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.

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.

Who is at the Door?

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



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



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



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



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



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

How did we get to this point?

A lot of people ask us why we are spending the first 10 months of our retirement working in a soup kitchen in Philadelphia, and how we selected the St. Francis Inn. The answer to the first question is easy. We believe as Catholic Christians that God loves the poor, and asks us to take care of the poor. This task translates to different things for different people. For a number of years we have been talking about taking a year to serve the needy somewhere in the U.S. Family considerations caused us to limit our search to the eastern United States.

We began researching places to work about 2 years ago. At first we just stuck ideas into a file. However, last summer we go serious. I used the Catholic Network of Volunteer Service website

(http://www.cnvs.org/volunteerprograms/workshops.php) to search for organizations that would take married couples over the age of 55 that had housing and that were located east of the Mississippi. We came up with a list of 28 organizations. I made a spreadsheet with all the information I could get about the group, the jobs for volunteers, the locations, the dates to apply, etc. Both of us got a copy, and then we spent a week thinking about the groups and praying that God would show us the places He would want us to go to. We ranked our choices 1-5, then got back together. We were sort of surprised (but not shocked) to see that we had chosen 4 of the same organizations. That's what happens when you've been married 34 years! So then we started to contact the groups. One of the groups was going to stop placements in a year, another only had housing for couples in California and another didn't want to hear from us until January. So we narrowed it down to two groups and visited them both in October and November,2008. Both were great organizations and both had a lot of positives and some negatives. However, we really were attracted to the community at the St. Francis Inn, their mission to serve the poor with dignity, the Franciscan charism of hospitality, and the opportunity to be challenged in our thinking about the poor and homeless. We see these next 10 months as a life-changing experience, mentally and spiritually.

Who are We?

(The contents of this blog are solely my opinions and views and do not necessarily represent the views of the Team and/or volunteers at the St. Francis Inn, Philadelphia)

First of all, let us tell you who we are. Mark,61, is a retired Science Center Director and Thea, 57, is a retired high school science teacher. We just retired this summer. We have been married 35 years, have two married daughters and one grandson. We have lived and worked in Hickory, NC for the past 21 years.

On August 28, we are leaving our home for 10 months and will serve at the St. Francis Inn,(http://www.stfrancisinn.org/) a soup kitchen in the Kensington neighborhood of Philadelphia. We will bring what we can fit in our Kia sedan, and leave our house and dog behind. We have sold one of our cars and given away/thrown out lots of our possessions. We have never lived in a big city before, or lived this far "north." We are going to serve the poor and live and work with people we don't know. We feel open, nervous and excited.