned left and saw another, smaller reddish blob. We put the scope on it: it was a small shorebird, the right size, and had a red neck and breast. But, the bird's head was tucked in and we could not see the beak. Still, I said "I think I might have the bird!" Thea looked and agreed. Another lady nearby, who had actually seen a Curlew Sandpiper the previous year, also looked and said that it did appear to be the bird, but without seeing the bill, she could not be sure. As I examined the bird in the telescope, he suddenly turned his head, and there was the definitive downturned, black bill. It as absolutely, a male Curlew Sandpiper!!!!! I quickly got Thea to look, and then the lady. From, literally two thousand shore birds, I had picked out the "needle in the haystack". We waved out arms, signalling other birders of our find. The lady rushed off to get her husband who had been scanning nearby groups of shorebirds. Thea and I took turns looking at the bird, reveling in the experience of finally being successful. Then, inexplicably, the entire flock of birds were spooked and flew off. The Curlew Sandpiper, after appearing to be asleep and roosting for the night, was gone. We spent the next hourly unsuccessfully trying to find him again but the "needle" had disappeared.

As Thea and I drove home, we re-lived the day. The kayak trip was fantastic; the lazy afternoon was nice; the dinner was fun; and we had been two of the three people (out of perhaps a dozen birdwatchers) who had seen the Curlew Sandpiper. We had been at the right place, at the right time, in the right month, and we had been lucky...

or had God just smiled on us?

Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes

2010-05-25T13:22:00.003-04:00

One of the guidelines for the Team at the St. Francis Inn is that of inviting others to share in its ministry. We have been overwhelmed by the support of so many people here in Philadelphia. However, we have been even more humbled by the support of so many of our friends and family throughout the country. We know that people have been praying for our health and safety during our time here. Others have sent us socks, underwear and toiletries to be given to our guests. Some folks have sent cash contributions, and a few have given of their time and energy to come and work for a number of days here at the Inn. For all of this support, we are truly grateful.

However, this week we had the most amazing gift sent to the Inn through us. Our friends the Maryvale Sisters have a daycare in Vale, NC. Each year the children host a walkathon for a worthy cause. The Sisters decided that this year the recipient of the walkathon would be the St. Francis Inn. They had as their theme for the walk the miracles of the loaves and fishes. They wanted the children to understand that even if only a small amount of food or money is present, it can be multiplied into a larger amount through the grace of God. All of the children, even the babies in strollers, participated in 10 laps around the drive at the daycare. Many parents and grandparents walked as well. On Saturday we received a certified letter from Maryvale. Enclosed was a check to the Inn in the amount of $4230! The team received the check and pictures of the event on Monday morning. When they saw the amount they were truly amazed. Sister Mary said they needed the children to do all of their fundraising. Best of all, the money will be matched by an anonymous benefactor, so in reality twice the amount was raised.

All of us here give thanks and praise to the Maryvale community, the children, and the hundreds of donors who gave to the walkathon, all for the honor and glory of God.

Serving in the yard

2010-05-20T15:27:00.006-04:00

I feel like Thea and I are in "countdown mode". In a little more than one month, we will be heading home, and the St. Francis Inn experience will be just a memory. Clearly, it has changed Thea and me, but now, we will re-enter the "real world" of Hickory and get on with our "real" lives. On Wednesday morning, I spoke with my spiritual director -- we call each other for an hour every Weds. AM -- and he gave me some good advice. "Mark", he said, "don't waste these last days at the Inn by jumping ahead in your mind to being back in Hickory. There are still many opportunities for the Lord to work through you at the Inn." Good advice, and I resolved to be open to the Lord's grace amidst the "countdown".

Today, I worked the morning meal and was in the yard. We had plenty of staff, and so the Coordinator told me to "relax and just monitor the yard and bathrooms." As I was standing around, some of the guests began "checking in" with me. Rambo, one of our regulars who suffers from ongoing depression and suicidal thoughts, told me that he "wanted me to hang him." I replied that I didn't want to do that because he was an important person, and that I didn't want him to die. He grumbled off saying that he was tired of living and wanted to die.

Then, Michael and his one-year old baby came by. His is a sad story: the mother of his child was murdered about a year ago at one of the subway stops. Apparently she was a prostitute who could not give up the lifestyle and got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Michael asked me to take a picture of his little boy because he, like many of the parents that the Inn serives, does have any photos of his child. While Michael tickled the little boy, I snapped away and we finally got a good shot which I told Michael that I would print for him.

About this time, back comes Rambo informing me that both bathrooms are out of toilet paper. This, clearly, is a crisis of the first order, and I quickly go in and replace all the exhausted rolls with new ones. "See", I tell Rambo, "if I had hanged you, you would not have been alive to tell about the toilet paper. You are important!" Magically, Rambo's atitude flips and he begins to tell me about how his secret powers, derived from something called "The Matrix". He rambles on for a few minutes, not making a whole lot of sense, but clearly, the depression is at least temporarily, put at bay. He is happy again, feeling some self worth.

A minute later, another of the regulars -- a 48-year old man named Deacon -- stops by. Deacon suffers from mental illness of some sort, possibly paranoia. He is a voracious writer, scribbling endlessly in notesbooks, and recently has been in a religious mood. I ask him how he is, and he replies in a sonorous voice: "Wonderfullll....wonderful.............wonderful. To think that He would be interested in me.......to think that He would care......they don't believe but it's a little too much.......just a little too much......Isn't it?.......Isn't it?? I ask Deacon who "He" and "They" are. He replies that "He" in the Lord, and "They" are people on the street. So I say: "You mean that it is just a little too much to believe that the Lord cares about you and me, even though many people in Kensington are non-believers -- right? "RIIIIIGHT", says Deacon, "But it's a little too much......too much." He moves off to discuss religion with someone else.

Then, a "normal" person -- Jerome from the AA program across the street -- approaches. Jerome is a recovering alcoholic that lives over at the Last Stop. He comes to Mass regularly and when I ask him how many days he's been sober he says "Over two years, man!" I congratulate him and ask him if he has any family. He casts his eyes down and tells me that he's separated from his wife ("She got tired of my drinking and kicked me out of the house.") and his three kids aged 21, 19, and 7. He, at 38, is already a grandfather. After the initial separation, he "went crazy" and got arrested for dealing drugs ("I panicked and made some really stupid decisions.") Now, however, he's clean, looking for a job and hoping to reconcile with his wife. He tells me: "I want a relationship like you have with you wife." "It takes lots of work" I tell him.

Jerome heads to the food line, and I hear a familiar voice behind me. It's Ray. This is the guest that has an educational bent. He loves science and often asks me questions about animals. Today he, too, is on a religion kick. "I got this tape from the library on religion, man. You know that lots of our religion comes from Africa and that's why those churches have all that singing and dancing and charismatic preachers." I notice that someone has left a Time Life book on Mammals on the ground and ask Ray if he would like to have the book. "Sure", he says, and he moves off. Later, after the gate closes he comes back and asks for a razor which I give to him, although technically we are not supposed to give out toiletries on Thursdays. "Thanks, man" he says. "I knew that you would do that for me because you are my friend." And he moves off down the street.

I look at my watch: 70 minutes has elapsed, just like that. And I feel good, because Rambo is happier; Michael will have a good picture of his little boy; Ray has a new book and a couple of razors; I have told Jerome that I will pray for him, but my main thought is Deacon's -- It's wonderful that the Lord cares about us and works through us.

Wonderfullllllll, indeed.

Things Fall Apart

2010-05-19T07:39:00.002-04:00

Over time, homeowners have to repair and replace major items in the house. At the Inn, we also have major breakdowns, often at the most inopportune times. This past Sunday/Monday is a great example. On Sunday, Mark and I were off for the day. When we returned from a peaceful day of birding in New Jersey, we saw a man on his knees on the sidewalk, pushing a plumbing "snake" down into a hole. Apparently someone flushed an object down the toilet, and it stopped up the outflow. The sewage backed up into the basement, but no one went into the basement during the meal. By the time the backup was discovered, several inches of water covered the floor. The plumbers were called (on a Sunday!), but couldn't get to the problem. The garbage disposal also stopped working during the meal. This is critical because we use the disposal to destroy food left on plates when the plates are washed during the meal. Fortunately, Sr. Leslie has talents in the repair department, and she was able to take the disposal apart, discover the source of problem (a small staple), remove it, and get the garbage disposal back together in record time.
Monday the plumbers returned with a longer snake and were able to remove the blockage. We were able to get the bathrooms open again. For Monday's meal, Mark was assigned to dishwasher. He turned the machine on to fill it up with hot water for the first load of dishes. The light that indicates the water is in place just kept blinking. Mark called over Sr. Mary, who went through the procedure again--same thing happened. Sr. Leslie and Karen both came over to see if they could solve the problem, to no avail. At this point it was 4:25 and the meal was scheduled to start in five minutes. Karen, the coordinator, quickly made the decision to go with paper cups and plastic spoons for the meal. The bowls for the roast beef over rice would have to be washed by hand. Sister Mary got water boiling on the stove, and Mark and Mary washed 328 bowls by hand in the sink. The dishwasher repairmen showed up Tuesday morning and worked all day, but could not finish the job. We have been promised that by noon today, the dishwasher will be up and running. Both breakfast pots and all items from Tuesday's dinner were washed by hand. Fortunately, we have 8 students from Lemoyne College here all week, so we have lots of hands to do the work.

Group Visitors from Home

2010-05-16T16:05:00.003-04:00

It is interesting how ones perspective changes. After Thea and I had been here awhile and had learned all of the basic jobs at the Inn, we actually began to dread -- well not DREAD, but at least to be weary -- of new groups of volunteers coming to St. Francis Inn. At first, it was really fun to meet new people each week and to teach others how to do the various tasks efficiently. However, as with all human endeavor, it eventually becomes tiresome. When I look on the schedule and see that a new group of college students is coming to the Inn, I think to myself: "Well, I hope these kids are quicker learners than that LAST group!" I know this is not especially Franciscan or Christian, but it is honestly sometimes the way I feel.

However, when the visitors are your friends, all this changes. Last month, our close friends Marie and Mary Ann visited, and we just loved seeing them. This past week, we had a wonderful group of seven from St. Aloysius in Hickory, and we had an equally-great time with them. The group visit was supposed to be a surprise, but through an e-mail glitch, Thea and I found out their plans pretty early. On the one hand, it was a disappointment: it would have been great to be surprised. On the other hand, since we knew they were coming, we could -- and did -- look forward to the visit. We had been on previous mission trips with three of the members of the group, and so we knew that they were dedicated workers that would do well in the SFI setting.

When the group arrived, Thea and I were the host couple, and we took pride in putting them to work. We had found out in advance that several of the men had some "fix-it" and construction skills, abilities which many of our visiting groups do not possess. So the Inn staff -- especially Karen and Barbara -- put together a long, long list of various tasks, ranging from hanging fire extinguishers in three locations and sealing windows to replacing bathroom floors and fixing plumbing leaks. The guys tackled the tasks with aplomb and efficiency, and by week's end had finished most of the jobs on the list. There were several adventures, including picking up a six ft. high section of picket fence at Home Depot, only to discover that the fence was too large to fit into the Inn's van. We jury-rigged a rooftop mounting using twine and drove slowly coming home, praying to St. Francis all the way!

Other members of the group helped with other extra jobs, including a complete weeding, trimming and clean up of the back yard of our neighboring house. In two hours flat, the yard was transformed from a junky, weedy, overgrown mess to an orderly, beautiful yard. It was a miracle. Again, our Inn staff, especially Barbara, were ecstatic. Other members helped Thea do soil preparation at a nearby community garden managed by the residents of the Catholic Workers, House.

Now, before you think that the St. Als group didn't get to work at the Inn itself, let me set the record straight. All of the above was IN ADDITION to working regular shifts at the Inn, St. Benedict's Thrift shop, and doing pick ups. During the afternoons when most of the groups get a break, many of the St. Als groups worked at these extra tasks. After a couple of days, one of the guys told me that he was "pooped!" No wonder -- we worked them hard, or rather, they worked themselves hard. Thea and I were so proud to be associated with these talented and spirit-filled people.

I don't want to put words in anybody's mouth, but the experience seemed to be really positive for all. One person told me that this "seems more like a lovely week-long retreat than a mission trip." Another member of the group, a college student, made what will probably be a lasting friendship with 87 year old Sister Margaret. Still another spent several meals talking to our guests in the yard and came away with a new view of the homeless.

This morning, after Sunday mass, the group departed. As they left, one of the men said to me: "Thanks so much for allowing us to have this experience. If you and Thea had not come up here, we would never have come here either." Truly it was a pleasure for Thea and me to be God's instruments in exposing the St. Al's group to the wonderful work of the St. Francis Inn. The experience also remind Thea and me how much we miss home and are looking forward to getting back to Hickory. Spending time with the group definitely helped begin our transition from our life at SFI to the next phase of our life back in North Carolina. Again, and always, God works through all of us for mutual benefit and growth.

Praise be to God!

Hot dog supper

2010-05-07T05:49:00.002-04:00

One of the challenges at the Inn is being able to work under many individuals with widely divergent personalities. For example, if one cooks with Br. Fred, there is virtually nothing to do. Br. Fred will get up at 5 am and prepare everything, all the way down to counting out the forks and napkins for the takeout meals (side doors). When I have been assistant to Fred, my contribution has been opening a few cans of some vegetable and heating them on the stove.
At the other end of the continuum is Br. Xavier. Xavier is a master at taking food someone else has cooked and transforming it into a new dish--a soup, stew or sandwich. Usually he cooks alone and commandeers a local volunteer to fetch and carry for him. However, yesterday I was assigned to him as assistant cook. I wasn't concerned as he had let me know earlier in the week that we were having hot dogs. I had seen hundreds of hot dog rolls arrive on Monday with the bread, and he had moved them to the cooler and marked them with his name, so we were set. I figured I would just have to open a few cans of beans, heat them up, and we would be ready. WRONG!!!!
On Wednesday Xavier let me know he had a doctor's appointment Thursday morning, and I should take some cooked potatoes left over from another day and make potato salad. No problem, I thought. I searched the cooler for the potatoes. I found pans of green beans, peas, applesauce, lasagna, even ham and pineapple. After some searching and asking, I located them in a different refrigerator. I set to work cutting up the 20 pounds of potatoes and adding celery, onion, boiled eggs, mayonnaise and a little mustard. After two hours, I was finished. It tasted great. By that time, Xavier had returned. We were cooking for 300 people, and I knew we needed more side dishes. Xavier turned the green beans into a cold string bean salad, and I made a huge tossed salad. With the applesauce, we had 2 hot dogs and 2 buns for each guest, plus two side dishes. I have learned that one must have backup dishes in case the food doesn't stretch as far as expected. Xavier pointed out more boiled potatoes and the peas.
Around 3 pm I began opening all the packs of hot dogs and we made 20 take out platters. By 4:30 I had everything ready to begin serving the food. At that point, Xavier disappeared. I had expected him to continue cooking the dogs, and I would make the switch of the various sides as they ran out. Instead, I was suddenly cooking, removing the cooked dogs, adding new ones to the tilt skillet, washing used pots, bringing in more drinks, and bringing the new food to the servers. At one point the water level of the tilt skillet got too low and I had to bring a faucet into the skillet and refill it. I threw in the dogs and lowered the lid. Too late, I realized I had not flipped the faucet out of the skillet and by lowering the lid I had bent the entire pipe. Other cooks had done the same thing earlier in the year, and I had conscientiously avoided doing the damage. Now I had to confess that I had broken the faucet.
The meal finally ended. We had fed 299 people. The backup dishes were needed and we didn't have much in the way of leftovers. I was exhausted and upset that I had damaged the equipment. The event made me appreciate what the cooks do 365 days at the end, and made me happy that I was not a cook. I hope future schedules leave me off cooking detail for the time that remains.

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

2010-05-04T15:45:00.004-04:00

I (Thea) received a financial windfall back in March, and decided to use the cash to go to a Phillies game. However, when we started to look for tickets at games that did not conflict with our schedule in May and June, we found that most of the games were sold out. Standing Room Only spots were $17.00, and I balked at the idea of standing for 3 hours. Fortunately, one of the staff members has a brother with 2 season tickets and he was looking to sell his seats for a few of the games. We were able to get seats at last Sunday's night game with the New York Mets.

We took the subway to the stadium and got there early so we could walk around the entire level and observe all the concession stands, memorabilia and all the bells and whistles this 5 year old stadium has. Our seats were on the fourth tier, but behind home plate so we had a good view of the batter and the giant tv screen. The people sitting around us were mostly young men and women, rabid fans but very courteous and willing to answer our questions as first time visitors to the stadium.

The Mets had a great pitcher for this game with a 90 mph fastball. The Phillies pitcher, Jamie Moyer, is old (46) for a major league player and his fastball was a mere 80 mph. However, he held his own. At the bottom of the fourth inning the score was Mets 5, Phillies 2. We were thinking it might be a rout for the home team. Then a few hits and walks later, the bases were loaded and the batter hit a grand slam. When a home run occurs, a giant neon Liberty Bell lights up, fireworks go up and the bell gongs. People were jumping up and down and high-fiving each others. More hits and another homer later, and the Phillies were up 11-5. That was pretty much the ballgame. We stayed until the end, took the subway home and got back around midnight.

"One is silver and the other's gold."

2010-05-01T15:43:00.003-04:00

As much as we like the members of the community here at St. Francis, we miss our family and our friends immensely. Therefore, we were so excited to have a visit from our two dear friends Mary Ann Crane and Marie Martino. Both are members of our parish in Hickory, and we have spent many hours with them and their husbands having dinner, discussing life, and in general having great times. Both ladies worked at the Inn all day Thursday and on Friday. They are outgoing and great conversationalists. By the time they left, they were all on a first name basis with Danny, Ted, Rambo, and a number of other colorful characters that populate the Inn.

We were rather short on volunteers Friday and I (Thea) was the coordinator that day. So it was helpful to know that if I left Mary Ann and Marie in charge of cut desserts, I did not have to return every 15 minutes to be sure they would be finished in time. These ladies have not only raised families but also done lots of volunteer work, so they were able to take in the routine we use pretty quickly. By the end of the day Friday, Mary Ann was instructing the servers and bussers and Marie was doing mail checks for the guests. If they had stayed a few more days, they would have been asked to be Team members!

The only negative about their visit was that they had to leave, and we will not see them for at least 8 more weeks. Looking at the calendar made us realize that we are starting to be "short-timers;" eight weeks from today we plan to start our journey South. We can already tell that the transition will be bittersweet. We have gotten so much from the guests and the community here, but at the same time there are people that want us nearby in North Carolina and other places where we may be able to share our gifts.

Behavior: what does it say about us?

2010-04-27T09:49:00.001-04:00

This morning at mass, Father Pat made a simple observation. The early church was characterized by disciples and followers of Jesus "who loved one another". The book of Acts confirms this. The early Christians held their property in common; money and goods were distributed accordinging to each person's needs; non-believers knew the the early Christians by their love for one another. So, if that is the way things began, what changed? According to Father Pat, the problem was that beginning with the naming of the early followers as "Christians" (which happened at Antioch) and continuing as emperor Constantine made Chrisitianity the official religion of Rome, we became more interested in what we are called than in how we actually behave. As Christians, Father Pat continued, we ought to be concentrating on our behavior, as opposed to being "Catholic" or even "Christian".

That got me (Mark) thinking: how do I actually behave, when no one is looking? Do people look at me and say: "We know he is a Christian, not because of what he says, but because of what he does." Oh, I know that my immediate family and friends love me and think that I am a loving person -- at least I hope they do. But, the real question is: would a complete stranger know that I am Christian by my behavior? Do I "walk the walk" or simple talk a good game?

I meditated on this during my prayer time this morning, and I have to say that the "reviews" were mixed. I thought about the young woman I confronted about her littering in the CVS parking lot several months ago. I doubt that she would have thought my actions qualified me as a loving Christian. I thought about James, the young gay man I met at the St. Francis Inn two weeks ago, and how I had consoled him during a time of crisis in his life. He might vote "yes".

Then, a recent example from this past week popped into my head. Thea and I were at our daughter Angela's house. Cade, our three year old grandson was upset. It was late in the afternoon and he wanted to go to the park. Our daugher and son-in-law wanted to get going on dinner and the evening routine, which did NOT include a trip to the park. So, Thea and I suggested that we take Cade to the park for a few minutes. It wasn't in the plan for the day, but we could be a little flexible.

Since we needed the carseat, we took Angela's car. About halfway to the park, I glanced at the fuel gauge -- YIKES!!! We were not just low, we were running on fumes: the low fuel light was on and the needle was well to the LEFT of the red "E". Silently praying, I drove toward the park and turned in to the very first gas station I saw. We had never stopped at that station before for gas, and it wasn't the lowest price, but "any port in a storm".

As I began the fueling process, I became conscious of a young man approaching me. He was tall, dark hair...serious. "Sir, I am really embarrassed to ask you, but I need money." He related a whole, involved story of how he had come up from Mississippi to help out a friend whose mother was sick. When he got here, his friend didn't have any money, and the mother needed special treatment for a broken hip. They were on their way from Raleigh to Charlotte, but did not have enough gas to get there. A kind soul had already given them $5, but they would soon need more. Could I please give him $20 for gas?

Now, if there is one thing that our eight months at the St. Francis Inn has taught us, it is how to respond to " a hustle". Our guests at the Inn are professional hustlers. You cannot live on the street without knowing how to get money out of kind-hearted, but unsuspecting people. Thea and I have learned to "check things out" before we say "Yes", and our cardinal rule is "Never give money directly to the guests because it will invariably be used to buy drugs or alcohol." I was being asked by a complete stranger to violate this rule.

He could see that I was wary and so he pulled out his ID. I checked it: he was from Mississippi, and he was veteran, discharged in summer, 2009. I glanced at his car: there was an old woman in the passenger seat, motionless with her head drooping, as if in pain. I made careful eye contact with the young man -- he looked earnest, embarrassed, and a little desparate. In consulted my "inner voice" -- no warning bells sounded. With one final look at the ID, I pulled out my wallet and gave him a $20. I watched as he got into his car and pulled away. I thought for a moment that I'd been "hustled", but he was only moving to the other side of the gas pump to better access his fuel tank. I pumped my own gas, got into my vehicle, and proceeded to the park with Cade and Thea. I assume that he finished his own fueling and drove on to Charlotte.

As I pushed Cade on the park swing, I wondered if the man was "legit" or if he had just taken advantage of me. He insisted on taking my address, swearing that when he returned home, he would send me the money. As I reflect on this now, I realize that whether or not he repays me does not matter. In this one instance, I did actually did behave as a loving Christian. I believe that God acted through me to help another person who was in need. Chalk one up for the Holy Spirit.

Do I always act this way? Of course not. There are many instances when I, like everyone else, am selfish, self-centered, and downright mean. However, Jesus calls me and all of us to behave so much that people will know we are Christians by our love. It's a tough task, but with His Grace, that is what we are called to do, one day at a time, one person at a time, one "incident" at a time.

St. Francis puts it another way, "Preach the gospel at all times...if necessary, use words!"

