Final Blog plus One!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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)

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?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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."

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?

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

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.