Spring in New York City

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

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?

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

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?

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

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

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

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.