We're BAAAACK

2010-04-26T17:31:00.004-04:00

We returned today after 8 days of being in Raleigh. We were able to hold for the first time our newest granddaughter Reese. We saw 6 month old Catie for the first time since Christmas. We were amazed at the change in her, both in terms of her size and her development. She is almost crawling and reaches out and holds objects. We celebrated Cade's third birthday, and truly enjoyed his impish personality and his obsession with trains and earth moving equipment. He laughs hysterically with Mark pretends that he is the "Voice of the Cosmos" and tells Cade "Cade Poovey is a dingbat! That is all. "

However, when we returned today, we were excited to be back and hear the news of the Inn. Leo, one of the FVM's, wrote a play in iambic pentameter, gently spoofing the friars and their visitator. The visitator came by last week as part of a regular review of friars, and of course our guys here passed with flying colors. However, the play capitalized on the little idiosyncrasies that each friar exhibits, such as Br. Fred's desire to have everything clean and orderly. We have a big "X" made of tape on the floor of the kitchen where nothing is to be placed because it would block access to a shelf with trash bags. Br.Xavier tells the visitator about his scrap metal collection and how it is used to pay for tokens for the guests. Fr. Patrick talks about his antiwar demonstrations and why he needs money to make bail, and Fr. Bill waxes on about his travels to various parishes and his delight in baking bread and cakes. The play was performed this evening after Mass, and I laughed until I cried. Various team members showed their thespian skills by taking the parts of the friars. I think the play shows how comfortable people are with others in the community and how we can laugh with, not at, each other.

Dee

2010-04-17T07:55:00.002-04:00

Yesterday Mark agreed to strip the wax off the dining room floor and apply new wax. He had to wait for the meal to be over before he and Rory could begin. I planned to walk the few blocks to the library and try to find a book on tape for our trip. Then I would walk the 1.5 miles to the bank to get some cash.
The library trip went fine, but I was really tired when I came home because of the limited sleep due to the fireworks. I decided to take a short nap, then walk to the bank. However, when I awoke it was already 4 pm. No problem, I thought, I can be there by 4:30 and the bank stays open to 5 pm. As I was leaving the house, I glanced toward the Inn. I saw Hector, a guest who stays at the corner all the time, with a woman. He was pointing at me. I figured the woman needed help, and no one would answer the door at the Inn since it was only Mark and Rory inside.
I walked over and realized I knew the woman. It was Dee, a 74 year old woman I had met last fall. She had been homeless, but had managed to get into very nice senior housing. At one point she had been "302'd": put into a mental hospital because she was considered a danger to herself or others. She had returned to her apartment after two weeks in the hospital. I had not seen her since February. She told me she had lost her housing and was on the street. She was trembling. I asked when she had last eaten and she said two days ago. She had her cane and the clothes on her back. She had slept the previous night at the subway station. In the past she had a rolling cart that contained her possessions, but she appeared to have lost it or had it stolen from her.
I got her some food from the Inn and some juice to drink. I moved her to the steps of our place since it was shady. After more discussion, I realized she needed a coat since the evening temperatures are still in the forties. I told her I had to go on an errand but would be back in an hour.
During my walk I considered what I could do for Dee. It seemed she had lost touch with reality. I knew she was estranged from a sister who lived in her building. I also knew she had a daughter and grandchildren who had wanted her to come live with them when she was homeless before, but she wanted nothing to do with them. I could not force her to return home or contact her family. I could give her some basic comforts and try to get her to return to the Inn for meals.
Upon my return, I found a nice cloth bag and put together some useful items: clean socks, a throw blanket, a towel, toothbrush, toothpaste and soap. I gave her some peanut butter and plastic knives, plus yogurt and spoons. She had already given away the bread I had given her earlier, although she claimed someone had taken it from her. I reminded her the meal was at 11:30 tomorrow. She slowly walked off toward the SEPTA station. I felt guilty I had not done more for her, but she is one of those cases that falls through the system. I know she gets social security checks, but where the money went is anyone's guess. It did occur to me that if I hadn't taken the nap, I would not have been coming out of my house at that time and no one would have been on the street to help her. So some good did come from the fireworks throwing after all.

Explosions in the Dead of Night

2010-04-16T17:43:00.003-04:00

A loud explosion sounded and the room lit up. I woke up, and my foggy brain tried to make sense of what was happening. There were thunderstorms in the forecast, but it didn't seem to be thunder and lightning. I decided to ignore whatever it was and return to sleep. At 4:45am I was awakened again. There was a loud "thud", then an explosion of light with sparks descending. The sound seemed to be coming from right outside my window. I decided that a branch must have fallen from a tree on top of the street light, breaking it and causing sparks. I tried to get back to sleep, but at 6 am there was another explosion. This time the sparks seemed to be on our upper story window and I woke Mark up, thinking the house might have been struck by lightning and was on fire. I looked out and saw Arnetta and another woman on the sidewalk. They weren't running away, so obviously there was no fire.

At this point I figured I would get up, go outside and see what was happening. Two guests were sleeping on the sidewalk at either side of the house, but there were no branches or pieces of glass. I put the Inn's garbage out on the street, then went into the Inn to move the wash. Later I returned to fold the towels and aprons. Fr. Michael came in for morning Mass, and remarked on the last explosion. I said maybe it was the light on the pole or a transformer exploding. Of course, if it was the transformer there would be no power, so that seemed a poor explanation.

Up the chapel, I got the true story. According to Arnetta, who had been out on the sidewalk all night, someone had been driving by and throwing lit fireworks at the sleeping guests. Father Michael chastised me for starting rumors about broken lights and transformers, and why did I think that was the source of the sound and light anyway? I told him that in the world I come from, when a loud explosion occurs followed by lots of sparks, it is either a lightning strike or an exploded transformer. Of course, I am not in that world.

I later learned that the homeless in the neighborhood are the target of groups of teens during the warmer months. Some of the boys have ridden by on their bicycles armed with baseball bats and strike at the sleeping guests. Sometimes they have thrown rocks or other objects at them. I asked if anyone cared, and the response was "We care." I remarked I was thinking more about law enforcement. Of course, it is difficult to get a license plate number from a bike, and in the dark it is hard to identify a perpetrator. "Where are their parents?" I persisted. Brother Xavier is always telling me in his Yoda-like manner that we have to remember that parental responsibility often disappears when the children are quite young and the kids are left to their own devices. They look to other units of support, and gangs are one way to feel like a family. Of all the experiences I have had so far, I find this the most upsetting because it is premeditated cruelty.

Reese Caroline Poovey has arrived!

2010-04-14T07:17:00.002-04:00

We were blessed with another grandchild on April 13. Reese Caroline Poovey arrived at 4:30 am weighing 6 lb 7 oz and 19.25 inches long. Her mother Angela and dad Allen are doing well. Big brother Cade is very proud. We will be going to Raleigh in a few days and staying there for a week to help out. We can't wait to hold her.

Balance and Moderation and Fundraising

2010-04-13T13:03:00.000-04:00

Balance and moderation have always been difficult for me (Mark). If a couple of cups of coffee in the morning give me good energy to start the day, why stop? How about four cups, or six, or eight? If a $100 contribution to a charity is good, maybe I should give them $250 or even $500. When I was Director of the Science Center, I used to get to work at 8:00. After I arrived, I would think to myself, “Maybe it would be better if I arrived at 7:30…or 7 am. When I left at 5:30pm each day, I would say (you guessed it), “Maybe I should be staying until 6 PM.”
This tendency toward extremes persists. Today I did my 4 mile run in 34 minutes, an average of 8:30 per mile. Instead of being happy with the time (oh, sure, it was pretty good), my immediate thought was “Wouldn’t it be great to be able to run that distance in only 32 minutes?” (Now THAT would be fast!)
My latest “addiction” (besides trying to run faster) is the FVM fundraising effort. Those of you who are regular readers know that a couple of months ago, I was “appointed” by Father Michael to the Franciscan Volunteer Ministry (FVM) Advisory Board. Our purpose is fundraising: the FVM program is 21 years old and, until this year, was entirely supported by the Eastern Province of Franciscan Friars. Unfortunately with the economic downturn, the Province has had to cut back its support, and so the FVM program must raise about one-third of its budget in order to keep going.
At the Associate Board’s first couple of meetings, the members brainstormed various steps that we needed to take. My piece of the pie was to design and deliver a fundraising “retreat” for the FVM’s professional staff (two people strong) and for current and past FVMs. With help of Katie Sullivan (the FVM’s Program Director), we set up a half-day FVM “Survive and Thrive” day for Saturday, April 10th. About a month ahead of time, I began work on the agenda. It would include an overview of the FVM program, a PowerPoint on fundraising techniques, some role playing and practice, and (most important) time for us to identify specific people and groups to which we could apply for funds. I spent several evenings working on the program. Invitations (actually e-vites on the internet) were sent to the 12 current FVMs and to 164 alums, and by the end of March, we had 17 positive responses.
As April 10th approached, I began to feel nervous. I know that I am a good speaker and an enthusiastic presenter, and, as insurance, I had also enlisted the aid of one of the other Associate Bd. members (Lori Springer, a bright, young, energetic Director of Development) to counterbalance my “grandfather” image. However, this is the FIRST TIME in the FVM program’s history that we would be actually asking for money. This represented a huge change in philosophy. Many times, Father Michael, the originator of the program, told me how much he hates the thought of fundraising, so much so, that he NEVER asks for money. In reviewing my meetings with some of the current and former FVMs, I realized that these young people are very strong on the relationship, spiritual, and affective side of life and (apparently, at least to my eyes), a little short on the aggressive, sales end of things. I thought to myself: “What in the world have I gotten myself into?”
Three nights before the retreat, I woke up in the middle of the night worrying. I couldn’t get back to sleep despite praying. The next night, at 3 am, my eyes flew wide open. I saw a huge flaw in the plans I had developed for the role playing. Immediately, I went down to the computer and for an hour, refined the plan. At 4 am, exhausted, I fell back to sleep.
The next morning, when I confided to Thea that I could not sleep, she was supportive but firm. “Mark, this is crazy. Who are you doing this for – God, or MARK?” Great question. When I spoke to Katie about my case of “nerves”, she calmly said “Just let the Spirit work, and things will be fine.” Good advice and I decided to do just that. Friday night before the retreat, I slept like a baby, and the retreat itself went like a dream. Sixteen of the seventeen rsvp’s actually showed up. The PowerPoint presentation went fantastic; the role playing and practice presentations were much better than I had any right to expect; and Lori Springer turned out to be a real pro, very inspirational. During one of our practice presentations, a member of the audience jumped up and went up to the speaker and said, “You were terrific, I am giving the first $20,” and handed her a donation for the program. Everyone cheered.
I arrived home tired, excited, and (unfortunately) unchanged. Immediately, I began to think about collating the evaluations to see how Lori and I (mainly “I”!) had done. Thea, who had been working at the Inn all day, was not amused. In fact, she was downright irritated that I did not want to spend what remained of the day with her. Chastened, I agreed to walk to the store and share how the retreat had gone. Later that evening, we watched a CD. BUT, the next day (Sunday) after Mass, I again sat down to collate the evaluations. Again, Thea rebelled: “Mark, I am really tired of you taking our free time together to do work. This is supposed to be an extra, fun thing for you to do. You are making it into a full time job!” Bingo. Again I put the evaluations aside. Thea and I went for another walk in the neighborhood and came home and watched the Masters. We both cried when Phil Mickelson won and embraced his ill wife (she has breast cancer) on the 18th green. That evening as I got ready for bed, I reflected on the day. I realized that instead of getting angry at Thea for not letting me look at the evaluations, I should have thanked her for wanting to spend time with me. It’s a real blessing after 36 years of marriage to have a wife that actually WANTS to spend leisure time with her husband.
So, this morning, finally, I got to review the evaluations from the fundraising retreat. They were excellent with many positive comments. There was only one mildly negative comment suggesting that the PowerPoint presentation could have been shorter and that we might have been better served to have more brainstorming from the group. I was elated at the feedback: many of the participants are enthusiastic about raising funds for the program and are planning to make and solicit donations. We now need to work to make sure that everyone follows through.
As I sit here reviewing this blog, I am amused by my behavior. In planning for the fundraising day, I thought that everything depended upon me. Of course, it did not. I thought that I was doing everything by myself. Obviously untrue. And I still believed that I should be perfect …ridiculous. I need to take Thea and Katie’s advice and “Let the Spirit work!” …Of course, it goes without saying that I also think that the one person was wrong: we didn’t need more brainstorming …
Just kidding!!!

Danny

2010-04-12T09:57:00.003-04:00

Thea and I have written from time to time about the various "characters" that come to the St. Francis Inn. There's football-helmeted Harry, "Big Bill", the ex-state trooper, violent Leon (now being sought by police), Vito, Jimmie, and a host of others. One of the most enigmatic is Danny, not so affectionately called "Drunk Danny" by most of us.

Danny was one of the first of our guests that I knew by name when we arrived here. When he is sober (rare), he is very engaging. He's probably in his 40's but it's hard to tell because the ravages of alcohol, drugs, HIV, and street living have taken their toll. Before his decline, Danny had a wife, family, and a job, but for whatever reason, his fascination with drugs and alcohol ruined that part of his life. Since September, there has been a heart-wrenching progression in Danny's outward story. (As with all of us, it is really difficult to know what lies in his heart -- I am only telling you what I can see and observe.)

When Thea and I first arrived, Danny came to all the meals. I remember that he was fairly lucid, could carry on a conversation, and was not visibly drunk. He is, I believe, of Irish descent, and this probably contributed to his getting into lively verbal exchanges with some of the other guests. But, in those days, Danny was rarely too far "out of line". In sum, he was a colorful, a little rowdy, interesting guest.

As the fall progressed, Danny began his descent. He showed up at the Inn drunk more and more often. Sometimes, our staff judged him so drunk that he was banned from entering our yard because we feared that he would get into a fight with other guests. One horrible night in November, Leon, our neighborhood's "enforcer", saw Danny passed out drunk on our steps. Leon went ballistic and for no reason that I could think, beat the ***** out of him. Danny ended up bleeding profusely and Mary K (one of our current FVM's) and I patched him up until the ambulance arrived to take him to the hospital. A warrant was issued for Leon, who left the neighborhood that night and has not been seen since.

When Danny returned from the hospital, he looked much older. As winter continued, Danny drank more and more. On many occasions he came to the yard during meals and panhandled the staff and guests: "Hey, Man, can you give me $0.30 toward a token? I have got to take the El downtown for an important appointment." We all knew that Danny had NO important appointments -- he needed the money to buy a beer or heroin.

I remember one awful evening when Danny showed up drunk before a meal and tried to get money from Fr. Michael. Father responded with something like: "Danny, you are drunk, and I am NOT giving you any money for ANYTHING. I love you too much to give you money." Danny responded in an angry yelling voice: "So, you love me so much, well you have a funny way of showing it. I am only asking for a F****ing $0.30!" All of us watched as Danny, out of his mind with alcohol, approached person after person in the yard begging for a dime, a quarter, anything. Everyone rejected him. I remember feeling a deep sadness and pity for him. Eventually, Danny turned violent, cursing and yelling at everyone until some of the huge young guys from our AA program (directly across the street from the Inn) came over and literally dragged him away kicking and cursing.

About three weeks ago, I was on the gate and Danny came by. He looked horrible -- pasty, bloated face with several open sores, dirty, smelly clothes and body, no hair (fallen out as a result of the HIV) -- and, of course he was drunk out of his mind. I asked him if he wanted a meal (to go) because in his condition, I would not allow him in the yard. He responded, "No, man, I just want alcohol!" A few nights later, Danny was sitting on Thea and my house's front steps. The walls are thin, and I could hear him talking to Vito, who also frequents our front steps. "Vito", Danny said, "I'm dying. Got pneumonia, both lungs. I'm dying man....dying. Do you hear what I am saying, Man? I'm f***ing dying!"

I didn't see Danny for a couple of weeks after that. I feared the worst -- years of drinking and drugs had finally killed him. But, no... a few days ago, Brother Fred told me that Danny had stopped drinking! And, yesterday, as I handed out tickets for the meal, here comes Danny -- sober. I couldn't believe it. He certainly still looks sick, but he also looks so much better. His facial sores are healed; his color is pale, not grey; and he doesn't look so tired and on the verge of death. I greeted him: "Danny, you look great! How long have you been sober?" Danny smiled and said: "Nine days, man...haven't drunk in nine days!" I congratulated him, told him that he is in my prayers, and sent him inside to get his meal. I flashed on the courage that the man has to confront his demons in the face of so many obstacles. I wondered if I would stop drinking if my own death from HIV were fast approaching. Maybe, maybe not.

I don't know what will happen to Danny. He still has full blown HIV, and he still is dying. However, at least for now, he is sober and able to function. And, when you think about it, Danny is really no different than all of us. We have ups and downs; sometimes we handle our addictions and dark spots well, sometimes not so well. Sometimes we listen to God speaking in our lives, and at other times we block Him out with "legal drugs" like alcohol, tobacco, television, or mindless paperbacks. No, we are not so different from Danny.

I will continue to pray for Danny, realizing that I am also praying for myself, because there, but for the grace of God go I.

Historical Philadelphia

2010-04-09T14:38:00.005-04:00

There are many disadvantages with urban living. Philadelphia is the 5th largest city in America, and with its size comes substantial traffic, crime, litter and poverty. However, there are some amenities that occur as well: cultural events, mass transit, professional sports and historical monuments. This past year we had a visit from my sister Cecilia and her husband Robert. We found ourselves proudly taking them out for cheesesteaks, pointing out the beautiful skyline and bridges over the Delaware River, and traveling by the El to Center City. We visited the Old City, and marveled at the Liberty Bell's story. We had an excellent walking tour of the locations for the first and second Continental Congress. We saw Betsy Ross's house and the childhood home of Dolly Todd Madison. We also spent a day at Valley Forge Historical Park, thirty minutes outside of the city. We saw replicas of the huts where the Continental Army spent four months in the winter of 1778. We learned that 1 of 10 soldiers who wintered there died of disease, but that smallpox innoculations were given to the troops and so that dread disease did not cause many deaths. The Prussian Baron von Steuben drilled the troops through the winter so that by the spring, Washington's troops were able to fight in a more orderly and efficient manner. Once the British left Philadelphia, the Continental army followed them and ultimately defeated them with the help of the French. We felt a kinship with those men and women who lived over 200 years ago and had the desire to become independent of a distant government. If these people lived today we would call them rebels or perhaps anarchists. Through the lense of history, we call them patriots.

Alleluia, the Lord Has Risen

2010-04-03T19:26:00.003-04:00

It has been interesting celebrating Lent and the three special days of Holy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday here in Philadelphia. Lent began with cold, gray weather and snow storms. Today, Easter Sunday, the city is in full bloom, the temperatures are near 70, and all of nature seems to have risen from dormancy. Here at the Inn our hearts are glad. We have tried to be steadfast in our Lenten sacrifices. We have had liturgies with music that reflected the theme of turning our hearts closer to God. We have remembered the Passion and Death of Our Lord. Now we are celebrating the triumph of life over death.

Yet there is still sadness in the world. Outside my door as I write this, Danny is stretched out on the sidewalk, perpetually drunk, dying of AIDS. We hear that someone was shot down the street a few days ago. Tiffany, a young mother of 4, comes to the Inn saying she is homeless. She has been tossed from her mother's house because she is perpetually high on drugs. Two members of the staff get her into a shelter. Two days later, she is back on the streets because she wouldn't follow the rules.

Yet my faith tells me that good does triumph over evil, that Jesus rose and promises eternal life. Somehow, the followers of the Risen Christ need to get that message across to the people of Kensington and all those who feel lost and forsaken.

Spring in New York City

2010-03-31T20:04:00.002-04:00

We made another trip to the Big Apple today as a special celebration for my birthday. This time we rode the BoltBus directly from Philly to Penn Station. It was very comfortable and only took 2 hours. We had breakfast at a deli, then took the subway uptown,then a bus to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. We spent several hours thoroughly enjoying the works of Monet, Renoir, Degas and Van Gogh. We also were intrigued by a special exhibit on musical instruments of Oceania. There were a variety of drums, flutes, shell trumpets and mouth harps taken from islands in the South Pacific. They were beautifully carved and had ceremonial as well as musical functions. We walked across Central Park, then got take-out from a wonderful deli and ate it in the Strawberry Fields section of the park. We returned home by 7:00 pm. It was a delightful day.

Nonviolent Confrontation

2010-03-28T07:45:00.002-04:00

When Mark and I first arrived at the Inn, we were instructed as to what we should do if there were a fight. Staff members were to surround the two parties and separate them from each other. If the fight took place in the yard, one of the parties involved should be moved to the street; the other party taken through the Inn and out a different door to a different street. If there were weapons, the police were to be called immediately.
There have been a number of altercations since we arrived, but in most cases the guests have been separated and no physical blows have taken place. The staff on duty are always watchful, and the guests themselves alert us to any impending problems. They want to keep the St. Francis Inn as a peaceful place in their sometimes violent world.
Friday I was on duty giving out tickets, and Mark was doing lineup at the door. Dorothy and Richard came to the meal as they do most days. Richard is a middle aged man, about 220 pounds, built like a refrigerator. I have a very good relationship with them; in fact, I helped them with their taxes. While I was giving out tickets, Richard kept coming over to me, telling me about another guest that was present. Richard claimed this other man (whom I didn't know) had at one time broken into Richard's house. There seemed to be some disagreement dealing with money. Meanwhile, this other man was making comments to Richard. I told Richard to ignore the other guy.
About 30 minutes later, Dorothy is yelling that Richard is going to be killed and to help him. I see Richard charging the other guest. I get in front of him and in a calm voice tell him to stop, to leave the other guy alone and to leave the yard through the Inn. Alfredo, a deaf-mute, is moving along side of me, trying to back Richard away. Someone else ( possibly a guest, I never saw who it was) has grabbed the other man and moved him out of the yard into the sidewalk. Mark has called into the Inn for help, and Barb comes flying out and shuts the gate behind the other man. Despite the fact the man has left, Richard is still angry and is trying to chase after him. I call on Big Bill, another guest, for assistance. By this time several other staff have come out. Richard's heart is thumping very hard, which is not good since he has been in the hospitla recently for heart problems. Dorothy is crying hysterically, and I try to calm her down.
I finally move back to my post. This whole event has taken less than 10 minutes. We keep the gate closed for a while, opening it to let guests in and out. The other guy came back two times, but he was warned away. Everything returned to normal. In fact, I doubt that that very many of the guests we served or the volunteers present on Friday knew what had happened.
Later that afternoon, I reflected on what happened and why it happened. I was never in any physical danger, but I believed my action and that of the guests who helped me prevented physical harm from occurring to Richard and the other man. We defused the situtation, at least temporarily. I realize that the animosity that is present between them might manifest itself somewhere else in the neighborhood. I pray it does not. I am thankful I reacted quickly and correctly, but I honestly hope I do not have to use these skills again.

Money, the Root of All...Good?

2010-03-25T10:48:00.003-04:00

I don't mean to brag, but I have always thought that Thea and I have been very responsible with our money. Beginning at age 30 we began to save for our retirement. We have always tithed our income, giving 10% to the church and to various charities (OK, so it was 10% AFTER taxes most years, but nobody's perfect!). We have always lived below our means, living in a good, but not great, house...driving bottom-of-the-line, but reliable cars...paying for our children's college and helping with their graduate school. Our house is paid for, and we have no debts. I really thought that, at least in this one area of our lives, we were meeting God's expectations for us.

