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.
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