Then, a couple of weeks ago, came the homily...Father Michael, again. He spoke about money and its role in our lives. The purpose of money, he stated, was to do good in the world, to further God's kingdom on earth. We are to use our resources, not solely for our own needs and desires, but also for the needs of others. He challenged each of us to review how we use our money and to ask ourselves if we were using it wisely and justly.

As I left Mass that morning, I remember feeling uneasy. I began thinking about the rather extravagant trips that Thea and I have taken over the years. Not that they were bad in and of themselves, but was spending thousands of dollars to take our children and ourselves to Egypt really the best use of our money? More importantly, I realized that my philosopy of money was simple: I was making a deal with God. Lord, I am giving you this 10% for Your purposes, but I get to do what I want with the remaining 90%." In reflecting on Father Michael's challenge, my attitude sounded a lot like that of the Pharasees: I am following the letter of the law, but at times my heart is far from God.

In my last blog I wrote about the questions that Thea had put in her spiritual exercise for us, the ones about "What would we remember about St. Francis Inn a year from now" and "How had the SFI experience changed us?". Well, her third question was "What is God saying to us about the use of our money?" As I reflected on this, I realized that God is asking Thea and me to be more prudent and thoughtful about how we are using our money. Thea felt the same way, and during our sharing on the retreat we resolved to look at ALL of our money (not just 10%) as a gift from God. When you think about it, everything we have, beginning with life itself, is a gift from God, and that includes all of our money.

I am not sure how this all will play out in practical terms, especially when we return to Hickory. Clearly, money is to be used for many necessities. We all must have food, clothes, gas for the car, electricity, water, and the like. We also should use some money for our own pleasure. Interestingly, earlier this week, I had the occasion to spend 3 hours doing food pick-ups with Fr. Michael. When I related the effect that his homily had had upon Thea and me, his first reaction was "Remember, you should begin by using some of your money for yourselves." So, Father Michael is not suggesting that we give everything away and live life on the streets. In fact he is saying that the FIRST thing we should do with our money is to take care of our own needs and fulfillment.

However, we still are left with the challenge of how best to spend our money in a balanced, thoughful way. One thing that Thea and I have resolved to do is to look carefully at our world travel and to have a "spritual" and a "charitable" component to all major trips. For instance, we have always wanted to go to Bolivia and to Lake Titicaca. We had planned to fly to Lima, take the train to the Bolivian border, book a tour of the Lake, and return home. Our initial plan included staying in nice hotels, eating good food, and being "upper middle class" tourists.

Now, we are considering the option of visiting Father Ignatius, a Franciscan friar who has a mission in Cochabamba, Bolivia, and spending a week doing service with him. During our time, we would look for a small project that needs a financial donation and before leaving, make that gift. Then, we would do a side trip to Lake Titicaca, be tourists for a few days, and return home.

Will we actually do this? Only time will tell, but Thea and I do believe that we must be more thoughtful and just in how we utilize the financial gifts we have recieved. Please pray for us that we will make just, balanced decisions that will further God's Kingdom.

Retreat

2010-03-23T13:27:00.005-04:00

Last week, Thea and I spent two days at the retreat center in Aston, Pa. run by the Allegheny Franciscan Sisters. We stayed in adjoining two-room hermitages which allowed for separate time to pray and reflect but for togetherness at meals and bedtime. As one of our disciplines for the time away, Thea and I each prepared a spiritual activity to share. Mine had to do with seeing God in nature and using the quiet of the surroundings to ask God what He is calling us to do when we return to Hickory. It was a nice activity, but Thea's exercise turned out to be more meaningful for us. Her activity was a series of questions which began with: 1) A year from now, what specific events will I remember from our time at the St. Francis Inn? and 2) How have I changed since I have been at the Inn?

We separated, went to a comfortable spot, and wrote out our answers to the questions. I remember reflecting for a moment on the first question and then beginning to write. Almost immediately I stopped. I realized, with surprise, that I could remember many things ABOUT our experience here at the Inn, but nothing SPECIFIC. I remembered the warm feelings I felt celebrating the Mass at the start of most days. I remembered the general tasks of serving our guests -- everything from washing dishes and cleaning bathrooms to picking up food donations and coordinating meals -- and the feeling of peace that these activities gave to me. However, there was no special events that immediately came to mind. I stated that my time at the Inn had been very "even", not many sharp ups or downs, just a nice, level experience. As I reflected further, I finally did remember one specific experience.

One evening in the fall, there was a horrible fight right outside the Inn. The neighborhood bully, Leon, had severely beaten up "Drunk Danny", an alcoholic that was sleeping on our steps. After I broke up the fight and sent Leon away, Mary Kate (one of our post-college Franciscan Volunteer Ministers) and I took Danny inside and sat him down. He was bleeding heavily from a gash over his eye and from his nose. The fact that he has full blown AIDS complicated the situation. Donning gloves, Mary Kate stopped the bleeding and I called 911. After a while, the ambulance came and took Danny to the hospital where he was released the next morning.

As I continued my reflection, I realized that, while the fight was certainly memorable, it was positively amazing that this was the only specific event that I could recall from over 7 MONTHS (200+ days!) at the St. Francis Inn. Thea's reflection was equally short. She remembered only two specific incidents. The first was consoling a distraught mother whose child had been killed in a car accident caused by her DUI husband. The second was Thea being locked in the Inn's walk-in freezer for 10 minutes, after which she extricated herself. Thea was also surprised that there were so few "highlights" from our time here that she would remember in a year's time.

Next, I turned my attention to the question of how being at the Inn had changed me. Now, the ink flowed. I wrote that I felt much less aggressive and controlling than when I first came to the Inn...much more able to go with the flow of a situation...more balanced. I wrote that I was more concerned with the feelings of others and less likely to fly off the handle if something didn't go according to plan. Overall, I wrote, "I feel calmer than before." Thea wrote that she is now more tolerant and accepting of poor people, people with mental illness, and the homeless. Before coming to the St. Francis Inn, Thea said that she was "mentally tolerant" of the homeless but now, knowing many of them personally, she feels love for them in her heart. Thea also wrote that she is less impatient of others and more open to alternative ways of getting jobs done than she used to be.

After we finished writing, Thea and I discussed our answers. We were both surprised that we didn't remember more specific events from our service and equally surprised that our time at the Inn had resulted in significant changes in our feelings and attitudes toward the world. Then, almost simultaneously, it hit us: the main beneficiaries of our service to the poor have been Thea and Mark! We realized that God has worked through this experience to minister to each of us in very important ways. We have been truly served and changed by our experience with the St. Francis Inn and its clients.

I would like to think that we have also served and been God's instruments to the Inn's guests. Certainly, this has been the case, but it is interesting that when Thea and I reflect on our experiences, it is the changes in each of us that come to mind, and not our service to others.

Last year when we were preparing to come to the Inn, people would ask me why I was doing this year of service. I would reply that Thea and I really wanted to serve God's poor but that (and I am quoting myself exactly now) "we will probably get more out of this experience than the poor will." At the time, I thought that I was being humble. Now, a year later, I truly see the validity of that statement. God works in mysterious ways!

To Give or Not to Give?

2010-03-19T18:34:00.002-04:00

Last Sunday, after the meal was over, I (Thea) walked to the grocery store for a few items. On my return to our rowhouse, a thirty-something male was standing on the sidewalk. His name was Terrence. He asked where he could find the closest church. I started to tell him, and he interrupted to tell me his story.
On Thursday, he had received word that the mother of his 13 year old daughter had died here in Kensington of an overdose. He had taken the bus from Allentown, PA to Philly. After taking a local bus to the neighborhood, he was unable to enter the house where his wife had died. It was taped off as a crime scene. He went around the corner to get a cup of coffee. He had a bag with his clothes, wallet and personal items. He set it down on the ground. After paying for his coffee, he turned around and the bag was gone. He had no money, no i.d., nothing. He called his mother, who was willing to wire $12 for bus fare, but he had no identification so couldn't pick up the money. A stranger allowed him to spend the night at his house and gave him some food. Saturday he wandered around, looking for help, and spent the night on the street. Now it was Sunday, and someone had told him about the Inn. However, no one was there since the meal had been over for several hours. Could I help him?
Mark and I have a basic policy that we do not give cash to the people here. We were betrayed by guests early in our time here who said they needed a dollar for a token, and later we saw them walking around with alcohol. So we don't carry cash with us so we can say we have no money. However, this man's story seemed truthful. I had Mark come out and talk to him, and we decided to take him to the Greyhound station ourselves and buy the ticket for him. If he was not interested in going to Allentown, we would probably know by the time we got to the station.
We got directions to the station from another team member, and set off for downtown. When we got close to the station, it was a madhouse. The street was one-way, and people were being dropped off, taxis were parked in the street, and there was no parking nearby. I had Mark drop Terrence and me off and we went into the building. Inside it was just as crazy. There was one line for tickets to New York City, and all the other destinations were served by a single agent. I could not find any schedule of departures, nor prices for tickets. The customer service desk was vacant. Someone in the line believed there was a bus going to Allentown at 4:30 for $13.20. I left Terrence in line and went back out to Mark in the car, to tell him that the line was going very slowly. He was illegally parked, and I knew I needed to get back out to him. Between the two of us we came up with exactly $13.20. I went back to Terrence and gave him the money. He gave me a hug and thanked me profusely. We are assuming he got on the bus, went back to Allentown and his daughter.
Did we make a mistake giving Terrence the money? I put myself in his position, and could imagine something like that happening to me--losing my money, credit cards,etc in a strange place and relying on the kindness of a stranger to save me. On the other hand, if this was a con, it was a very good one. I was willing to take the risk of being manipulated rather than omit doing something good.

Forgive 70 times 7

2010-03-10T17:58:00.002-05:00

Every morning we begin our day at the Inn with a Catholic Mass. Attendance is not required; however, it is a wonderful way to get strength for our day and center ourselves on what is important. Several days each week, various people who attend AA and NA meetings across the street join us.
Yesterday the readings were on forgiveness--how God forgives us and how we must forgive others. Fr. Pat talked about how hard this is because as humans we like to "keep score." If one truly forgives, one must not keep count of the hurts. After he finished speaking, he invited all present to share their thoughts on the reading. Obviously, the message had touched a chord with several present. One woman talked about how she could quickly come up with 9 relationships that she had, and how she was constantly dredging up past hurts to explain her behavior toward these people. Another man said he had been struggling with forgiving a person for 3 years, and that his resentment of this individual had attributed to his problems with sobriety. To me, the most emotional sharing came from a man who said he had come from Jersey to commit a crime. He had planned to kill a man, but seeing the man come from his home and the children inside the house had stopped him. He saw himself as basically a good person, but his target had done something terrible and he was seeking revenge. He asked for prayers for himself to keep him from following through on his plan. I had never seen this man before, and wondered what had drawn him that morning to our little chapel on the day that mercy and forgiveness were the topics.
All of us present had people who had hurt us and people we needed to forgive. In some cases, the lack of forgiveness had led to extreme changes in behavior and life choices. Every day I see people whose lives have been altered because they forgave or did not forgive. I hope I can continue to make the choice to forgive.

One Day at a Time

2010-03-06T13:30:00.003-05:00

One of the blessings of life at here St. Francis Inn is that we begin each day with Mass-- it reminds us of the One Source of our energy to serve the poor. Part of each Mass is music which is selected each day by a different person. Reflecting each person's personality, the music varies. We've had traditional hymns, songs from the "Spirit and Song" book, selections from Mendelssohn and Bach, even Pink Floyd. But Fridays are special: these are the days that Brother Xavier brings his songs to us. They can vary, depending upon his mood, but usually it is country music ... classic country...not electric guitars and Nashville production but old, twangy, down home country. We've had Loretta Lynn, Johnny Cash, Patsy Cline, etc., etc.

I have to admit something personal: I am a bit of a music snob. I have a personal hierarchy of musical quality. At the top is classical, followed by good jazz, then pop and contemporary Christian, rock and roll, high production country, and then blues and soul. All of these rank above classic country, and the only thing lower than that is rap. So, when Friday rolls around and I see Brother Xav poised by the cassette player (these songs are so old that they probably aren't even available on DVD's!), I gird my loins. To date, we have endured twangy, mangy versions of "I Walk the Line", "Down By the River", "Nearer My God to Thee", "When the Lord Reached Down to Me", and "Old Rugged Cross". All this, when we could have been listening to Twyla Paris (e.g. "How Beautiful"), Amy Grant, or the Brooklyn Tabernacle choir. It is unconscionable, and at some level, I know Xavier loves to torment us with his selections.

Yesterday, a Friday, I was steeling myself to the inevitable again as Xavier proclaimed: "I have booked Christy Lane this AM!" I thought to myself ("O joy!") as he hit the play button. A deep south country voice began with the chorus: "One day at a time, Sweet Jesus"....That's all I'm asking from you... Just give me the strength to do every day what I have to do.....Yesterday's gone, sweet Jesus and tomorrow may never be mine ... Lord help me today, show me the way, one day at a time."

As Christy settled into the first verse, I noticed that this was no longer a solo. A ragged, scratchy voice from our congregation was accompanying her: Anna Mae, one of our drug addict guests was singing along. Anna Mae is about 5 ft. tall, probably about 60, but looks much older. She's had a rough, rough life and currently is battling a host of diseases including cancer. She lived on the street for a long time and the St. Francis staff kept sending her to housing. She'd stay awhile but kept returning to her community -- Kensington. Today, she has an apartment, but is still frail (95 lbs.) and haggard. Despite this, she comes to the Inn most days, not to eat, but to attend Mass and to see her friends. She also, apparently, loves "One Day at a Time" because she sang the entire song, word for word, including the bridge, perfectly.

As I listened, I thought to myself: "Isn't it amazing how God works." This song, which was OK and would have ordinarily merited a modest level of attention, now spoke to me strongly. Here was a frail, old, sick lady singing what was obviously her philosophy of life for all to hear. Unashamedly, unabashedly, even proudly. And, when I reflected, I realized that this really should be ALL of our philosophies. Yesterday IS gone; tomorrow is NOT assured; and today IS all we have. We all should live one day at a time. I left mass resolving to re-commit myself to live this way and to seize each moment.

Throughout the day, I enjoyed cooking, washing dishes, passing out needed toiletry items to our guests. And you know what, about every third person I met was happily humming the chorus to "One Day at a Time".

Amazing how God works.

From Mountaintop to Valley and Back

2010-03-05T10:24:00.006-05:00

About 35 years ago, Mark and I went on a Marriage Encounter Weekend. One of the ideas we embraced was that marriage went through stages of romance, disillusionment, and joy, and these stages were repeated over and over throughout married life. After 6 months at the St. Francis Inn, Mark and I have also been through these phases. When we first arrived, we were excited about our new ministry of service. We were busy learning how to get to the various pickup locations, learning the names of volunteers and guests, acclimating ourselves to the physical work, different climate, simplicity of living--the first two months were a whirlwind of activity. By November, however, we knew the routine pretty well. The reality of our decision to come here and be little cogs in the wheel hit us. It didn't matter that Mark had been a successful director of a nonprofit or that I had been an outstanding high school science teacher for the state of NC. In fact, in the soup kitchen hierarchy, we were at the bottom of the food chain. Local volunteers who had been coming to the Inn for 8 or 20 or 30 years saw our 10 months of service as a grain of sand on the beach. Mark's talent at raising money did not give him any advantage when it came to keeping order in the lineup. I had to accept that I was really nothing, at that everything I had was a gift from God, be it intellect, ability to organize things, our home, our family, my health...everything. Humility has never been a strong virtue of mine, and I have to pray for it each and every day. We both had an "aha" experience in early February when the meditation at morning prayer was about ministering not just to the guests but to "build relationships with those we meet." We meet lots of people every day, including the volunteers who come weekly and the groups who come for a week and work. We realized part of our ministry was to insure these volunteers had a great experience, even if it meant we sat on our hands and let them do things incorrectly or inefficiently.
So now we are at a plateau. I would not say we have attained "true joy." I am trying to ignore the fact that some volunteers refuse to recycle, and so I go through the trash bag after they leave and take out the plastic and cardboard. I am trying to be less critical of the younger volunteers who have trouble getting up in the morning and being in the kitchen on time. If a high school student stops in the middle of mopping the floor and starts chatting, I make a joke and get the mopping back on track. Mark and I are Type A personalities, and it is difficult, but by changing our point of view we can enjoy our assignments more. What will be really interesting is whether we can continue with this attitude when we return to Hickory, or whether we will revert to our former style of getting things done.

The Meat Locker

2010-02-25T15:44:00.002-05:00

Yesterday, I entered our large walk-in freezer to get some meat. When I tried to push the door open to exit, it was locked. I had been told that it was impossible to be locked in the freezer; that there was a fail safe mechanism that prevented it from happening. But here I was with the frozen chicken and no one could hear me yell or kick the door. I looked down at the handle. There were instructions written on the door that indicated that rotating the handle would open the door. I turned the handle, pushed, but nothing happened.
I have read enough books about people being stranded on top of high mountains like the Andes or K2 to know it takes awhile for hypothermia to kill a person. I was dressed in a turtleneck with a fleece vest, pants, socks and tennis shoes. After a few minutes, my hands were already pretty cold, but otherwise I felt okay. I jumped up and down a few times to warm myself. I said a prayer for help, and it had a calming effect. I took stock of what was in the freezer that could help me--nothing that I could see. There was no fire alarm, no way to turn the blower off. I had a cell phone, but no cell service at all. There was a seam around the door that would let air in, so I was not worried about suffocating. It was 3:15; the meal started at 4:30 and I already had been assigned a job. Would anyone come looking for me if I didn't show up? I decided to dial Mark's phone and place it at the door seam. While I could not hear if Mark answered, I just yelled into the phone that I was in the freezer. When the phone disconnected due to lack of service, I returned my attention to the door. There had to be a way to turn the lock and get out.

I visualized myself curled up, passed out on the floor, discovered by the cook the next morning. I hoped that a hardened Team member would find me, and not a sensitive coed from Sienna College who would be scarred for life by the event. I started rotating the handle once again, trying different positions. I kicked the door again, and suddenly it opened. I was free!

I went out into the dining room where only Mary, the coordinator and a former FVM were talking. I told her I had been locked in the freezer. About that time Mark arrived, wondering what I had called him about, and why had I hung up the phone on him. I have to admit, I had tears in my eyes of relief. I was never really in danger, and intellectually I knew that, but as my hands got colder, there was that insidious fear that I might not find a way out. I reflected quite a bit on how I had responded, my feelings while imprisoned, and Who and who I had called upon. I am not unhappy with my responses. The story of my trial quickly made the rounds, and several other staff members confessed they had also been locked in, some fairly recently. I can laugh at myself, but I am glad I know what to do if I ever have a repeat of the experience.

Scripture and Grace

2010-02-23T11:07:00.001-05:00

Recently Father Michael gave a homily on the major sources of grace in our lives. He listed the Eucharist, the love of Jesus we get through our relationships with others, and the Holy Scriptures. At the time, I remember being a little uncomfortable with this. I certainly feel the presence of God in the Eucharist and regularly feel Him talking to me through other people. However, Father Michael suggested that we as Catholics do not read the Bible as much as we ought to, and as I examined my own life, I had to admit that he is right.

I (Mark) have never actually read the Bible cover to cover. Oh sure, I have read sections -- usually during retreats or other "special" times -- and I have read the passages associated with celebrations of the Eucharist. But, I have never sat down over a series of days, weeks, or months and read the Bible in its entirety, and so to begin to rectify this, my Lenten resolution is to read the New Testament during the next 40 days. It is, of course, still early in the process, but I am already pleasantly surprised at some of the insights that the Scriptures are giving me.

The first is how "dense" the 12 apostles were. According to Matthew's Gospel, Jesus performed numerous miracles early in His ministry. Included were the cures of the demonic man, Peter's mother-in-law, the leper, the paralyzed man on the Sabbath, the man with the withered hand, the demonic man in Geresa (the Legion of spirits went into the swine herd which then rushed into the sea and downed), the woman with the hemorrhage, and the raising of Jairius' daughter from the dead, not to mention the feeding of the 5000, the feeding of the 4000, the calming of the winds when the disciples' boat was about to sink and walking on water. And these are just the "special" miracles mentioned. There were many people who were cured by simply touching Jesus' clothes or were healed "en masse" when He made "teaching appearances" before vast crowds. Despite this, we see the apostles asking questions like, "Who is this that even the wind and waves obey him" and "who is the greatest among us?" Mark 25, verses 51 and 52 sum it up: "They were taken aback by these happenings for they had not understood about the loaves. On the contrary, their minds were completely closed of the meaning of the events."

In a similar fashion, Jesus on three separate occasions (Matthew 16: 21 - 22, Matthew 17: 22 - 23, and 20: 17 - 19) specifically tells the apostles that in Jerusalem, He will be handed over to the priests/scribes, condemned, and crucified but that He will rise after three days. On the first occasion, Peter tells Jesus that this surely cannot happen; in the second, the disciples are too afraid to question this; and in the third instance, James and John ask Jesus for a seat at His right and left in the Kingdom. No, the apostles are not exactly quick studies. Even at the crucifixion itself, Peter ("You are rock and upon this rock I will build my church!") bolts along with everyone else and denies Jesus three times. After all that the apostles had seen and done (curing people and casting out demons in Jesus' name), it is almost impossible to believe that they still lacked faith in Him, but this was the case. It took the appearance of Jesus to them after His resurrection to convince them of His divinity.

Another thing that I never realized was how insanely busy Jesus was during His public ministry.
As described in Mark's gospel, Jesus' life was series of public appearances to teach and heal the sick and to spar with the Jewish officials about the true meaning of God's will on Earth. In Mark, chapter 1, Jesus calls His disciples and then begins almost a non-stop "whistle-stop tour" of the area. He cures the demonic and Peter's mother-in-law, and many "from the whole town" of Capernaum, goes to the neighboring villages where he cures many along with the leper. He then returns to Capernaum and cures the paralytic who is lowered through the roof of the house where Jesus is preaching, spars with the Pharisees over the question of fasting and the Sabbath and cures the man with the withered hand and then withdraws to the Sea of Galilee. The crowd is so great that he must stand in the boat to avoid getting crushed as He teaches. He teaches and cures many and then tries to go to a quiet place across the lake. People hear about it and rush to the place whereupon Jesus has to teach them again. Then, He tries to withdraw to another place and once, again, the crowd catches up.

Reading these accounts over the early chapters of Mark's gospel is exhausting. It is simply incredible that so much was asked of Jesus. He, literally, had no time to rest. He was reduced to withdrawing to quiet places in the desert in the middle of the night and early morning before others were awake! Every place the Poor Man went, he was besieged by needy people, or authorities trying to trap him into a mistake.

All of this, I believe, has real lessons for us in our lives. First, it is OK for us to have doubts and to not be perfect in our faith journey. The 12 apostles were with Jesus every day for three years and still didn't get the point. We should be patient with ourselves and, like the disciples, rely on Jesus' mercy to ultimately convert us with His gift of faith. Second, we should serve others where we can but also take time to rest. Every so often, Jesus would withdraw "for a time" to pray and reconnect with the Father. This is a good example for us in our busy lives.

Stay tuned as I work my way through the New Testament. It is truly amazing what's in there!

Bird Number 662

2010-02-17T19:43:00.003-05:00

Every now and then it is good to get away from the Inn and do something totally unrelated to the inner city poor. We have been happily surprised by the large birding community in Pennsylvania, New Jersey and Delaware, and even joined a birding club. The Delaware Valley Ornithological Society (DVOC) has numerous field trips as well as two meetings each month. We decided to join a group heading to Canada over the President's Day weekend, despite weather forecasts of snow and temperatures near zero.

We left our house at 3 am Saturday morning and went to a Park and Ride Lot on the west side of Philly. From there it was a straight shot up the Pennsylvania Turnpike, through New York and across the border to Ontario. By 11 am we were in Ottawa, where we were met by a local birder. Mark and I had two birds we were "chasing": a duck called Barrow's Goldeneye, and an owl called the Northern Hawk Owl. Both had been seen frequently in the Ottawa area. The owl has been the #1 bird on Mark's "GO" list for some time, so seeing it would be very exciting.

Despite the best efforts of our local guide, neither bird appeared in Ottawa. At dusk we left the area, and headed farther south along Lake Ontario.

At 6:30 am Sunday we were out of the hotel and heading for a car ferry to take us to Amherst Island. Mark and I had visited there in 1984, and had an incredible experience viewing northern owls that had invaded the island due to a population explosion of voles (small rodents). However, this year there were no voles, and no owls either. The other 6 birders with us were very disappointed.

Our leader was still optimistic that we could find some other rarities. We visited a provincial park about an hour away and scanned hundreds of ducks sitting out in the water. After about an hour we were rewarded with a single male Barrow's Goldeneye. Mark and I were elated, as were most of the other birders--a new bird for the life list.

At dark we headed west to Gravenhurst and a hotel on the shore of a huge frozen lake. The hotel was full of Canadians on holiday with their snowmobiles. We also saw people ice sailing (the boat has sails but glides on the ice) and ice surfing. These Canadians are hardy souls.

At dinner we took a census of who had to go to work on Tuesday and who did not. One of the drivers, like us, had Tuesday off. Two other birders were unemployed. Mark suggested that we try again for the Hawk Owl at another location. It would add about two hours to the trip, but the owl had been seen reliably in a tree near a farm since November, and I had the directions. So after birding in Algonquin Provincial Park, half of the group headed for home and half went to find the owl, armed with our trusty GPS. Only Dennis had seen the owl before; it would be new for Dan, our driver, Mark and I.

We arrived at the location, and after about 10 minutes, Dennis saw the bird in a tree about 400 yards away. We got it in our spotting scope, and indeed it was the bird. However, it was backlit and one could not really make out the characteristics. We decided to get closer and drove up a side road. We relocated the bird, who kept flying off to find food and returning to its perch. Our second look was much better and we could see all the field marks. After about 30 minutes, we got back into the car and started our drive back to Philly. Mark and I got in at 1 am Tuesday, tired but fulfilled, and ready to meet the needs of the urban poor.

Health, Science, and Grace

2010-02-11T07:27:00.003-05:00

It is often said that God's grace is best received and appreciated when we are at our lowest ebb in life because it is precisely at these moments that we truly surrender and stop trying to do things by ourselves. Recently, I experienced this first hand.

Many of you already know some of my (Mark) recent health history, and I apologize in advance for repeating myself. In February, 2007, right before my 60th birthday, I was diagnosed with early stage prostate cancer. As a logical, scientific person, I, of course, put my faith and trust in my doctors and medical science. I also had a logical, scientific "ace in the hole" -- Thea -- who tirelessly researched every possible treatment option. I even had a second "ace in the hole" -- my sister in law Theresa who is a senior administrator at the Cancer Center and Emory University -- who also tireless explored all aspects of the situation. Within a month or so, Thea and I had decided on radiation as the best treatment option for me (less chance of bad side effects and still a high cure rate), and in May I had the procedure done. As a believer in science, I figured that was it: cancer cured. Looking back at it, there was also a spiritual side to the situation. Many of my friends prayed for me; Father Bob (our parish priest) anointed me before the procedure; and I even had a spiritual "ace in the hole" -- the Maryvale Sisters prayed daily for me. But, significantly, I really did not ask God directly to heal me or truly believe that the spiritual side of things was important: I placed my trust in science.

Ninety days after the procedure, I had my first follow-up appointment: my PSA (a chemical marker indicative of prostate cancer) was half of what it had been before the radiation treatment. My Urologist and I were pleased. However, three months later, the PSA had increased to 3.1, a little worrisome. Then in February, 2008, the bombshell hit: my PSA had skyrocketed to 8.5. I remember my feeling of panic as the Urologist told me the news and recommended an immediate biopsy to see if the cancer had returned. We did the biopsy in March and found no cancer in the prostate, leaving an even more ominous possibility: the cancer could have spread beyond the prostate! My panic increased. My Hickory Urologist referred me to Duke for advanced testing and evaluation. In the midst of all this, I remember feeling, besides the panic, a feeling of betrayal. I had done everything right according to the science of the situation. Thea and I had researched the treatments; we had gotten second opinions and third opinions; we had considered the numbers and probabilities; and here I was not cured. This was not fair!

In May, prior to going to Duke for an aggressive biopsy, I got another PSA (mostly because Thea insisted!), and to the surprise of everyone (except Thea), the PSA was only 3.5. Even so, we opted to go ahead with the Duke tests. In June, I underwent the procedures and a week later got the results: no cancer had been found. Unfortunately, there were several serious side effects of the tests. First, my prostate became infected, and I had to be hospitalized for five days. Then, I got a secondary infection which required six months of follow up doctor visits both in Hickory and here in Philadelphia. Finally, in January, I noticed some troubling urological symptoms. I was referred to a Urologist here for more tests and evaluation.

All the while, I had been denying my situation. Yes, I had been going to the doctors and doing the "science", but I had also been avoiding doing a PSA test to see if the cancer was increasing. The truth is that I was terrified of the possibilities. I reasoned that, even if the 8.5 reading the year before was somehow a mistake (Thea had always thought this), the other readings (2.7 to 3.1 to 3.5) indicated problems. As I did my daily duties here at the St. Francis Inn and ministered to our clients, a part of me was always thinking about that. It was like a "shadow self" always lurking. However, I never actually asked God to cure me. Rather, I asked that "His will be done for me", and this always left me feeling anxious. Suppose His will for me was an early death!

At my initial visit to the Urologist last month, I decided to finally confront the situation and asked that a PSA be done. As the date for the follow up appointment approached my anxiety slowly ratcheted up. For the first time, I prayed to the Lord: "If it be your will, please let my PSA be no higher than 3.5." It felt like a selfish prayer, and I did not really place much faith in it. Over many years, I have rarely prayed for anything personal, always for others or for general things like relief for earthquake victims. Last Thursday, I went into the Urologist's office to get the results. My heart was pounding as Dr. Harmon came in. He began:"All good news today. Your CAT scan was negative; the urinalysis was all normal; and there is absolutely no evidence of any tumors of the bladder or kidney." I held my breath as I asked the all-important question:"What was the PSA?" He flipped pages of the reports and quickly responded: "1.3. That's a really nice drop!" Indeed. Tears fill my eyes and emotion welled up in my chest as I struggled to process this. I could not believe it: I thought that, at best, the PSA would be 3.5 and probably more like 5. Even right now as I write this, I get teary.

Now, as I look back from a week's perspective, I am struck by the irony of it all. I had trusted all along in the science, but the data and numbers led me to a torturous treatment route... unnecessary biopsies and all kinds of tests, infections, hospitalization, anxiety, thousands of dollars spent, and emotional trauma. Those with stronger faith (Thea, Sister Mary Norman, and others) had always placed more trust in God than I, and guess what, they were right. Since last Thursday, I have offered up a lot of prayers of thanksgiving. I feel as if a huge weight has been lifted.

I also feel a new trust in the power of prayer and in God's love for me. But mostly, I just feel thankful and ready to get out there and do God's work in the world. Praise the Lord.

Socks for the Homeless

2010-02-10T16:42:00.004-05:00

The snow from last weekend's storm was just starting to melt, but now we have been hit with another major storm. Last Saturday, the 28 inches of snow was dry and powdery. However, today the new foot of snow is very heavy and wet. As a result, the homeless are getting very wet feet. Since they do not have access to washers or dryers, and since the shelters only open at night, these homeless people have wet socks that rub on their feet, resulting in severe blisters.
Today I met a man named Michael in this situation. I had him remove his socks, which I threw away, and dry his feet thoroughly. We put bandaids on all his blisters, then gave him dry socks. I gave him plastic bags to tie over his socks, and then he put on his shoes. Unfortunately, this was at noon. He would be out in the snow until 5 pm when he could enter a shelter. I gave him one more pair of dry socks to use the next day.
Because of Michael's story, Mark decided that we would give each guest at dinner tonight a pair of dry socks. We have 9 volunteers from St. Francis Parish in Raleigh, NC with us this week, and they sorted through socks, putting together a bin of clean socks to give away. We see it as such a small gesture, but one that has major consequences.

More Snow

2010-02-06T15:16:00.005-05:00

It began snowing Friday evening and continued today until after the meal. We measured a foot in our yard. None of our local volunteers could make it in, and the busses were not running. However, we had a group of six students from Seton Hall College that had arrived early Friday. By making use of all the people who live here at the Inn and a few volunteers in the neighborhood who could walk to us, we were more than able to prepare and cook the food. We only had 110 guests show up. The snow had nearly stopped by 2 pm, so we should have a good crowd tomorrow.

Who is at the Door?

2010-02-05T17:26:00.007-05:00

Yesterday evening I had office duty during the meal. It can be a relaxing job, with time to read or check email. On the other hand, it can be quite hectic, with the phone ringing, the doorbell ringing, guests wanting to use the phone and guests needing their mail checked. I like the job because it allows me to speak to guests one-on-one, and at the same time gives me something a little more challenging to do than chop onions.

The first guest of the evening was K., who was using our phone to subscribe to telephone service for himself. He was having the same problems many of us have experienced--an extensive menu, then "for____ push 1, for ___push 2, etc." When he finally reached a living, breathing representative, he was having trouble understanding the directions and could not write down the information quickly enough. I could tell he was getting increasingly frustrated. To add to his stress, there were 3 other people waiting to use the phone. I could relate to his situation, having tried to do something similar, but to compound the issue, K has been diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic. Consequently, he became very agitated during the call in a way others might not be.

K. was followed by a young man who had resolved to leave town and get away from the life on the street that was wearing him down. He said he was going to Maine, but he desired to call a few people that had helped him during the past 3 years. He wanted to call his church and tell someone his decision, but was unable to find the phone number. I tried to help him with the phone directory, but the listing was not available. He left, resolving to go by in person the next day.

The next person I met was Felicia. She is very ill with liver disease, and recently was released from a rehab facility. I noticed when she came in that she was not wearing any gloves. I offered her a choice of pink, white or red gloves, and she giggled like a young girl when she selected the pink gloves. She stayed at the Inn to have a hot dinner.

I did not know the name of the next guest, but I have seen him several times at our morning service. He was calling his daughter. He obviously cared about her a great deal, and spent some time inquiring about her day and how things were going at school. At the end of the call he told her he loved her, and reminded her to pray, not just for things she wanted, but for all the needy people of the world. His daughter stays with her grandmother, and the guest spent some time talking with his mother as well. It was obvious that he wanted the best for his daughter, and that he was moving to a healthier stage in his life. He seemed to have spiritual strength that I have observed in many of the recovering addicts and alcoholics that come to the Inn.

There were other guests that evening that came for mail, aspirin, gloves and food. Some were curt and rude, but most were appreciative and left saying "God bless you." I think He did.

Use of Your Talents for the Lord

2010-02-02T09:23:00.002-05:00

Thea and I almost didn't come to St. Francis Inn. As many of you know, we went through a rather involved discernment process regarding where we would do our year of service. We ended up with two strong possibilities -- the St. Francis Inn and the Christian Appalachian Project (CAP). We visited both, and came away with the feeling that CAP would use our individual talents and provide us with opportunities to learn new skills much better than the St. Francis Inn. CAP (located in a desperately-poor area of rural Kentucky) has a very broad ministry with many needs. Thea would have probably become a teacher for parenting classes and a consultant for the area's school teachers. I would have been doing fundraising classes and board retreats for the area's smaller non-profit organizations and learning how to build houses. Despite this, Thea and I felt called by the spirituality of the St. Francis Inn. We made the conscious decision to give up doing more "professional" tasks such as teaching and fundraising for living in community here at SFI and doing "lower level" tasks such as cleaning bathrooms, bagging bread, helping with cooking, and washing dishes. I loved the spirituality of the St. Francis Inn from the very first day we were here, but I felt sorry that I had left the opportunity for using my institutional talents behind. So be it, I thought.

Now, halfway through our time here at the Inn, I have to laugh at myself. God truly does work in mysterious ways! The first talent that I thought I left behind was music. At St. Aloysius (Hickory), we have a marvelous Contemporary Choir which I am privileged to be a small part of. Playing music at those masses is one of the true joys of my life. At St. Francis Inn, I figured I would be taking a year off from playing at mass because there is no music at the daily masses, and the Sunday masses are covered by Sister Mary and Barb who have been doing the music for years. Well, after a week or two here, Thea goaded me into asking Sr. Mary if she would like a keyboard to be part of her group. After some reflection, Mary agreed to give it a try, and she and I turn out to fit like hand and glove. I play the keyboard every week and do solo communion meditation music which many of our community have told me adds much to the mass. It all has been very much a joy for me. A couple of weeks ago, during one of our rehearsals, Barb said to me: "Your music is such a blessing to all of us." Mary responded, "That's because it is a form of prayer to him." So true.

So, OK, it wasn't too much of a stretch to think that I would be able to fit in musically at the St. Francis Inn, but I never thought that any of my museum director experience would be used. The Inn is a very spiritual space which runs on "controlled chaos". The basic idea is that the Lord will provide everything in His own good time. This is pretty foreign to my basic idea of life ("Pray like everything depends on God, and plan/work like everything depends on you!") and to Thea's ("Organize/plan the ****** out of every task, and nothing can possibly go wrong!"). Here at the Inn, everything is donated -- all the goods, all the food, all the handouts, and all the money. No one ever overtly asks for anything and there is never any organized fundraising. In fact, the staff and friars are almost "anti-fundraising" -- no one ever even talks about money.

So, you can imagine my surprise when, about a month ago, Fr. Michael came to me and asked me to speak to the Franciscan Volunteer Ministry (FVM) Associate Board about fundraising. Apparently during a sharing several months before, I had mentioned that in my former career I had loved to fund raise, and Father had filed it away in his memory. Last week, as we prepared for the meeting, he filled me in on the situation. The FVM program is 20 years old and places graduating college students in one year volunteer settings in several cities. The jobs include working at St. Francis Inn, doing school and prison ministry, working with AIDS patients etc. The program has always been supported 100% by the Franciscan Province (sort of like a large diocese), but the recent economic downturn has forced the Province to cut this support by about one-third. In order to continue, the FVM program will now have to raise some money. The FVM Executive Board, comprised mostly of Friars and religious, opted to form an Associate Bd. and to give it the task of raising the needed money. As Father and I talked about my presentation to the board, I asked who the members of the Associate Bd. are, he replied: "Well, there's me, and Walter, Sr. Kathleen, Fred, Lori, the site director from Camden, and ....... YOU..... but only if you want to!" I was floored: I had no idea that he wanted me to be a board member for the program, but it took me only a second to say "Yes!". (Fr. Micheal is a living saint: he has that effect on people.)

At our first meeting, the Associate Bd. came up with a whole menu of ideas, assigned tasks, and I am already hard at work on my job -- developing a plan to train our "fundraising adverse" staff and Friars on the subtle art of asking for money. Better yet, our plans call for the Associate Bd. to meet regularly during the next year which will provide Thea and me a number of opportunities to travel to Philly and to keep in contact with the community here at the Inn. It is really exciting -- I feel energized and vital, like I am in the right place at the right time to further God's kingdom.

I also feel a little embarrassed: how could I really believe that the Lord would not utilize the gifts which He has to me? Here's to another little step on Mark's journey toward faith and trust in God...

Halfway There

2010-01-30T13:34:00.002-05:00

How time has flown! This weekend marks the halfway point of our time at St. Francis Inn. We have spent five months working, praying, laughing, being humiliated, and generally living a simple but always interesting life. Today I am going to give an update concerning some of the people we wrote about in this blog.
"Mort" (12/30, 2 phone calls) is still coming daily to the Inn. He is living at a shelter and has had some short-term jobs.
"Steve" (12/9, Bathroom Duty and God) is still on the street using drugs. He comes to Mass occasionally, and Mark always gives him a sign of peace.
"Larry" (12/3, How to Say I'm Sorry) beat up one of the guests one evening in front of our house. Mark tried to intervene, to no avail. We called 911 and got the guest to the hospital. "Larry" ran off, and is banned forever from the Inn. Word is that he was wanted by the police for another crime and is somewhere in Maryland.
Johanna and Bishop Gumbleton (11/24, ...by sharing in their struggle for justice)left last Monday for Haiti. Johanna, a nurse practitioner, and 4 other medical workers are doing what they can for the physical needs of those hurt in the horrible earthquake. Bishop Gumbleton is holding funeral services for the dead. They are living in a tent and brought down medical supplies in their suitcases. Their emails describe the devastation as horrendous.
Joe (10/14, Veteran Volunteer) gave us a scare back in November. He didn't come in for about 3 weeks. People called him and went by his house, but he had disappeared. The Inn was called about missed appointments. We called various hospitals in Philadelphia, but there was no word. Finally, a friar who was visiting a hospital in New Jersey was asked to see a patient, and it was Joe. He had been in Camden, visiting a friend, and had collapsed and was taken to the hospital there. After numerous tests, his problem was diagnosed and he returned home. The very next day he was back at the Inn,bagging bread and telling everyone what to do.
In "Courage" (9/10) Mark wrote about two alcoholics who were in our chapel one morning named Danny and Richard. We never saw Richard again, but just yesterday Danny was at the meal. He is attending AA and has been sober for over 4 months. We hope he will be able to continue with his sobriety.

Family Pictures

2010-01-25T14:37:00.004-05:00

Last Friday while I was working at the Inn, I asked Mark to take a few pictures of me doing various tasks. I usually take the pictures in the family, and I wanted to have a few pictures with me as the subject. Later, during the meal, I thought about all the pictures I have of our children, and now our grandchildren, at various stages of their lives. It occurred to me that many of the families that come to eat at the Inn may not have those wonderful mementos of events.

I went up to Diane, who comes daily with her three children, ages 4 years, 2 years and 3 months. I asked her is she had pictures of her kids. Her face fell slightly and she answered in the negative. So I asked her if she would like me to take some pictures of her children and get prints for her. She was very excited by the idea and said she would put good clothes on them for the Sunday meal.

On Sunday afternoon after the family finished eating, I took Diane and the children upstairs and snapped photos of each child separately, the three together, and Diane with all three. Although the pictures weren't as good as those done at a professional studio, I was able to capture some cute, smiling faces. As Diane left, pushing two strollers simultaneously, she seemed genuinely pleased with what had transpired. I look forward to giving the pictures to Diane when I get them back in a few days. Family pictures are something I have always taken for granted without thinking of the material items one must possess in order to have a record of a child's growth and development.

Seeing Into the Heart

2010-01-21T18:00:00.002-05:00

On Tuesday, as usual, Thea and I began the day with Mass. The reading (from Samuel) dealt with the selection of David as the future king of Israel. You'll recall that Samuel was told by the Lord to go to the house of Jesse and to annoint the future king from among Jesse's seven sons. When Samuel arrived, the sons were presented one by one. Despite their lofty stature, social graces, and status in the community, the Lord rejected all, cautioning Samuel that he (Samuel) was judging these sons by outward appearance, not by what was in their hearts. Finally, after all of the sons present at the banquet were rejected, Samuel finds out that the youngest, David, is still out in the fields tending sheep. Samuel summons David and, sure enough, God accepts this youngest son because he has a pure heart.

Father Michael began his homily at Tuesday's mass by saying that it is hard for us to get past physical appearances and to judge people's hearts. He used the example of the guests we serve everyday at the St. Francis Inn. Many are not attractive, smell bad, and can even be abusive and ungrateful. Yet, their hearts may be entirely different: every guest has a story. Father recalled a guest named John (street name Dit-Dit) who came to St. Francis Inn for years. Dit-Dit was a mess: he limped on a ruined foot; his jaw was crooked; he was unkempt; and he was a drug addict. If you judged by the outside appearance, Dit-Dit was a total waste of a human being. But over time, Fr. Michael got to know Dit-Dit and ferreted out his story.

Dit-Dit was a relatively happy child from a two parent home in Kensington. Then, at age 13, both of his parents were killed. Despondent, Dit-Dit took to drinking and eventually became homeless. On the street he began hanging with the wrong crowd. One day, he asked some guys for a hit of crack cocaine. When he did not have any money to pay for the drugs, one of the guys said: "If you go put your foot on the Metro train line when the train comes, we'll give you a hit for free." The guys turned away laughing until they heard a scream of pain -- Dit-Dit had actually let the train run over and cut off a portion of his foot.

Another time, Dit-Dit got in a street fight. His jaw was broken and the ER surgeon re-set it using pins. Not long after, Dit-Dit -- high on crack -- looked in the mirror and saw the pins sticking out of his jaw. Not liking how they looked, he pulled them out -- disfiguring his jaw forever. Predictably, DitDit's destructive behavior eventually killed him. He was in his late thirties when he died, although looking at him, you probably would have guessed his age to be nearer 50.

Father Michael's point was that, there for the Grace of God, goes each of us. "How would you have reacted as a 13 year old," Michael asked, "if your parents, whom you loved more than anything else in the world, had died suddenly?" "Would your friends, other family, and your support net be strong enough to support you? Adolescence is tough enough under any circumstances, but would you have been able to stay stable in the face of such a tragedy? Would your faith sustain you?" Tough questions... really tough questions. In looking at my own adolescence (at least what I remember of it!), I have my doubts whether I could have survived such a blow unscathed.

So, the next time you see a grungy, unkempt, smelly homeless person, remember Dit-Dit. And remember that God looks into a person heart, not at his or her exterior. We will all be judged, not on the externals, but on our heart and its ability to love. For me, this is a challenge of a lifetime -- easy to talk about and very difficult in practice.

U.S. Saints

2010-01-19T13:49:00.007-05:00

As Mark and I have mentioned before, Philadelphia is a very Catholic city. There is a Catholic church or school about every mile, it seems. We have had the opportunity to visit the shrines of 3 American saints, two here in Philadelphia and one in New York City. Unlike the shrines in Rome dedicated to good people who lived hundreds or even thousands of years ago, the American saints share a more recent time and place with those of us in this country.

Elizabeth Seton was the first native-born U.S. saint. She was married and had five children. Her husband lost most of their money and became ill, and the family went to Italy in hopes of a better climate. The family had to be quarantined, and during this period Elizabeth and her family were helped by a Catholic Italian family. She was so impressed with their faith that she converted to Catholicism. Her husband died, and later she had several children die as well. There were no Catholic schools in the country at this time, so she moved to Maryland and founded a free Catholic school for girls. Her order of sisters, the Sisters of Charity, were the first congregation dedicated to teaching in the U.S. She died in 1821, and was canonized in 1975. We visited her Manhattan home that is now a small church and shrine.

John Neumann was a Redemptorist priest born in Bohemia. He came to the U.S. as a missionary to the many German, Irish and Italian immigrants who had no one to minister to them. He became a naturalized U.S. citizen. He served in Philadelphia as a priest, and then became the bishop in 1852. He began the first Catholic school system in the country, mainly because most of the schools at that time would not allow the Catholic immigrants to attend. He also founded the Franciscan Sisters of Philadelphia. He was canonized in 1977. His tomb and shrine is across from the thrift store operated by the Inn.

The second Philadelphian to be canonzied was Katharine Drexel. She was one of 3 daughters of a wealthy family. She was taught at an early age to share the wealth she had. When her father died, she felt she had a vocation to the religious life as a cloistered nun. During an audience with the Pope, he suggested she start an order that would serve Native Americans. She founded the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament, who opened boarding schools in the Southwest on reservations, as well as day schools in rural and urban centers for African-Americans. Many of her order live at the motherhouse in Philadelphia, such as Sister Margaret, retired after years in the mission field. Her tomb and shrine are very interesting. For example, one display has the stubs of pencils that she would not throw away because she wanted all of the income they had to be used for mission work. There are also Native American and African American crafts used to decorate the chapel. She was canonized in 2000.

Despite prejudice, personal illness and obstacles such as poor roads and living conditions, these three Americans teach us that we need to always be prepared to hear the call to help others, regardless of our station in life or vocation.

The Road to Heaven

2010-01-12T09:25:00.002-05:00

Here at the St. Francis Inn, we are blessed to have three wonderful Friars who are excellent homilists. This morning, Fr. Bill spoke on the difference between words and actions. He recalled a beautiful homily he gave years ago on being calm and accepting God's will. He ended the mass feeling "holy". Not ten minutes later, someone had come up to him and made a remark that caused him, in his own words, to "go ballistic". Fr. Bill's conclusion: "The road to Heaven is littered with failures, but fortunately, God understands human nature and forgives us."

This is so true in my life. Last Thursday, I was the Meal Coordinator. This means that I was in charge of the whole evening. The main tasks are: a) to coordinate with the cook to provide the "sides" for the meal (in this case I was responsible for 300 desserts, 325 dinner rolls, milk for our families); b) to make sure the dining room tables are set up with cups, utensils, and napkins; c) to ensure that the bread that we have had donated that day is bagged up and ready to be put out in the yard for our guests to take home with them; d) to make sure that all recycling materials (cardboard, aluminum, metal cans, and plastic) is bundled properly and put in our side yard; and most important, e) to prepare the evening work roster, placing our core team members and any other volunteers who are scheduled to be at the meal in appropriate jobs. These jobs include everything from monitoring the bathrooms, washing dishes, and handing out tickets to distributing food, manning the office, and waiting tables. It's a big job with many details, but as a former CEO, I like being in charge and look forward to being the "big kahuna".

I came "on duty" at 1:00, and the first thing I noticed was that the afternoon shift had only two people -- Fr. Michael and me. This is barely enough to get all the work done, and so as a good "type A" person I went into overdrive. I assigned Michael to prepare the desserts (his favorite job because he gets to sample all of the icings in the cakes!) while I went to work on putting aside the 325 rolls for the evening meal. Unfortunately, every time I got going, the phone or the doorbell rang. I forgot to mention that one of the coordinator's main jobs prior to the meal itself is dealing with the needs of anyone who calls or comes to the door. These needs range from checking to see if a person has mail and handing out food to providing info to refer someone to another agency or handing out a pair of gloves to someone who has none.

For the first hour or so, I just could not get anything accomplished: the phones and door were too busy. Fortunately, Thea, who had the afternoon off, came to my rescue. After eating her lunch, she came back at 2:00 and handled the phone and door. FINALLY, I said to myself, I can get prepared. Within an hour, the rolls for the evening meal were counted out into the bins; the rest of the bread was bagged and boxed for distribution in the yard; the milk and water were put out for distribution; and all the recycled materials were collected and put in their proper places. By 3:30, the duty roster was prepared, and by 4:00 the volunteers and team began to arrive. Sure enough, despite my preparations, there were problems. The college group that was supposed to bring five volunteers brought only four; and the high school group came with two instead of three, but "Mark the Magnificent" had already planned for this and quickly made adjustments. By 4:20 all the waitresses and waiters, bussers, and table set up people were trained (also my responsibility) and ready to go. By 4:25 we prayed, and the meal began right on schedule at 4:30. Things are going GREAT, I thought.

I forgot to mention that, during the meal itself, one of the Coordinator's big jobs is to handle requests from our guests after they finish eating. They usually ask for various toiletries (shampoo, razor, deodorant, feminine products, pampers, baby wipes, etc.), a bag of takeout food for a spouse or family member too sick to come to the meal, an article of clothing (hat, gloves, scarf, jacket), or some other need. So, while we are in the midst of serving 300+ people and the Coordinator is checking to make sure that everything from food preparation to dishwashing is on track, the Coordinator is also dealing with the specific needs of various people lined up. It is BUSY. As the meal progressed, I was loving it, but I was also stretched near my limit.

Then, it happened. Judy (who is one of the core teams members and Thea and my supervisor here at St. Francis Inn) came into the kitchen accompanied by an older gentleman. Together they carried about six large platters of food -- some shrimp casserole, sliced pork, ravioli, etc. Judy informed me that this man was donating leftover food from a party to us. Great news, except for the fact that the man wanted his containers back, which meant that I had to stop what I was doing and try to find other food containers. In the midst of my frenetic situation, this request seemed excessive. I told Judy that I very busy with other duties, whereupon she told me that not only did I have to comply, but I needed to do it NOW. As I frantically tried to find something to put the food into, she told me that we also needed to WASH and DRY the man dishes so that he could have his stuff back clean. Well, I lost it: as I transferred the food, I announced in an angry voice that this whole request was unreasonable and that I was too busy, etc. etc. Judy responded with a curt: "This is a donor and you need to do this!" Furious, I handed the now empty platters to our dishwasher and with a high pitched, angry voice told him to wash them -- RIGHT NOW.

Within a minute, the "dust had settled". The food was transferred; the dishes were washed; and the man was ready to go. I realized that I had insulted him, and I apologized. I also went into the office and apologized to Judy. I plunged back into the Coordinator's role, but by now the meal was winding down and there was less to do. I had time to review my actions: why had I not simply delegated this task to someone else instead of trying to do it myself? Why did I not simply take a deep breath and realize that everyone, including the man, could wait a minute while I got organized? In retrospect, I could think of any number of ways I could have handled the situation differently, and much better. I felt crushed: what had begun as such a successful meal had ended with me feeling depressed and humiliated.

Later that evening, Thea and I discussed the incident. She reminded me that before we came here we had said that one of our main goals during this year of service at St. Francis Inn is to become more humble. She pointed out that it is in just these kinds of situations that we DO learn our limitations and confront our weaknesses. She observed that, during the meal I had, perhaps, dealt directly with 75 people (team members, volunteers, and guests). With tenderness, she said to me: "You made 73 of them happy. That's not a bad performance!"

True, but there was certainly room for improvement in dealing with those other two. And how many other times, I thought to myself, have I stumbled and screwed up when I was trying to do something good? I can think of a number of times. Fortunately, God understands and forgives. As Fr. Bill said this morning, "The road to heaven is littered with mistakes."

That is, truly, a very comforting thought.

A Day in the Life

2010-01-08T06:57:00.000-05:00

A common question from the folks back home to us is "What exactly do you do at the Inn?" So I am going to summarize my (Thea) day on Thursday, Jan. 7.
7:30--went over to the Inn to get trash bags to take to the thrift store. While I was there I brought up the wash from the basement
8:30-went to Mass at the Inn. Fr. Michael preached on 1John4--if we say we love God but don't love our brothers and sisters, we are liars. I promised myself to work on that today, especially at the thrift store
9:00-helped Fred load the van with donations to the thrift store
9:15-got to the store. We were fortunate to find a parking place in front of the store. Often we have to haul the bags a block or more. We unloaded the van and brought the bags to the back of the store where Carmen could sort them. I straightened up the store, put a few new things on the racks, checked the supply of underwear and prepared to open for business.
10:00- the doors opened and the crowds rushed in. Well, not exactly crowds, but it is a small store with narrow aisles, so it fills up quickly. My first two customers are always Ms. Rose and her daughter. Today they bought 6 vintage pillbox hats for 50 cents a piece. We also had a box of Gymboree children's clothes, brand new. I decided to sell them for $2 each.
10:30--some of the Guests who had vouchers had made their way from the Inn to the store. A guest can get a voucher on Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday. It allows for a shirt, pants, and underwear and can be gotten once a week. Additional items like shoes, a coat or sheets can be added to the voucher. One Guest, a very petitie woman, complained loudly that we didn't have anything in her size. I had placed an extra small pair of pants on the rack that morning, and got them for her. She said they were too long. I suggested rolling them up or hemming them, but she was not happy with the idea. Many of the men had trouble getting pants in their sizes. We seem to get lots of large pants, but very few in waists 30-34, and most of our guests are thin. The men were very happy with the coats I found for them, as well as the new undershirts and socks I had for them.
11:30-a man came in with a donation. He had a truck with 10 bags of stuff and needed help carrying them in. The only other volunteer available was Bernice, who is in her 70's and had bad legs. So I left her in charge and went to help. He was parked more than a block away, and his bags were huge and heavy, filled with sheets, towels and other bedding. I had to drag the bags behind me as I couldn't lift them. After about 5 trips, the guy took pity on me and drove his truck to the front of the store and double parked while I got the last two boxes.
12:10--we got the last customer rung up, and closed the store for a brief lunch break.
12:30-0pened up again. Most of the afternoon customers were bargain shoppers rather than people with vouchers. One man came in and began putting pants and sweaters in a large box. I asked him what he was doing and he told me he was going to buy them all. After he filled the box, he brought it to the front desk and I began to add up the cost. It was $36 (I charge $1 for pants and shirts, and $2 for sweaters and sweatshirts). He searched his pockets for money, and then began to sway slightly toward the ground. I realized he was high on something and told him he needed to leave. He said, "I need to leave?" I thought he might challenge me or refuse, but he headed out the door. I then put all the clothes back on the racks and thanked God the man had been agreeable.
2--Fred came to pick me up. We grabbed the money and tidied up best as we could, and headed back to the Inn.
2:30--since the weather was a balmy 37 degrees, I decided to walk the mile to the grocery store and get a few things
3:30--returned from store and had a snack before going to the Inn the evening meal
4--Barb the coordinator assigned me to the yard, so I returned home to put on a few more layers of clothing. The sun sets around 4:30, and I knew it would cool quickly.
4:30--I did line up for the meal. This job consists of having the guests get in 3 lines. One is for seniors, one for families with children and the third is for everyone else. Each person gets a ticket as they come through the gate, and there is one color for seniors and families, and a different color for the rest. We change the colors every day. We operate on a first come, first served basis, so the first number goes into the meal first. We seat the seniors and families first, then go to the younger, single people. We have seating for 48, and a maitre d' tells me how many seats she has available, and I let the people in. The line was pretty agreeable with only a few people wanting to go in before their numbers were called. I even had an interesting conversation with a guest who had just come out of a mental institution after being involuntarily committed by the maintenance person at her senior housing.
6-the meal is officially over. People who arrive late can get some of the chicken stew in a "to go" bowl
6:05--I start cleaning up the yard and cleaning the guest bathrooms. I have to pick up trash, stack up boxes we used to distribute bread, wash the sinks and toilets, mop the floor, empty waste baskets, take trash to the dump.
6:35-once everything is clean and the food put away, we all go to the chapel for evening prayer
7 pm--home for dinner and watch a DVD

Reflections on our 36th Anniversary

2010-01-06T11:53:00.000-05:00

One of the real blessings in serving here at St. Francis Inn is that there are regularly groups of college students who come to volunteer. I truly like meeting the young people and basking in the glow of their idealism and enthusiasm. Last week, we had a group from a small Catholic school near Buffalo, and I did donation pickups with a sophomore named Amy.

As we were driving around Philly, we got to talking about relationships. Amy is in her first serious relationship with a young man and after only a month or so, she and her boyfriend are talking "love and marriage". I cautioned her to go slowly, pointing out that marriage is supposed to be forever. I told her that my wife and I would be celebrating our 36th anniversary on January 5th. Amy told me how wonderful that was and asked "How did you get together? What was it about Thea that first attracted you, and why do you think your marriage has lasted when so many others have not?"

As we drove along, I tried to put myself back into the mindset of a young man. I was 23 when I met Thea. It really seemed like a very long time ago: I have been married to Thea much longer than I was single. It was hard for me to even remember what it was like NOT being married to Thea. I was silent, but Amy was persistent: after a few seconds with no response from me she asked again: "How did you meet; what was it that attracted you?"

I replied that what really attracted me to Thea was that she was interested in some of the same things that I was. We met in a tutoring program that FSU ran for disadvantaged children in Quincy, Florida. I was the driver of the car that took the group to the tutoring sessions, and Thea was one of the passengers. I noticed that this nice looking, young coed kept catching my eye in the rearview mirror and smiling at me. I asked her out, and she seemed interested in everything about me. She turned out to be sophomore (the very same age as Amy!), majoring in biology. We dated for a few months, and I left for the University of Hawaii to further my studies. Apart from each other, Thea's love for me grew stronger, while I began to get cold feet. We broke up; and then got back together, but I still was not certain that Thea would be my wife.

Shortly thereafter, my father and I had the opportunity to drive across the U.S. together as he and my mom moved from California to their retirement home in Tennessee. During the drive, Dad and I spent a lot of time talking about Thea. I told him that I just wasn't sure. Dad advised me to make a list of Thea's attributes, both plus and minus, and to see which list was longer and more important. Amy interrupted me at this point to ask, "So, what did you put on the list?" I replied that on the negative side, I listed things like: "Thea is bossy; and she is a blunt/to the point person; and "She is not a blond!"

On the positive side of the ledger, I wrote: "She is very smart; she loves me and will be true to me; she is organized; she is a Christian; we share common interests; and she is dependable. There probably were some other items as well, but those are the ones that I remember. Amy went on to ask several other questions: "What did you talk about when you were beginning to date?" I told her that Thea and I talked about serious subjects almost immediately. On our second date I shared some pretty deep, negative feelings that I harbored at the time, and Thea accepted them without question. That really impressed me.

Amy asked me what I thought had held us together after we got married. In particular she asked if Thea had changed her "bad habits" such as being bossy and blunt? I laughed out loud and quickly said that Thea was almost exactly the same person now as she had been back then. I also was the same moody, introspective person as I had been at the beginning of our relationship. I told Amy in no uncertain terms that Thea and I had not changed each other much. We both had compromised some over the years and the rough edges were smoother, but we were still the same people as before.

So, Amy persisted, what held you together?" I thought about it, and the answer was surprisingly simple. I told her that, once we married, Thea and I both were committed for life...for richer and poorer....better or worse. Through the years we both made each other mad, both were irritating, and both were "stinkers" at times, but divorce was never an option. I also told Amy that we had Christ at the center of our marriage. When Thea and I could not talk to each other, we could both talk to God and HE would be the conduit for the information. I told Amy that we were honest with each other, even when it hurt: we could, did, and do talk about all topics. Finally, I told Amy that Thea and I had a strong physical relationship which carried us through some of the rough patches.

By this time, Amy and I were back at the St. Francis Inn with our delivery. We unloaded the van, and she thanked me for the "advice". I wondered how much of it she will act on. You never know, but as I went on to lunch, it occurred to me that probably the most important thing that I passed on to Amy was simply the fact that I have been happily married to Thea for 36 years. That one fact demonstrates tangibly that lifelong commitment, faithfulness and happiness in marriage are all possible and are goals well worth working toward.

I wish Amy and her boyfriend luck and the Grace of Christ in their budding relationship. And I thank my lucky stars that I am not 19 again: living through being single once was enough!

Stuck Key and Grace, Part 2

2009-12-31T11:46:00.000-05:00

Right before Christmas, I posted a blog about trying to play my defective keyboard in our St. Francis Inn dining room. Several of the keys, especially the "E" about middle "C" were sticking, upsetting my perfectionist attempts to play Christmas Carols. Despite what I viewed as this significant flaw, the music had a real effect on our guests. Some sang along with the carols they knew; others smiled and tapped their feet or hands; and still others thanked me as they left the dining room that day. Even now, roughly two weeks later, some of the guests still talk to me about how much they enjoyed the music.

A number of you have communicated with Thea or me about how much this particular blog meant to you or to a friend. Several of you forwarded the blog to others. I must tell you, that all of this made me feel very blessed and contributed to a wonderful Christmas for our family. But, as Paul Harvey used to say, "Here is the rest of the story!"

The day after I posted the blog, my brother-in-law Rick sent me an e-mail saying that these stuck keys were a manufacturer's defect, and that he owned a Yamaha keyboard that had had the very same problem. He'd contacted the manufacturer and had received a new keyboard assembly, free of charge. The manufacturer's repair technician had even come to his home to make the repair! Rick encouraged me to contact Yamaha and ask for a free repair, but since my keyboard is six years old, I figured that my keyboard was long beyond any warranty. I forgot all about Rick's suggestion.

Two days later, Rick sent me another e-mail with the phone number and e-mail of the Yamaha rep in Los Angeles, and again encouraged me to request the repair. Since all I had to do was send an e-mail, I decided to go for it....well it was more like "I know this is a waste of time, and I really do not even deserve this repair, but since Rick went to the trouble of sending me this info, I might as well try." Talk about a lack of faith! And self worth! Not to mention laziness!

Despite an overwhelming sense that there was not way that this was going to work, I composed a brief e-mail saying that I had a six year old Yamaha keyboard that had periodically had a problem with stuck keys and was there any possibility of a repair, given that it was long beyond the warranty period. To my astonishment, the LA rep immediately replied, asking for the serial number of my keyboard, which I dutifully supplied. Within a day, the rep had determined that, yes, indeed, I was entitled to a complete repair of the keyboard assembly and had send me the name of a technician right here in Philly who could do the job.

Yesterday, Thea and I took the keyboard in and within 30 minutes, it was fixed and good as new. Actually, it is BETTER than new -- the keyboard has never played so smoothly. I am really excited and happy: the keyboard is a pleasure to play now, not a frustration. And I owe it all to Rick who was persistent in getting me to request the repair when I would simply have accepted the situation as beyond my control.

As January 1st approaches, I know that one of my New Year's resolutions will be to be a little more attentive to the suggestions of people who are trying to help me and to be open to possibilities for good coming out of any situation.

Happy New Year, everyone!

2 Phone Calls

2009-12-30T10:33:00.000-05:00

"Sister, I need to make a telephone call. Can you help me?" The elderly man held out a folded piece of paper. I opened it, reading a letter from a daughter to her father. She had not had contact with him for 10 years. Somehow she had gotten his address and gave him her phone number. He wanted to talk to her.
I dialed her number, and miraculously, she picked up on the first ring. I handed him the phone, and a big smile filled his face as he said, "This is your father." They spoke for a few minutes in Spanish, and he ended with a promise to call her again soon. As he left, I remarked that is had seemed like a happy call. He said yes, he had not wanted to tell his daughter the turns his life had taken and the hard times he had fallen on. I added that a Dad was important to a daughter and I hoped that he would call her again soon.
A bit later the second line of the Inn rang. This is the number that the guests use for outgoing calls, and when it rings, it is usually a wrong number. This time, a woman's voice asked for "Mort." I didn't know Mort, but after some questioning I discovered Mort was the woman's brother,and he must have called her from the Inn. He was recently out of prison, and was a guest at the Inn, as well as one of Br. Xavier's helpers. I tracked down Br. Xavier, he went into the yard and found Mort, who came into the office for the call. He told his sister he was in big trouble. He had been evicted by his landlady, was out on the street, and apparently had not followed some of his parole rules. He was going to turn himself in soon, he said, but had no place to stay until then. His sister did not invite him to stay with her. I knew we had given him a coat and gloves, but the night temperature was predicted to be close to 4 degrees with the windchill. He bid his sister goodbye, and sadly left the office. I asked him if he would go to a shelter tonight, but he said he could not. He didn't elaborate as to why not, and I didn't press him. I felt helpless and frustrated that there was nothing I could do but wish him a good night and offer a prayer for him.

Thea and Mark's Snowy Day

2009-12-21T17:28:00.000-05:00

On Thursday, December 17 I looked at the weather map for Philadelphia and points south. We were planning to leave after the meal on Saturday to drive to Raleigh, spend the weekend with daughter Angela and her family, then go on to Athens and spend the rest of the week with daughter Andrea and her family. I noticed that snow was to begin around midnight Friday in the Philly area, and that Maryland and Virginia were to get quite a bit of snow as well. We debated as to whether we should ask if we could leave on Friday rather than Saturday. We didn't need to as Judy, our coordinator, called us at 7:30 Friday morning and suggested we leave before the snow started. So we rushed around, got packed, served the meal, then at 2 pm left town. All was well until we got south of DC. For some inexplicable reason, the traffic slowed to 20 mph. After about an hour of slow going on I-95, we ran into snow. This snow was coming down hard and fast. We could see 3 inches already on parking lots along the highway. We figured at this rate we would reach Raleigh at 5 am, if we didn't plow into a ditch. We saw an exit at about 7:30 pm that had 6 motels, and got over to the right lane to exit. Unfortunately, the traffic didn't appear to be moving up the ramp. I could see a Quality Inn above our location, separated by a fence from the interstate. Mark suggested I get out, climb the fence and book us a room. So I donned by coat, grabbed my purse, and hiked up through the snow to the top of the berm. After several tries I was able to mount the fence, push down the barbed wire, and jump over. I then made it up to the motel and stood in line. Meanwhile, Mark was still trying to go up the ramp. He finally drove around some stopped trucks, got halfway up, and the traffic stopped again. All the drivers got out to see what was happening. It appeared that two cars had collided, but finally decided to ignore any damage and move on. At this time Mark started up the car again, but had no traction. He managed to finesse the car a little at a time up the ramp, and arrived at 8:30 at the motel. At this point we were 30 miles north of Richmond, VA
The next morning we awoke to about a foot of snow. We figured we would be spending another night at the motel. We went out to knock the snow off our car, and to our amazement, the interstate was plowed and traffic moving normally. A man came by and told us there was a two hour break in the snow, and if we wanted to go, now was the time. We grabbed our bags, left without getting food, and drove south. Within a mile we saw that things were still pretty bad on the interstate. We saw lots of cars stranded, some even in the main lanes. There were cars in the median, some turned upside down, and others pointing in the wrong direction,having done a 360. Ramps were closed due to disabled vehicles on the ramp. We felt so blessed that we had gotten off when we did, had gotten a room, and had been safe in our travels. We made it to Raleigh safely, and look forward to spending Christmas with our children and grandchildren. We don't even feel guilty about leaving early from the Inn, because they had 2 feet of snow on Saturday, and probably had less than 100 guests at the meal.

Happy Anniversary to the St. Francis Inn

2009-12-16T12:30:00.000-05:00

Thirty years ago today, the St. Francis Inn served its first meal. After the friars made the food, they served it to five men and then sat down and ate with them. Last night we served dinner to 296. The original building was a bar converted to soup kitchen. The first structure is the current dining room and office, but in 2000 the size was doubled and a bigger kitchen area, bathrooms and storage rooms were added. Regardless of the size of the building, the mission remains the same. "We do not wish to serve the poor, but to be poor and to serve our brothers and sisters."

Christmas Carols, Stuck Keys, and Grace

2009-12-13T16:36:00.000-05:00

It began as Thea's idea: many of my best ideas are hers. Yesterday she suggested that I might play Christmas carols for one of our mid-day meals this week. I passed on the idea to Sister Mary who was today's meal coordinator, and Voila, I was set up in the dining room. There was one problem, however. One of the keys on my keyboard --specifically the "E" above middle "C" -- sticks. The problem began a week or so ago and has gotten steadily worse. Now, everytime I play that note, the key stays down.

Despite this problem, I was enthusiastic about playing for our guests. Sunday is our busiest day, and today was rainy, cold, and dreary. I figured that some live seasonal music would lift everyone's mood. With Thea's help, I assembled a list of 30 or so songs -- everything from "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" to "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" -- and began to play. Almost immediately, I ran into serious problems: not only did the "E" above middle "C" stick every time I played the note, but its cousin "E" below middle "C" also was sluggish. It is amazing how often you need these notes, especially for songs in the keys of "C" and "G", two of my favorite keys. Furiously, I transposed every carol that I could into other keys ("F", "D", even "Bflat"), which required me to use the stuck keys as little as possible. When I had to play the "E", I would continue playing but reach up with a spare finger and flick the key up -- a neat trick when you're used to pushing down to play. The results were predictable: my "performance" was bad, and it was really upsetting! Imagine a tune such as "Deck, the (no sound, stuck key) with bows of (blank)-ley, fa- (blank) la, (blank),la,la la, la." Horrible! I was so frustrated, but there was nothing to do but press on for the 90 minute lunch.

Then a funny thing happened. I started focusing on the guests instead of my malfunctioning instrument, and I began noticing positive things. A little old lady, normally quite nasty (we call her the French lady) humming along contentedly...an older African American man tapping his foot...another lady nodding her head to the music. As people left, many of them stopped to say how much they enjoyed the music. One guy, a big burly man, said that he used to sing in a gospel choir and that this really made him feel great. Another guy said "We are so blessed to have you here." But the apex was when an older, short lady, clearly very down on her luck, came up to the keyboard and began singing "Silent Night". Her voice was terrible -- ragged, vocal chords scarred from tobacco and drug use -- but she knew all the verses. People at the neighboring tables joined in, and I realized that stuck key or not, this music was lifting people. I saw, as each of us occasionally does, that God was using me, at that very moment, to brighten the lives of others. His Grace was flowing through my fingers to people who needed it. My eyes welled up, my chest constricted, and I gave thanks that I could, in some small way, be part of God's plan for the St. Frances Inn on this Sunday.

As I reflect on this now (5 PM on Sunday), I wonder how often each of us misses God's Grace in our lives because we are so worried about trying to do tasks to perfection rather than just living for the moment and doing them as we are able. For me this is certainly true. Today I was closer to God when I was not so worried about how I was playing my music and more open to how He was working through the music to further His kingdom.

Christmastime in Philadelphia

2009-12-12T17:06:00.000-05:00

Steve, one of the guests and our Philadelphia expert, told us that "Philadelphia has her best face at the holidays." He is so right! We have taken advantage of some of the tradtional holiday treats, such as the light and music show at Macy's, formerly Wanamakers Department store. We also toured the Dickens Village in Macy's, which was originally in another now defunct store. These events go back at least to postwar days. A more recent arrival is the holiday show in the lobby of the Comcast building, the tallest building in Philadelphia. This year was a real treat, complete with fiberoptic panels and 3-D effects. But the very best show of all was at Longwood Gardens, a fabulous botanical garden that belonged to Pierre Dupont. The 20 room conservatory was decorated with giant Christmas trees and carpets of poinsettias. There were huge wreaths made of orchids, bromeliads and palm fronds. Outside, there were thousands of lights on tall trees, as well as a dancing fountain that rose and fell to holiday music. We even saw a choral concert by a 100 year old choral group that specializes in Gilbert and Sullivan. Since there are no yards in our neighborhood, people make the most of their windows and doors, with the occasional sidewalk tree festooned with lights. Since it has turned really cold (felt like 12 degrees last night), it is easy to get into the Christmas spirit.

Bathroom Duty and God

2009-12-09T08:00:00.005-05:00

Every Monday morning, our St. Frances Inn staff "team" gets together for a sharing. We begin with psalms, have a spiritual reading, review one of the seven guidelines of the Franciscan ministry, and then share how we feel about what we've heard. Last Monday, the guideline was "We seek not simply to serve the physical needs of those we minister to but to build relationship with those whom we meet." As I (Mark) reflected on the guideline, I realized that for most of my time here I have been focusing on the tasks at hand and not so much on the people we serve. As a former administrator, I certainly was coming down on the side of "doing" rather that "being present". As I left the sharing session, I resolved to be open to allowing the Spirit to work through me to form relationships with our guests.

Later that week, I had bathroom duty. The job is basically to line people up and send them in an orderly way into our two public restrooms. I was half way into my 90 minute shift when I remembered the guideline about forming relationships, and so I decided to give it a try. The first two attempts were perfunctory: "How are you doing today? "Fine, how are you." "Nice Day, isn't it? "Yeah, real nice!", etc. Then a short guy with a pale blue hat moved to the front of the line.

I tried again: "How are you today?" He looked me right in the eye and with a tired, defeated face simply shook his head side to side. I said, "Tough day?" He replied, "Tough week!" I asked "Why?" He replied, "Too many drugs, got really drunk, and now I am $240 behind on my rent." Without even thinking about what I was saying, I asked, "So, what drugs are you doing?" He replied: "Crack". I felt my stomach contract: crack cocaine is a common street drug here, but this was the very first person that I personally had met who was a crack user. I said to him, "That is a really bad drug. You need to try to get off of it." He replied, "That is easy to say, hard to do." I said, "Yes, but you need to try." He looked at me and said "Why? I lost my child; I lost my wife; now what the f*** do I have to look forward to for Christmas?" I felt a flood of sympathy -- I wondered how I would react if one of my daughters and wife had died. It was easy to see how someone might turn to alcohol or drugs to ease the pain.

By this time, one of the bathrooms was open and the man went in. I wondered if there was anything at all that I could do to help. When he emerged a minute later, I asked him his name. "Steve" he replied. I said, "My name is Mark, and I know that it is not much, but I will pray for you. And if you ever want to talk, I would be happy to talk with you about all of this." He smiled briefly and walked away.

I don't know what will happen with Steve and me. Probably nothing, but I have noticed him coming to morning mass a couple of times since then and each time during the "Sign of Peace", our eyes meet and we exchange smiles and an embrace. If nothing else, at least he knows that another person is concerned about him and his suffering.

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Broken Glass

2009-12-07T15:14:00.001-05:00

This morning one of the volunteers went out to load the van in the yard, and discovered that someone had taken bricks and broken the back and side windows. Since there was nothing in the van at all, this was probably done out of spite rather than to steal. After the police were called and the insurance company informed, I was assigned to sweep up all the glass on the ground and in the vehicle. I had barely started when one of the guests called out that he wanted to help. He said he came here all the time and it made him really mad that someone had done somethng out of meanness. The guest said if we closed for a day, he wouldn't blame us. I responded that we certainly weren't going to close and we would never punish all of the people who came to eat just because of the actions of one or two individuals.
The staff could quickly make a list of likely suspects: guests we had banned for a period of time because of theft, violence or disobeying certain rules like drinking in front of the Inn. We may or may not ever know who did this act of vandalism. Apparently it has been many years since such an event has occurred. I think the long-time staffers were saddened that after so many years of giving to this community, someone would do something like this, especially as we enter the holiday season. For Mark and I, this event was a reminder that we are in the real world, not part of a movie where the bully reforms and ends up doing good at Christmas.

How to Say "I'm Sorry"

2009-12-03T11:22:00.000-05:00

"Larry" was one of the first guests Mark and I met. He is a middle-aged African American man, very large, and at first glance, fearsome. He hangs out at our corner, and gave us the scoop on where to eat in the neighborhood. He has been on the street for some time. Several years ago, while passed out on the street, he was awakened by a man pointing a gun at his chest. He managed to grab the man's hand and the gun was turned, went off, and killed the other guy. "Larry" was arrested, but the jury found him not guilty on the grounds of self-defense.
The people here at the Inn do not want the guests sleeping on the street, so have banned Larry from entering the Inn grounds until he finds other accommodations. This may seem cruel and not very Christlike, but it is very dangerous to sleep outside in our neighborhood,both because of the cold weather and the drug users that roam the area. So there is a "tough love" component to all of this.
Nevertheless, Larry hangs around and offers to help carry things for us. This morning he helped me carry all the cardboard and cans for recycling to the curb. When he entered the trash area, he told me that he knew he had been short with people the past week, but it was due to having a migraine headache. He wanted to apologize to me if he had been unkind. He said he was telling everyone he may have been short with the past week that he was sorry. He had seen a doctor and gotten some medicine, and now the headache was gone. He said it felt so good to have the pain leave him.
Six months ago if a man that looked like "Larry" had come up to me on the street, I would have looked away and probably hastened my pace. Not only was I having a conversation at 7 am with him, but HE was apologizing to ME for any perceived insult! What a lesson he was preaching about asking for forgiveness. Once again, those whom I was supposed to be helping were helping me.

Littering and "The Law"

2009-12-02T16:31:00.000-05:00

One of the things that Thea and I have noticed about Philadelphia is the litter, especially on the streets in our neighborhood. It is terrible: people just throw everything from paper and cans to plastic bags and garbage on the streets. I hate it and have always wanted to confront the people who do it. Well, last week, I got my chance!

Thea and I were going into our local CVS store when right in front of me a women in a parked car threw a piece of trash onto the ground. I scooped it up and in my best "voice of righteous anger" said: "M'am, you are LITTERING!". She was startled and said: "I was going to get out and put it in the trash!". I replied: "The trash can is right over here, for heaven sakes!" She asked: "Do you work for the store?" and I replied an irritated "NO!" and walked into the store. When we were inside, Thea told me that she could not believe that I had done that and that I had been pretty harsh. I replied that the woman got what she deserved and felt justified in what I had done. Littering is against the law.

We purchased our item in the store and exited. As we passed the women in the parked car (still there), she intentionally tossed another piece of trash in front me and said "Clean it up!" Thea, without comment, picked up the trash, and we drove off.
I asked Thea again if she thought that what I had done was wrong, and she replied again that she thought that I had not handled the situation especially well. I thought about it some more and asked her asked "What would St. Frances have done?" She said: "He probably would have cheerfully picked up the trash, made a joke about it, and left the woman laughing and feeling a little guilty."

Over the next few minutes, after I had calmed down, I began reviewing my behavior. Certainly it was true that littering is against the law. Technically, I was all in the right here -- a law-abiding citizen, helping to keep the environment policed. I had confronted a person who was breaking the law, but in doing so, I had not seen her as a "child of God", as "the face of Jesus", or even as a person. I had seen her as a jerk, had treated her as such, and (predictably) had gotten a defiant, "up yours" reaction. Worse still, I had not changed her behavior for the better. In fact, she probably is throwing trash on the streets of Philadelphia right now while she pictures my face and curses. No, my behavior had not, in any way, contributed to a positive outcome.

As I reflected more, I realized that my actions were very much like those of the Pharisees in Jesus' time. These were upstanding, law-abiding citizens who held others accountable -- and completely missed Jesus' message that we should love our neighbors. Like the Pharisees, I had not shown this woman love, or even respect, and probably left her worse than I found her. I was, truly, part of the problem, not part of the solution.

By now I felt chastened. I resolved to use this as a lesson in humility and respect for others. We are called to love others not to criticize them. If I get another chance at a "littering incident", I will try a lighter approach, something like: "Hey, I think this blew out of your car. Do you need it?.... OK, I will throw it in the trash for you. Have a great day!"

This living a life of loving humility is tougher than it looks.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2009-11-26T10:57:00.000-05:00

We are ready to feed 400 guests today at the Inn a dinner of turkey, stuffing, sweet potato casserole, cranberry sauce, cornbread and pie. Later today, the permanent team will be having their own meal. Thea has to prepare the turkey and Mark is making mashed potatoes.
We have so much to be grateful for this day. We are thankful for each other and all of our family members. We are so appreciative of our friends, especially those of you who have sent cards or commented on our blogs. Your prayers and words of encouragement have meant so much to us. We are thankful for the team here and all they have done to welcome us, to be patient with us as we make mistakes, and show us what it means to live simply with the poor.
This morning at Mass, after the homily, a guest named Rhonda told everyone how grateful she was to God who had helped her through her addiction, healed her when she was expected to die from a gunshot wound to the head, and brought her to an existence where she no longer lived on the street. Her testimony was powerful and pointed to the goodness of God and her total reliance on Him. Both of us were humbled by Rhonda's absolute trust in God's mercy and goodness. Everything we have and are comes from God; for Him we are most thankful.

Pink Footed Goose

2009-11-25T10:37:00.000-05:00

Lest you think that our lives here are all work and no fun, I (Mark)am here to correct that misconception. Thea and I have had lots of outings to local museums, parks, gardens, and some (inexpensive!) restaurants. However, without a doubt, our most fun outings have been to "chase" new birds. We are on a number of list serves which report rare bird sightings in all of the northeastern states from Delaware north to Maine and even southern Canada. Thea or I check them every day to see if there is a bird of interest reported, and if it is nearby, we drive out to try to find it. So far, we have added 8 new species to our life list and are now up to 658 North American birds (target: 700 before we die!!).

Our latest "chase" was last Saturday. We had planned to go to a local park on our day off, but on the morning list serve for New York, Thea found a report of a single Pink Footed Goose (that's the species' actual name -- I am not making this up!)from the Sunken Garden State Park on Long Island. This is about a three hour drive from Philly, and before you think that we are absolutely crazy, let me say that the same bird had been report two other times in recent weeks at the very same location, always mixed in with flocks of Canada Geese. So, we knew that this Goose was probably staying around for the winter, or at least for a while.

It was already pretty late for us (8:30 AM), and so we quickly changed plans, packed a lunch, filled the car with gas and headed to New York. The route took us through Northern New Jersey up the Turnpike, past Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx and finally onto the Long Island Parkway. We arrived at the state park at 11:30 and immediately saw a group of about 100 Canada Geese and began scanning them for one with pink legs and feet. No luck -- these were all regular Canada Geese. Since the Pink Footed Goose had also been seen on the athletic fields at a nearby high school, we drove there. Even worse luck: there were no birds at all on the fields. Disappointed, we drove back to the Sunken Gardens Park and began a systematic search of the area. We ran into several other groups of birders, also looking for the Goose. Together we scanned group after group of Canda Geese with no results.

Why, you ask, are we and all these other people looking for this one bird? Well, the Pink Footed Goose nests in eastern GREENLAND and is only very rarely seen in the US. The American Birding Association ranks birds from one to six in order of their difficulty to see. The "sixes" are mostly extinct; the fives have been reported in North America, perhaps, a single time. The Pink Footed Goose is ranked as a "four". Thus, this sighting is a moderately big deal in the birding world: over the course of the morning and early afternoon, Thea and I ran into people from New Jersey, New York, Texas, and Pennsylvania who were also searching for this one goose.

By 1:30 PM, we (collectively) still had not found anything and Thea and I decided to try the high school again. This time, we really combed the place, pulling into restricted parking lots and even the bus maintenance facilities so we could get good looks at ALL of the athletic fields. Still no birds. By 2:00, our hope was fading, but we decided to try one more time at Sunken Gardens before heading home. As we approached the park office, we noticed that there was a large group of Canada Geese in the field to the left. More interesting was the fact that one of the birding couples (from New York) that we encountered during the morning was scanning the flock carefully. We watched as another car, presumably with other birders, rolled up to the flock, paused for a moment and then moved on. Thea and I figured that this meant that there was no Pink Footed Goose in flock and, mindful of the three hour drive back to Philly, went to the park's rest room, before leaving to come home.

Exiting the rest room, we decided to go over and scan the flock "just in case", noticing that a small group of new birds had just flown in to join the flock. As we approached and got out our binoculars, we saw that the couple from New York were wildly waving exitedly and pointing. Sure enough, there in the midst of, perhaps, 200 Canada Geese was a single Pink Footed Goose. Despite the humorous name, the Goose is really beautiful. It is the size of Canada Goose but browner with a delicate white edging to its feathers. The beak is stubby and a beautfiul shade of pink at its base, and the bird's legs and feet are (indeed) bright pink.

We stayed for another 30 minutes reveling in the bird that was a thousand miles off its migratory path. As we drove home, Thea and I relived the excitement of finding the bird, against pretty steep odds. In talking with the other birders from New York, we found out that the Pink Footed Goose had flown in with the last group of birds, just as Thea and I exited the restroom.

The moral of the story: in birding as in life, persistence pays, and sometimes, you need a little luck too!!

By the way, while we were watching the bird, the folks from Texas and New Jersey also showed up, and so everyone got to see the Goose!

"...by sharing in their struggle for justice."

2009-11-24T15:28:00.000-05:00

The third ministry guideline of the St. Francis Inn says "we wish to make a special effort to serve our sisters and borthers by sharing in their struggle for justice." Feeding and clothing the poor is essential, but in an ideal world there would be no need for the St. Francis Inn. Mark and I want to spend some of our time here learning how to have real change in our society, not just short-term solutions.
We have not been very successful tapping into the groups in the Philadelphia area that promote justice and systemic change. However, there is a Catholic Worker House in our neighborhood, and in addition to running the free medical clinic on our street, the Catholic Workers at this house work with immigration, peace issues and have an outreach clinic in Haiti. Last week we attended a talk by two of the Workers, Katie and Johanna, as well as Bishop Thomas Gumbleton. Bishop Gumbleton is familiar to many because of his work with Pax Christi USA and Bread for the World, as well as being a frequent columnist for NCR. It was a thrill to meet him, as well as hear about the clinic. Haiti is the poorest country in this hemisphere, with 80% of the people making less than $2.00 per day. The clinic began at the request of a Catholic priest in Cite Soleil, the huge slum in the capital. The group decided the way to make systemic change was to train "health agents" who would do low-tech education and wellness strategies. They talk to their neighbors about handwashing and boiling water. They distribute mosquito nets and ibuprofen. Pretty simple compared to western medicine, but even these simple techniques yield big results.
Monday we skipped our own community meal and went to the Catholic Worker House for a roundtable discussion with Bishop Gumbleton. In September he was part of a group that visited northern Iraq. He was hosted by Chaldean Catholics, and spoke to both Christians and Muslims about life in the Kurdish north. Most of what he said was familiar to us, such as the desire of the Kurds for an autonomous state, but it was interesting to hear him talk about some of the internal peace initiatives that were not being brokered by the U.S. or United Nations. Unfortunately, there was not a lot of time for questions and answers, and both Mark and I had many questions we wanted to ask. We will continue to look for opportunities such as these during our stay in Philadelphia.

A Thing as Lovely as a Tree

2009-11-22T19:20:00.000-05:00

One of the things Mark and I miss the most is our yard. We love to sit on our screened porch, watching the birds at our feeders, saying hello to our wonderful neighbors, and glorying in the many trees in our yard through the seasons. Most of our neighborhood is treeless. Today I had the opportunity to make that change by planting trees throughout our zipcode area. Through a variety of groups and grants from the state horticultural association, 75 trees were planted along the sidewalks in our area. I met some really neat young people, including the president of our neighborhood association. Young people are moving into our neighborhood, buying their first homes, and fixing up the neglected rental properties. It makes the neighborhood safer and stronger. I was able to talk to them about the Inn and our guests and how we might all work together to make the neighborhood cleaner and more cohesive. While it was not direct service to the poor, I hope that by making the environment more natural, those who live here will feel more in touch with the One who created it all.

"Why me, God? Why not someone else's child?"

2009-11-19T19:49:00.000-05:00

Yesterday evening I was assigned the job of office person, and Mark was the coordinator for the evening meal. About 5:30 a woman named Desiree came up to Mark and made an unintelligible statement, and then burst into tears. Mark ushered her into the office. We managed to learn that her 5 year old son Matthew had died in a car accident last Friday. The boy's father had been driving under the influence, had not put a seat belt on the boy, and the car had crashed into something, sending Matthew flying through the windshield.
Since the office had people in it waiting to use the phone and get mail, I suggested that I take Desiree upstairs to a more private place. I offered her the use of the chapel, and she asked if I would pray with her. I felt utterly helpless, not knowing what words I could offer that could in any way help her pain. I prayed that God would hold her son for her, and that she would feel peace, knowing Matthew was happy in heaven. She calmed down and added her own prayer, but then wailed out, "Why me, God? Why not some other mother's son?" I told her it was okay to be angry with God, that He did not make this happen, but she might feel like she was being punished in some way. I also told her that God loved her and would help her through this grief. We also spoke of practical things: did she have any friends or family she could stay with, did she have a social worker helping her with the funeral expenses and grief counseling, etc. Desiree went back and forth between violent sobbing, and rational planning. All I could really do was put my arm around her, cry with her, and be present to her. Finally, she said she was ready to leave, and went home. The funeral for her little boy is Friday morning. Please keep Desiree in your prayers.

Group Support

2009-11-16T09:42:00.000-05:00

Serving a meal at the Inn requires the work of a large number of people. We are blessed with an abundance of local volunteers who come on a weekly or monthly basis and act as servers, bussers, dishwashers and cooks for the meals. In addition, there are groups that come from far away parishes, such as Canton, Massachusetts or New Hampshire on a regular basis, stay for a weekend or more, and help out. We have housing on the block for groups of 8-10 individuals. Last week we had a group arrive from St. Francis of Assisi parish in Raleigh, NC. Mark and I have visited that parish on several occasions and attended a hunger conference there last February, so we had a connection with the group. Several members of the group were engaged in the Just Faith program at the parish; others had seen the announcement in the bulletin and were interested in serving at an inner city soup kitchen for a few days.
It is a positive experience for me when we have a group come for a few days. First of all, it allows others the chance to serve in a way that they might not be able to in a more affluent setting. The enthusiasm of the group rubs off on us and makes us more attuned to the guests and their needs. I was particularly happy to have two women from the group go with me to St. Benedict's Thrift Shop and assist the guests, especially the men, who were in need of coats, shoes and pants. When I am at the shop, I cannot leave the front desk area because I am the only one allowed to handle the money. So often people come in, want something, but will leave saying that there is not anything in their size. By having extra volunteers present, customers were able to find the things they needed in their size. Finally, this group came while the Team was on retreat. The ten people from St.Francis could be used at the meal to help replace the ten Team members who were gone.
The sheets were barely dry, and another group arrived, this time from Bonaventure College in New York. I believe that these groups get much more than they give when they spend time here in Kensington.

The Most Unwanted Guests

2009-11-10T13:47:00.000-05:00

According to the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, 20 to 25% of the homeless population in the United States suffers from some form of severe mental illness. In comparison, only 6% of Americans are severely mentally ill (National Institute of Mental Health, 2009). In a 2008 survey performed by the U.S. Conference of Mayors, 25 cities were asked for the three largest causes of homelessness in their communities. Mental illness was the third largest cause of homelessness for single adults (mentioned by 48% of cities). For homeless families, mental illness was mentioned by 12% of cities as one of the top 3 causes of homelessness.

Here at St. Francis Inn, there are guests who are mentally ill. Some of these come daily to our meals, get toiletries, clothing vouchers and are shown respect and kindness. Some function well enough with medication that they can pay bills, have housing and lead fairly normal lives. Others are so ill that they are disruptive in their behaviors, end up in jails (where there are high populations of the mentally ill), or are easy victims for more lawless individuals.

Our first encounter with such a guest was "Jaime." "Jaime" stands on the street corner a good part of the day and reads loudly from the Bible. As he reads, he also reads out the name of the punctuation in the sentence, such as "Let there be light period." Other guests were disturbed by his reading during the meals, so he has been asked to come by at meal time and get a dinner "to go." He often attends daily Mass, and will comment on the homily. He is a veteran, has been institutionalized and often makes comments that seem much saner than many of the people who are "in charge" in this country.
Another guest is "Deacon." One of the first days that I was working at the Inn, the doorbell rang and a very nicely dressed man asked timidly if we had a pen and paper he could have. I knew there were school supplies being collected upstairs, but I felt I needed to ask the coordinator if I were allowed to take something. Sister Mary said that "Deacon" was ill, and thought he was writing a book. He sits on the corner and writes all day long in his notebook. When one looks at what he has written, it is gibberish. Once he fills up a notebook, he starts with a new one. "Deacon" is under a doctor's care, and we keep a pill counter with his weekly pills in our kitchen. When he comes for his meal, we also give him his daily allotment of pills.
"Bettie" is another guest who is tormented by inner demons. She is a beautiful, tall, willowy woman, who could pass for a runway model. However, she is continually walking about, talking out loud to the voices she hears in her head. She sometimes asks to use the phone, will dial a number, quickly leave a message, then hang up. She has family somewhere, but doesn't seem to want to stay with them. She appears very vulnerable and when she disappears for a few days, I worry that some harm has befallen her.
Because these people are not a threat to themselves or others, they are not institutionalized unless they wish to be. They could benefit from counseling and medication, but lack of transportation, funding and mental health workers or concerned family members/friends keep them from getting the services they need. We can only be a stopgap, taking care of their most basic physical needs like food and clothing. These people are the truly marginalized in our society, through no fault of their own, and deserve the same help we would extend to a person ill from cancer or diabetes.

The Museum in Heaven -- what would you put on exhibit?

2009-11-09T08:00:00.000-05:00

Yesterday at Mass, Fr. Michael gave a homily on the Widow's Mite gospel. He made the usual points about giving out of our want rather than just from our excess, etc. and then moved on to what I found to be a fascinating "sidebar". He said that if there were a "Museum in Heaven", he was certain that the Widow's mite would be one of the exhibits -- because these three coins represented what Jesus wants our attitude to be about material possessions. Fr. Michael also thought that the alabaster jar of aromatic oil that the women broke to anoint Jesus' feet and the glass used by the righteous to give water to Jesus "When I was thirsty" would also be key exhibits. Obviously, as a former museum director, I found this whole line of thought compelling, and I began reflecting on what I would include in this heavenly exhibition if I were the Curator. What would I think were the essential objects needed to tell the story of Christ's life on earth?

The centerpiece of my Museum in Heaven would certainly be a piece of the Calvary cross, the physical place where Jesus sacrified His life for our salvation. I would also include one of the linens that was left behind in the tomb -- perhaps the head cloth would be best, to represent His resurrection, the key experience of hope for all Christians. To represent the miracles, I would probably choose one of the large jugs that Jesus used to change water into wine at Cana, and a facsimile of the drawing that Jesus traced in the dirt in front of the woman caught in adultery.
From Christ's early life, there would be the manger from his birthplace, some tools from Joseph's carpenter's shop, and perhaps a piece of bright cloth from the caravan that Jesus left when he returned to the temple to begin learning about his Father's business, to the distress of his poor parents who didn't know where he went.
To represent the apostles, I would exhibit one of the fishing nets that Peter and his partners left when they first were recruited by Jesus, and the pouch containing the 30 silver pieces that Judas used to betray Jesus. For His battles with the Pharises, I would include the scroll that Jesus read from when he spoke in the temple for the first time and declared: "Today this reading (the coming of the Messiah) is fulfilled in your presence", and some of the wheat which His desciples threshed by hand on Sabbath, in violation of the strict Jewish law. And finally, I would include a copy of that Jewish Law itself, all 600+ tenets and juxtapose this to Jesus' law of the two great commandments to love God and love your neighbor.

As I read this list, I am struck by how small this exhibition would be! Jesus didn't leave behind many physical traces, or is my list here too limited? What you YOU include in the "Museum in Heaven's" artifact list?

Visit to Amish Country

2009-11-07T19:26:00.000-05:00

We were short-staffed for 4 days this week while some of the full-time workers were on retreat. So Mark had to do pick-ups for 3 of 4 days, and Thea had to be the assistant cook for 2 days. Both cooks made soup, so Thea's job entailed chopping endless numbers of potatoes, onions and peppers one day and snapping green beans for 2 hours on another. It was with real relief that we had today free. Thea's former student, Brenda Sallee, is working in Reading, and suggested we contact her and she would take us around Lancaster County. There are about 37,000 Old Order Amish (drive horse and buggy), other Amish (drive cars ) and Old Order Mennonites (no cars) that live in the county. We went to a hand-twisted pretzel factory, a quilt museum, and drove down the small 1 lane roads through the orderly farms of the Amish and Mennonites. We saw a man drive with his daughter in a buggy to Walmart, where they have buggy parking for the Amish. We also were amused by watching a carriage go through the "drive-through window" of a bank. The weather was sunny and about 50 degrees, so it was a perfect day for a ride in the country. We enjoyed a lunch at a country restaurant, served family style. We sampled homemade sausages, ham loaf, potato stuffing and shoo-fly pie. It was only a little over an hour from our home to Lancaster County, yet we felt like we were in another era.

Philadelphia Strikes Out

2009-11-05T06:31:00.000-05:00

This posting is not about baseball, although the Phillys did lose to the NY Yankees in the 6th game of the World Series. The strike I am referring to is the SEPTA strike; these are the workers that keep the buses, trollies and subway/el train running. The strike began in the middle of the night Monday after the baseball game ended. Commuters coming in on the light rail were shocked to reach the subway and find it was not running. There are 35,000 public school children who use public transportation to get to school, and thousands more who attend private/parochial schools who walked, biked, skateboarded or found a car ride to school.
Apparently when the new contracts are negotiated every 4 years, terms are not met and the strike occurs. The length has varied from just a few days to 100 days. So how is the SEPTA strike affecting St. Francis Inn? One of the most obvious is the low numbers of senior citizens who are coming to eat. We had less than 50 seniors last night, compared to our usual 100. Since seniors can ride the buses for free, many of our guests who live more than a mile away depend on the buses to get them to the Inn. Likewise, we have had several of our most dependable daytime volunteers call in and say they could not come and help. The last two days there have been only 2 or 3 of us who have prepared the food, taking most of the 6 hours we have available before mealtime. The roads are in gridlock, because commuters are being forced to drive to work rather than take mass transit. As a result, pickups of the bread and baked goods are taking longer.
The strike has brought out the worst in people.There are all sorts of stories of road rage, motorists and cyclists battling out space, and people getting up at 3 am to make the commute. There are stories of kindness,too. A man told me this morning he was driving home yesterday and saw some elderly people standing on the street corner. He thought maybe they didn't know about the strike. So he rolled his window down and asked them if they knew the buses weren't running. They replied they were waiting for a cab as they had to go to the hospital. It turned out that the hospital was close to his home, and he ended up driving the couple to their destination.
We hope that a just mediation of the contract will occur very soon.

The Ties That Bind

2009-11-02T05:55:00.000-05:00

When Mark and I first discussed giving a year of service after retirement, we considered going outside the U.S., perhaps with the Peace Corps or Franciscan Mission Service. Our younger daughter, who had recently produced our first grandchild, was appalled. How could we go off for one or two years, missing out on all the landmark events of a young child? For that reason and various others, we amended our search to locations east of the Mississippi.
In the past 3 weeks, we have been thankful we did. First, our second grandchild arrived, two weeks early, and I was able to go down to Athens, Ga and assist our daughter Andrea with little Katie. Right before I was to leave, our daughter Angela called, quite distraught, because her son Cade had H1N1 flu, and she had been unable to get the vaccine. Since she is pregnant, this was a matter of concern. Mark was prepared to get in the car and drive 8 hours to Raleigh to take care of the boy. However, the other grandparents generously drove from Hickory to get him and kept him the remainder of the week. Thankfully, Angela did not have any symptoms of the flu.
It is all well and good for us to care for the people of Philadelphia, but our first priority has to be to our family. Several of the people who are long time volunteers at the Inn have taken leave of absence to care for ill parents or other relatives. I can understand better the sacrifice priests, religious and lay missioners make when they go far away from home and family for several years at a time. Likewise, those members of the armed forces who are serving overseas are making a great sacrifice. Our nephew Will is currently serving in Iraq, and was unable to attend his brother's wedding last Friday. He called from Iraq and was able to speak to many family members. We were happy to hear his voice, but will be happier when he returns to us safe and sound.

The Guests, Part 2

2009-10-24T12:07:00.000-04:00

We call them guests, the people that come to our meals, and they are certanly that.
we serve them a sit down meal, every day of the week, just like they were customers at a restaurant. Sometimes I think of them as clients, or as recipients, or as blessings, but always they are individuals....people, each with a story.

One of the first of the guests that I noticed when we came to the St. Frances Inn was a tall, muscular, man named Bill. Bill is 63 and a little scruffy looking (unkempt beard, a Jack Daniels headband, longish hair), but he also is friendly. We quickly learned each other's names, and eventually he told me his story. He used to be a New Jersey State Trooper (and still has a license to carry a gun) with a family. One day in 1974 a drunk driver hit and killed his wife and his older child. The driver was charged with vehicular manslaughter, but a good lawyer got him off with only a suspended sentence and got his driver's license back almost immediately. Bill was so incensed at the verdict that he threw his Trooper's badge at the judge and resigned from the police force on the spot.

The next 16 years were a blur, lost in drink, meth, go-go clubs, and bars. Amazingly, Bill was able to balance this life with a tow truck and garage business, getting an average of 2 hours of sleep per night. Finally, in 1989, he quit drinking and using drugs "because I didn't want to live like that anymore". Around that time, he also began coming to the St. Frances Inn because the people were friendly and many of his street friends also came here to get a meal. He has stayed around and now is a source of help for others. These include "the 96 old lady that lives behind me" and "the couple with two retarded children who live next door". He brings them food from the Inn sometimes or helps them with odd jobs. Bill still has his tow truck and a garage and occasionally works or leases out his truck to others, but spends most of his time on the street and at the Inn. When I asked him why he does this, he told me: "This is my famly now, and these are my friends. I like helping people out when I can."

Bill's story surprised me. I look upon most of the people who come to us as "needy", but am discovering that this need comes in many forms. Certainly we have our share of addicts, mentally retarded people, immigrants, and others that society views as disadvantaged. However, there are also some, like Bill, for whom this is their community in which each plays a useful and positive role. Chalk up another lesson for Mark...stay tuned, I am ssure that I have much more to learn about this unique place called the St. Frances Inn.

Aging with Grace

2009-10-20T10:45:00.000-04:00

One of the unexpected benefits of working at St. Francis Inn is getting to know women religious. Other than the wonderful Maryvale Community in Lincoln County, Mark and I have had little contact with women religious during the past 35 years. There are a number of Sisters that we have come to know and admire.
Sister Jude is a Sister of the Holy Family of Nazareth. She was a college art professor for many years before becoming a visiting nurse. Now, at 77, she works 3 days a week at the Inn and always cooks the dinner on Wednesday. It is amazing to see this septuagenarian baking chicken for 300.
Sister Mary, an Alleghany Franciscan, 73 years old and Sr. Leslie,68, a Sister of St. Francis of Philadelphia, both began their ministry in education. At some point they both decided to work with the poor and served at women's shelters in New York and Boston. In the early '90's they came to Kensington. They organize the rest of us, clean, carry loads, and help the guests. Their energy puts me to shame.
Another Sister comes on Tuesday and Thursday and helps with the breakfast for the guests. She and her twin sister are both Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament, founded by St. Katharine Drexel here in Philadelphia. The order was founded to serve Native American and African-American children, and Sister Margaret,87, spent most of her ministry serving at reservations in the Southwestern U.S. She just celebrated her 60th anniversary as a sister.
I think the positive outlook these Sisters exude and the energy they have that allows them to help others are partially products of a life of prayer, reflection, and happiness in their choice of a vocation.

Musings on a cold, rainy day

2009-10-17T17:42:00.000-04:00

We are having 2 northeasters back to back. The first one hit on Thursday, our day off. We knew it would be rainy with a high of 48, so we had planned to go to a movie and hear a lecture on Mayan birds. However, Br. Fred was going to New York City to the motherhouse, and asked if we wanted to come along. The only problem was that he was leaving at 5:30 am. The time was not a problem, so off we went and we were at the friary about 7:30. We ate breakfast at a diner, then Mark and I got on the subway at Penn Station and headed for the Statue of Liberty. We had not planned enough in advance to go up in the crown, but we did go inside the monument and had a wonderful time despite the cool, wet day.
Today was the third day of rain, and the sewer started to back up into the basement of the Inn. Mark and Br. Fred spent about 4 hours with the shop vac getting the water out of the basement until the plumber arrived. Apparently the flooding occurs a few times a year.
I was out in the yard giving out tickets for the meal. Most of the guests were adequately clothed, but one young mother arrived with her 3 children, the youngest being born last Saturday. Another woman was wearing flip flops. I had on two pairs of socks, and was ready to give her one of my pairs, but she took off before I could offer. One man, walking with a cane, came up to me and said he had a problem The tongue of his shoe was stuck down too far, and he needed it lifted out and the shoe retied. He was not agile enough to squat down, do it himself, and get back up. I told him I would do it, and was somewhat shocked to discover he didn't have a foot in the shoe. He was either an amputee or had a clubfoot. I fixed the shoe, and he was so grateful. It was a really humbling experience.
Finally, Mark got his first haircut today since arriving. There is a barber across the street who cuts hair for $5.00. He doesn't speak English, but he has pictures of men with various haircuts on the wall, and you point to one and he does the cut. I went along to watch, and try to intervene if the barber went crazy with the shears. The cut actually looks pretty good.

It's a Girl!

2009-10-15T20:50:00.000-04:00

We were very excited to hear that we are grandparents again. Our first grandaughter, Catherine Ann Zedek, was born today at 5:17. She was two weeks early, and weighed 5 pounds 9 ounces. Mom, Dad and baby are all doing well. We were sorry we could not be their for the birth, but we will be going to Georgia in about 10 days and will meet our little cherub at that time.

The Veteran Volunteer

2009-10-14T16:39:00.000-04:00

There are lots of “characters” who are integral to the community that staff the St. Francis Inn. One of the first I met was Joe. He is a tall, thin, African American man with graying hair and beard. Joe moves carefully with obvious effort, and I quickly surmised that he lives in varying amounts of pain. For some reason, Joe and I quickly developed a bond. He’s at the Inn several days a week beginning at 6:30 am, and so for the first few days after Thea and I arrived, I would see him and say something like: “Another day with the same people -- It is amazing that we cannot get a better quality of volunteer here at the Inn!” He would come back with a quick retort, maybe something like: “I know, we are especially weak in volunteers from North Carolina!”

After we’d been here about two weeks, Joe asked a favor. Would I please drive him the VA Hospital for a procedure? He is on dialysis and one of the veins through which he gets his medicine was swollen. I said that I would be happy to do this, and early on a Wednesday morning, we headed out. As I drove, Joe told me his story. He grew up in Philadelphia and after high school enlisted in the Army. Soon he found himself in the middle of the Vietnam War, serving as an NCO on a Hawk missile battery during the middle 1960’s. One day, the jeep in which he and his missile crew were riding hit a land mine. The explosion was horrific, and the next thing Joe knew, he woke up in a hospital, having been in a coma for 4 days. His companions were killed, except for one who lost a leg.

Joe was shipped home to the west coast and spent nearly a year in rehab. There was internal damage to many organs including his kidneys; both legs were filled with shrapnel; and he had to learn to walk again. After finally being discharged from the hospital, Joe chose not to immediately go home: he did not want his family to see him in his weakened state. This gives you some insight into the strong, proud core of this dignified man. Instead, Joe worked his way across country as a ranch hand, and this allowed him to build up his strength.

Eventually he returned home with fully restored health and took a job with the Pennsylvania Rail Road. Unfortunately after working there eight years, there was a terrible accident: Joe was thrown from a moving train and experienced severe injuries including a mangled right leg which required surgery. Again he was disabled, this time permanently. After a period of convalescence, it became clear that he could no longer work, and so he settled down with his disability payments to live out his life, a life, which because of his various medical ailments which now included heart problems, knee pain, and kidney disease, seemed increasingly bleak.

But shortly thereafter, while riding the "El" (our nickname for the elevated train which is part of Philly’s subway) along Kensington Avenue, Joe noticed a long line of people queued up in front of an old building. Curious, he went back to the place –which turned out to be the St. Francis Inn – and asked what they did there. The staff explained, and Joe began volunteering as his health allowed. That was 18 years ago, and Joe is still here. He comes in on Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday. The other days he gets dialysis treatments: his war-damaged kidneys finally failed a couple of years ago.

When he is at the Inn, Joe does a variety of tasks, mostly having to do with bagging and processing the thousands of pieces of bread and baked goods that the Inn receives each week. He also is so knowledgeable about the Inn that he basically helps “train” all the volunteers --- such as Thea and me – who rotate in and out of the place.

As I write this, I am sitting in the Presbyterian Hospital of Philadelphia, waiting for Joe to finish yet another procedure. On the way here, Joe was cracking jokes, bantering with me and VA van driver assigned to us, and pointing out places of interest in Philly to me as we passed. I thought to myself how amazing this was. If I had as many medical concerns as Joe, I would be holed up in my house feeling sorry for myself, but this guy approaches life with a gritty smile, determination, and a positive, “get up and go” attitude. He even takes time, a significant amount of time each week, to help others. It is impressive.

Last time we were together, I asked Joe why he volunteers so much at the St. Francis Inn. His reply: “It keeps me going and gives me a reason to get up in the morning!” As I grow older, I certainly hope that I (and all of us) will always seek reasons to “get up in the morning”, even when it is far easier to sit and vegetate.

Certainly, this is God’s plan for Thea and me and if everyone did this, it would make our world a far better place.

Cleanliness is next to Godliness

2009-10-13T10:42:00.000-04:00

We have stated in our blog and various emails that much of the work here is very physical. The Inn does get inspected like any other restaurant, and we have certain standards of health and safety we have to meet. After every meal, we sweep, mop, wipe downn all tables, chairs, counters, remove garbage, recycle lots of plastic, cardboard, and aluminum. However, since we are open 7 days a week, we don't have the advantage of a closing to do more extensive cleaning. Therefore, we have "cleaning Mondays" on the first Monday of each month. This is when walls, the refrigerator, windows, stoves and other big items get cleaned. Due to Labor Day, we missed this day in September. So last Monday we had our first experience, and Mark and I were very happy to have a chance to make war on dirt. I chose to clean a rolling counter in and out, and to get the caked-on grime that covered two high chairs and booster chairs. Mark volunteered to get behind the two stoves, tilt skillet and large kettle. He was thin enough to get on the floor behind these appliances and scrub the accumulated grease, roaches and whatever else was back there. He worked over 3 hours on this area, and generally impressed the entire staff. Depending on whom we talked to, it had not been done for somewhere between 8 months and 2 years. When he emerged from his battle on filth, he looked like he had been in a war zone. His face and clothes were black, his hands were raw, and his muscles were sore. I wish I had my camera with me!

2009-10-08T11:54:00.000-04:00

Yes or No?

2009-10-08T11:06:00.000-04:00

We need rules and laws. Society would be chaos without them. Even at a place like St. Francis Inn there are rules: meals are served only at specific times, the office is open on a fixed schedule, and so on. If a homeless person has a need outside of these times, we are not supposed to respond. Why? Because if there were no office hours, there would be a constant barrage of requests 24/7, and the institution would collapse. As it is, the Inn serves meals seven days per week and there are office hours every day of the year when we deal with all sorts of needs.

I (Mark)understand this -- I am basically a legalistic, rule-following person, EXCEPT when presented with the face of a person in need. Then, it is tough. For example, last week, I was walking near the St. Francis Inn when I was approached by a man asking for money. I always lean toward saying "yes and casting my bread on the water", and a quick look at the guy's cloths and demeanor seemed to indicate that he was really in need. But the Inn's rule is that you never give money to the homeless because it is often used to buy drugs or alcohol. So, I said "No", feeling guilty.

Several days later, Thea and I were in the Inn at 3 PM getting organized for the evening pick ups. The doorbell rang, but since it was outside of normal office hours, we didn't answer. A few minutes later, we had finished our tasks and left the to go to our house, next door. Two young men were standing outside, obviously the people who had rung the bell. They said that they were hungry, having walked several miles to the Inn, but had missed the meal. Was there any way that they could get something -- anything -- to eat. While I was still deciding on how to respond, Thea said " Sure!". And, instantly, my own reluctance vanished: why shouldn't we respond? We both knew that the next meal the Inn would be serving would not be until Monday afternoon @ 4:30 -- more than 24 hours in the future.

Quickly, Thea and I went back inside and in a few minutes had made a couple of roast beef sandwiches, assembled some packaged bread, desserts, and drink. We placed the whole thing in a plastic bag, tossed in a couple pieces of fruit and presented the meal to the two guys. Their thanks was genuine, eye to eye, heart to heart. I felt really blessed by the spirit of Christ in the response.

Reflecting on this issue today, I realize that rules are still necessary but that we must apply them in a spirit of love and compassion. There are many times when a "no" really is the best answer, but there are also times when the rules must be bent. Each instance and request is unique and must be evaluated given the situation.

I see all of the staff and volunteers at the St. Francis Inn, even the longtimers who have been here 20 and 30 years, struggling to keep a balance between "yes" & "no", using as their guide the example of Jesus and St. Frances. It is not such an easy thing to do, but I know that if we truly have the best interests of our clients at heart, Christ can work through each of us.

The Guests, Part I

2009-10-07T13:26:00.000-04:00

Mark and I have not talked specifically about any of the guests on this blog. We want to preserve their privacy, but at the same time they are very much a part of our lives here, much like my students were. We give to them, but they give us a great deal as well. So we have decided we will share some of their stories, but will change their names to protect their privacy.
The first or second day that I served a meal at the Inn, I noticed a man in his mid-fifties, with nicely cut gray hair. With his pressed khakis, Italian leather shoes and clean shirt, he looked more like a businessman on casual Friday than a person who needed a meal. The next time I saw him I introduced myself and told him I was from North Carolina. "Sean" is a native Philadelphian, and a living guidebook for places to see in the Philly area. He told us about the museums, gardens, churches, you name it. He had been to Charlotte on business in the past, so knew a little about that city. It turns out that "Sean's" parents became very ill, and he took a leave of absence from Chase Manhattan bank about a year ago to take care of them. When they died and he returned, the bank was laying people off and he lost his job. He is too young for social security or a retirement package without penalty, so he is trying to get by with unemployment money as long as he can. In a few months he can tap into his pension plan He has made a few friends among the other guests. One of these is "Harry." "Harry" is 85, lives nearby and is a WWII veteran. He served in the Navy in North Africa, Italy and the Pacific. He walks to the Inn, and spends some days at the senior citizen center downt he street. He brags that the other guests refer to "Sean" and himself as the "intelligentsia" because almost every question they are asked about sports or history they are able to answer. "Harry" has had numerous surgeries for cancer, but his mind is very good and he always has a funny story to tell. I think the Inn gives him a good social outlet.
I got to know "Jenny" at the Thrift Store when I was working one day. She is about 18 and has a one year old baby girl. She had a voucher from the Inn for baby clothes and household items like dishes,sheets, curtains, etc. She was very forthright about her past, doing drugs and getting pregnant. Once she discovered she was pregnant, she stopped taking drugs and has been drug-free. Unfortunately, the damage was done for her baby, who was born with one lung, reversed blood vessels and a faulty heart. Because the baby's illness and "Jenny" having to be home with her, she does get some state and federal money to help support them. She has rented an apartment with a basement and 2 bedrooms, and is planning to rent out the extra room and basement. She needed furniture, but we don't carry any. As luck would have it, the next time I saw her she had gotten furniture from a woman she had met on a bus who was in the process of moving to Florida. Last Wednesday the baby had open heart surgery to repair the heart. I have not seen "Jenny" since the surgery to learn the outcome.

Feast of St. Francis

2009-10-04T08:10:00.000-04:00

October 4 is a special day to the Franciscan friars, sisters and lay people associated with the St. Francis Inn. Francis lived 800 years ago, but it is amazing how relevant his renunciation of possessions and power in medieval Italy is today in the United States and other consumer cultures. The Franciscans have two celebrations in his honor. The first occurred on the evening of Oct. 3. It is called the "Transitus" and celebrates Francis crossing over from life to eternal life. We went to the Motherhouse of the Franciscan Sisters of Philadelphia. They have a beautiful stone residence south of Philly near the Delaware border. The order was founded by Bishop (St.) John Neuman, and at its peak had 1500 sisters. Today there are about 450. We sat in their beautiful darkened chapel, and the Paschal candle was taken in procession to the front. Then an unlit candle, representing Francis, was carried forward and lit. Various sisters read parts of the Francis' biography depicting his last few days on earth and we sang a song written by one of the sisters that told of his life. Finally, when the part relating Francis' actual death was read, the candle was extinguished, but then a light was passed to each of us (we had tapers like on Holy Saturday)and we represented the followers of Francis. Francis heard the voice of Christ from the crucifix in San Damiano church, who said, "Repair my house." Francis came to realize that this did not mean just the physical building, but the people of God who needed attention. In 1206 they were the lepers and beggars. Today they are the homeless, those with AIDS, the immigrants, and others that our society casts out.
On Sunday, we started our day, as always, with the Eucharist. Br. Fred had decorated the altar beautifully with autumn flowers and pumpkins, gourds, etc. Mark, Barb and Sr. Mary led the music, including a rousing final hymn that was "Canticle of the Sun."
At the meal, we let the guests take home a whole dessert (an entire cake, pie, box of cookies, etc) as well as gave each child a book of his choice.
Finally, at 5:30 we had our own community meal. Mark made 12 lb of mashed potatoes, and I made broccoli casserole. We had a huge number of desserts as well.

Generosity

2009-09-30T09:30:00.000-04:00

Druing my 30 years as a museum director I (Mark) certainly learned to rely on the generosity of others. My accommplishments were always underpinned by the gifts of people's time, talent, and funds. The same is true here, but even to a greater extent. The St. Francis Inn accepts no government funds or grants, allowing the governing "team" to make decisions solely on the basis of the needs of our clients, as the Holy Spirit directs. All of the food which we distribute to 300 - 400 people each day is donated; all of the funds which pay the stipends to the paid staff (the salaries are very low!) and help people with short term needs such as rent are donated; and all of the goods such as clothing (some of which is almost new)that are distributed through the St. Benedict's thrift store are given to us. Truly, God works through generous people. One of my jobs is "pick ups", i.e. driving our battered van to businesses to pick up their food donations. It is amazing to me how these generous firms donate, on a daily basis, enough food to fill the van. Every day...if one pick up is smaller than usual, another is always larger. I often ask myself why the businesses contribute: I mean if it was I who was running the bakery, I would simply make fewer loaves of bread and bagels and have less left over! Obviously,God works through these generous people, warming their hearts to the needs of those less fortunate. What a privilege it is to work with such community-minded people.

The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly

2009-09-29T14:49:00.001-04:00

Philadelphia is made up of neighborhoods. Ours is called Kensington. It was once a thriving manufacturing center, with homes, shops and factories. Then the factories closed, the stores moved to the suburbs and buildings were abandoned. Other former factory neighborhoods like Fishtown, Port Richmond and Northern Liberties are nearby. Some of these neighborhoods are being revitalized. Factories are being renovated with lofts and condos sitting above art galleries and wine bars. There are signs of beauty in our neighborhood as well. An urban garden is present, a playground, pocket park and murals painted on the sides of buildings. Of course, there are also homeless people, drug deals, lots of trash, broken glass and graffiti.

Cheesesteak Wars

2009-09-28T07:50:00.000-04:00

Saturday marked 4 weeks of being in Philly and we decided to celebrate by having a famous Philly Cheesesteak. We had been polling natives as to best cheesesteak. While Jim's in South Philly and Steve's in Northeast Philly got high ratings, we decided to go with the two that most people are familiar with-Pat's and Geno's. Since Geno has a sign that says that you must order in English, and that seems terribly un-Franciscan, we opted for the older stand, founded in 1930. (Just as an aside: the south Philly brand of English is almost unintelligible to me: "Yo! Where youse guys put da wadder ice wit my name on it?")
Legend says that the Oliveri brothers were hotdog vendors, and one day served a cab driver some chopped steak in a hotdog bun. The cabbie came back for more, it spread around, and soon the brothers realized they had a hit. They built a stand in South Philly, at the present location, in 1930. One day a bored cook put cheese on the sandwich, and a sensation was born. Geno's, across the intersection, didn't open until 1966. Both use Italian bread from the same bakery, and both cut the beef off a fresh (not frozen) hunk of beef. Neither have inside seating. The lines move fast, and when one gets to the window, the money (no credit or debit cards accepted) should be in hand and the order rehearsed. We had "2 cheesesteaks, with, whiz, to go." Translation: 2 cheesesteaks with fried onions and cheese whiz. One could order American, provolone or swiss cheese, and also mushrooms and/or peppers for an additional cost. A separate window takes orders for soda, fries or hot chocolate. The place is open until 2 am, and the current great nephew of the founders says the secret of the flavor is the 75 year old grill upon which the meat is cooked. Was it good? Yes. Was it the best Philly cheesesteak we ever had? Probably not. But the experience was priceless.

The Women's Center

2009-09-24T15:35:00.000-04:00

Today was my first visit to the Thea Bowman Women's Center. Sister Xavier, a former college professor, has been running it since 1992. It is a daytime residence center, operating from 10-4 Monday-Friday. About 10-15 women of all ages will come each day. They shower, wash their clothes, have breakfast and lunch, and generally "hang out." On Tuesday and Thursday they have a guided group discussion, facilitated by Sister Xavier. Since today was my first visit, each woman told something about herself and something about the Center. The remarks about the Center were so positive--they felt peace here, it was a place they could get away from drugs and alcohol, they saw the other women and Sister as their family. Some of the women had been sober for 5-20 years. Others were still struggling with alcohol and drugs. One woman told me she raised 5 children and held a job until she was 40. Then from 40-50 she was drinking heavily. Today at 70, she has been sober for 20 years. She has helped raise grandchildren and even a great grandchild. She rides a bike to and from the center. Another woman told me she had a college degree and had been living in Florida with a husband and 2 children. She came to Philadelphia to visit her brother, and things got out of hand. She divorced her husband, started drinking and never made it back to Florida. That was 10 years ago. She has been sober 5 years. She loves to do crafts, and made me a friendship bracelet. She is also an epiletic, and worries that when she walks to the Center, she will have a seizure on the street and no one will help her.
I felt overwhelmed listening to these stories and those of the other women. What could I contribute to their lives? Other than praying for them, I felt at a loss.

Music, the Universal Connection

2009-09-22T09:17:00.000-04:00

Moving to a new place is difficult. There are entirely new people, a new neighborhood, a huge, unfamiliar city to deal with. One of the things which keeps me (Mark) connected is music. The very first item I loaded into our car when we were packing for our trip up here was my keyboard, and one of the first connections I made upon arriving was with Sister Mary, who does the music for our weekly mass. Thea and I are only three weeks into our stay here in Philly, but already, I am a member of the St. Francis Inn's music group. Sister plays guitar and together we provide the music for mass. Last week, we sang "Servant Song" and the meditation was "Prayer of St. Francis" which I played as an instrumental. It was a great way for me to share my gift for music with our community. As I played the Alleluia for the Mass of Glory (the "Mark" Alleluia), I thought fondly of our wonderful Contemporary Choir at St. Al's and how much I miss playing with them. However, in a meaningful way, the fact that I am playing for the masses here connects me to those that I have (temporarily) left behind and to God in a very special way.

Visiting the Jersey Shore

2009-09-19T16:48:00.000-04:00

In Florida and NC, you go to the beach. Some places call it the coast. In the mid-Atlantic states, you go to "the shore."
Friday was our day off. We had not been off together for 10 days, so we had a big day planned. After Mass we drove to Brigantine Wildlife Refuge near Atlantic City, and looked for the white-rumped sandpipers. They hadn't been seen for 5 days, but we wanted to give it a try. The tide was really high, and I guess there were no places for the little birds to feed on a mudflat, so we failed seeing them. We did see some beautiful mute swans (wild) and a great closeup of a merlin, a type of hawk.
From there we drove north to Tom's River, then took a bridge across Barnegat Bay to a barrier island. The houses on the island were so close that you could touch two different ones at the same time. However, most of the island had been preserved as Island Beach State Park, which was about 10 miles long and a few hundred feet wide.This is the only preserved barrier island in the entire state. We were looking for a thrush that had been found and banded the day before, but we had no real leads on the location, so we didn't see it. We did enjoy walking through the maritime forest on the bay side of the island and seeing the large dunes on the ocean side. The place was pretty much deserted as the season ends on Labor Day. We decided to find a place in the town of Seaside Park for dinner, and found a seafood restaurant still open until Sunday, when it would close until next May. The restaurant was on the second floor of a building and had windows on three sides overlooking the state park and the bay. It took us about an hour and 45 minutes to get back to Philadelphia. On the way back we drove through Lakehurst, NJ, site of the Hindenberg balloon explosion, and also Medford, NJ, where Mark's grandmother is buried.

Perspective

2009-09-17T12:59:00.000-04:00

I(Mark)have a health concern that is really worrying me. It's not something that will "kill me tomorrow", but it may very well change the way I live longterm. I have been thinking about this issue for a while now, praying at mass for my "special intention". This morning Thea and I went to mass, and again in the silence before the service began, I prayed silently to God to "take this cup from me". As I was praying, I noticed one of the St. Frances Inn's regular guests coming in to mass. He is a swarthy looking character, but basically clean and well mannered. He looked straight at me and, without missing a beat, said: "Isn't it great to be alive today!" Indeed. Here is a man who is, at best working poor, and at worst borderline homeless praising God for the gift of life. Would that we all do as well as this man, and stop worrying about things we cannot control and start trusing more in the Lord.

Mail Check, Please

2009-09-16T08:06:00.000-04:00

On Monday, both Mark and I had the opportunity to work in the office of the Inn and answer the "side door." During the day and also during the serving of the meal, many people come and ring the doorbell. Some are asking for diapers, others for a glass of water or a snack cake. But most of them want to see if they have any mail or if they can use our phone.
For people in transitional housing, it is important to have a permanent address. Otherwise, they can miss getting important mail like bank statements and social security checks. Many people use the Inn's address as their permanent one. So the Inn has a file cabinet where we keep the mail in alphabetical order. If a person wants us to check for mail, he shows us his I.D. and we go to the proper drawer and hunt for any mail.
Some of our guests have prepaid cell phones. Others have used up their minutes, had the phone stolen, need to charge it up, or just don't have any means of telephoning. So we have a phone for their use in our office. A staff member needs to be present during the calls. The most common phone call seems to be to a relative. A guest wants to check in, let the relative know how he is doing, and what the latest news is from the street. Sometimes a friend has gone to jail, or died, and the news needs to be passed on.
The other way people use our phone is to call the Inn during serving hours and ask for a person they believe may be eating or waiting to eat. Monday I had a man call from the prison and ask for Robert. I went out to the yard and called for Robert. I was told he hadn't arrived yet. One cannot put the prison caller on hold because it disconnects the prepaid phone call. So I returned to the office and told the caller his friend hadn't come yet. He called back 20 minutes later, and I tried again. This time Robert was there and was able to talk to his friend. I have been told by the staff that sometimes a person in jail will call and if none of his friends are around, that he will use his call time to talk to the staff member, just so he has a conversation with someone outside the prison.

Rainy Days and Mondays.....

2009-09-12T11:28:00.000-04:00

Most people prefer a sunny day to a rainy one. Even after the severe drought conditions in NC, I would catch myself complaining about the rain, but would then end my complaint by stating "but we need the rain." Rain was a minor inconvenience, forcing me to run home from the pool, or dash from the car into the school when I didn't have an umbrella.
We had our first rainstorm since arriving in Philadelphia on Thursday night. The wind was blowing so hard it woke me up. In my half-asleep state, I thought someone was breaking into our house through a window. Actually, the sound was the blinds thrashing against the open windows. It was trash collection day Friday, and the garbage cans and recyclables were blowing up and down the street. I was assigned to bathroom duty again, and I watched the guests arrive for the meal. Some had raincoats, umbrellas, even rain boots. Most just had their regular hooded sweatshirts and jackets. I was particularly concerned about the elderly who come with canes and crutches. They could not move quickly through the rain and the streets were slippery. It was impossible to carry an umbrella and use crutches simultaneously. One older man used the bathroom to change from wet clothes to dry ones before his departure. We served only half of our usual number due to the heavy rain. I wondered if those who didn't come would have a hot meal, or any meal, today.

Courage

2009-09-10T09:13:00.002-04:00

This morning, I (Mark) went to mass. The usual people were there -- team members, the Franciscan Volunteer Missioners, the Franciscan Friers -- holy, committed people trying to do God's will. These people inspire me daily, buth this morning, there were two newcomers. In the front row were two young men who introduced themselves as Danny and Richard. As mass progressed, I noticed that both held Klenexes and that there was a "connection" between them: a quick pat on the back or a touch on the arm. This support was not between gay partners, but rather the support of "partners in addiction". As the Precious Blood was passed to them, each man raised the cup in honor to the cross and passed the the cup to his neighbor without partaking.
at one point, Richard cried silently into his Klenex. After mass, I greeted both men and my conclusions were confirmed: Danny was five days into the AA program at the Treatment Center across the street from St. Francis Inn; Richard was on his very first day in the program. Both are recovering alcoholics.

Life on the street is hard. Many of our guests have various addictions. I really admire the courage of those who choose to face these addictions and to try to place them in the hands of God. There are many examples, but this morning, it was the quiet courage of Richard and Danny which spoke to me, and I will pray for each of them that they are successful. I invite you to pray for them as well.

2009-09-10T09:13:00.001-04:00

It's Breakfast Time

2009-09-10T07:20:00.000-04:00

The Inn serves breakfast to the guests Tuesday-Thursday. Unlike dinner, this meal is not a sit-down meal. Guests arrive around 10 am and go to a window where they pick up hot coffee or tea, pastries(Tuesday/Thursday) or cereal (Wednesdays). Wednesday I was in the "yard" where the guests stand or sit and eat and socialize. The yard is a paved lot with some lovely plants and trees along the north and east sides. My job was to monitor the bathrooms. When I had bathroom duty at my various high schools, I detested it because it took time away from getting ready for my classes. However, giving the guests a clean bathroom to use and making sure the bathrooms stay clean made me look at this assignment differently.
While I was at my post, a man came through the gate into the yard. Suddenly, he collapsed on the ground. I ran over and could see he was having a seizure. I went into the Inn and had someone call 911. I could see that as he fell he had gotten abrasions from the gravel. I grabbed some latex gloves and napkins and returned outside. By this time the guest was conscious, but he was struggling against all who were trying to help. Finally, the ambulance arrived and took him to the hospital. Someone got a bucket of water and washed the blood off the ground.
Wednesday morning the reading at Mass had been Luke's version of the beatitudes. Unlike Matthew, who says "blessed are the poor in spirit", Luke says, "blessed are the poor." Luke says blessed are the hungry, not "those who hunger and thirst for righteousness," as in Matthew. Fr. Michael related those differences to the people who believe that the Inn is just a bandaid for the poor, and not a way to make any systemic change. I would like to see a system of justice where there were no homeless people, where the addicted and mentally ill were cared for, fed and loved every day. It would be wonderful if the Inn had no guests because there was no need. Until that day, the Inn will be feeding the hungry and helping the poor.

All work and no play.....

2009-09-06T16:03:00.000-04:00

Even though the Inn serves meals 7 days a week, we each have a day off and a prayer day. On Friday-Sunday, the meal is served from 11:30-1pm, so by 2 pm most of the time everything is mopped and put away, and our time is our own. This week we were both off on Wednesday, and we drove to New Jersey to a wildlife refuge near Atlantic City. One thing that is different from NC is that there are charges for the highway and bridges. Since we are on a budget, paying $4.00 to cross a bridge,$3.00 for a highway and $4 to enter a refuge is going to be an infrequent event. We have learned to find alternate routes to places that do not require a tollroad. Unfortunately, there is no way to cross the river without using a bridge!
Saturday we took the subway/El to the Philadelphia Museum of Art around 2 pm. Our membership in the Hickory Museum allows us free admission. I had gotten public transportation directions from the Transit website, but didn't realize there was a station named Spring Garden on the El and one named Spring Garden on the subway. We got off on the wrong one, and ended up walking two miles to the Museum. It was pretty hot and Mark had been on his feet for hours working. Once we got there, it was fabulous--gallery after gallery of our favorite Impressionists. We only had to walk a mile to the correct subway station when we left the museum.
Tomorrow is Labor Day, and since it is a holiday the meal will be served early. After the meal, all of the volunteers and staff that live here are going to a park and have a picnic, followed by games. This meal will be our community meal for the week, and it will be fun to visit a city park.

Franciscan hospitality

2009-09-05T12:08:00.000-04:00

Part of the Franciscan ministry is hospitality, not just to the poor but to anyone that appears at the Inn. When we arrived, our house was clean, there were milk, eggs and bread in the kitchen, and we were invited immediately to share in dinner with the FVMers. It is hard not to want to reach out to others when the opportunity comes. For example, today was my prayer day. When Mark and I were told that we would work 5 days, have one free day and one prayer day, the prayer day seemed the most difficult. So I have started slowly. I had hoped to spend 3 hours praying formally and informally, doing some spiritual reading and journaling. About 2 hours into this a knock came on the door, and Karen asked if it would be okay if a former volunteer and his two children could stay the night with us. If this had happened to me two weeks ago, I would have been in a tizzy. But I just said sure, and proceeded to make up 3 beds, get towels and be thankful I cleaned the bathrooms yesterday! The former volunteer was here is 1989 and is now a doctor, and he was bringing his 9 and 11 year old to help with a meal today. What a great way to teach children about compassion to those who are marginalized by society.
On the other hand, there are times when we are not hospitable. Two nights ago we were going up to bed, and a knock came at the door. I told Mark to check to see who it was, and there were 2 strangers outside. Through the door they asked for a blanket or sheet for the night. Of course,we wanted to help them, but nothing here is ours to give and we were told not to do this. We both felt guilty and unkind,but turned our back on them nevertheless. The next day we checked with others, and were told that was the right course, and that there were beds for them down the street. Regardless, there are times when doing the right thing seems like the wrong thing.

Cooking 101

2009-09-04T08:09:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I (Mark) got the cooking "101" class from Brother Xavier. Together, we were responsible for preparing the evening meal for 300+. The menu was sliced roast beef, boiled potatoes, cut up carrots, and tomatoes & onion, with dessert. My job was cutting up the potatoes and carrots -- ENDLESS supplies of potatoes and carrots. In all, I prepared 120 pounds of potatoes and 25 pounds of carrots. It took 4 hours of continuous chopping -- a physcially demanding task with which I was not familiar. My 30 years of museum work stressed thinking, planning, fundraising, and schmoosing people -- not physical labor. But, somehow being "an indian" versus being in charge was oddly freeing. All I had to do was chop, chop, and chop again. I ended up being very happy as I saw our clients enjoying the food that I had helped prepare. Thea and I are feeling very fulfilled right now.

We are on the Schedule

2009-09-01T20:09:00.001-04:00

We arrived here on Sunday without a single wrong turn. Judy, the long-term volunteer coordinator, met us and gave us a quick tour of the apartment and the storage areas of the Inn. As we were unloading the car, Leo, one of the new Franciscan Volunteer Ministry members(FVM) came by and offered to help us unload. He also invited us to eat with the FVMers at their house, and meet the other volunteers assigned to Camden, NJ and Wilmington, DE.
We quickly took stock of our storage and put everything away. There is a bureau, but no closet, just a few hooks on the back of the door. There is a microwave, and intermittent television on a few channels (the elevated train obscures the signal when it passes.) There is no AC, but a good window fan in the bedroom and ceiling fans in the downstairs room.
We walked down the FVM house, and met the volunteers who will be working with us this year. There are 12 in all, and 4 assigned to the Inn, 2 males and 2 females. We were warmly welcomed, and had a nice time hearing their backgrounds, assignments as well as eating good food.
Monday we were given jobs to do. Mark went along on pickups. The summer intern is leaving Thursday who has been doing that job, so Mark will be doing lots of those in the days ahead. He goes to various bakeries and grocery stores to get donations of food. I was assigned as “troubleshooter” at the Inn, which meant that whatever needed to be done, I tried to do. I helped prepare the meal, answered the door, put salads in cups, washed pots, and got things ready for the evening meal. Mark served during the meal and I kept the tea pitchers filled for the servers. We had 355 guests for dinner. Since all these people eat in 1.5 hours, you can imagine that the turnover at the 12 tables is pretty quick. After the clean up, we had Mass, then a community meal, prepared this week by the friars. Monday is the only day we have Mass in the evening. The rest of the days it is at 8:30 am. I can tell you we returned home after the meal, very tired and ready for a good night’s sleep. Despite there being a lot of street noise, plus the elevated train passes almost over our house, we are able to sleep pretty well if we have the fan on high and our white noise machine turned way up.