Thirty-five empty brown bags sat on
the rectangular oak table. From cardboard boxes and plastic bags of
food stuffs donated by the Good Bank and the Food Outlet store, we
built lunches for 35 homeless people or destitute families in our
community. The project has been in place for years, and the number of
people served is growing.
The preparers of the Saturday Lunch
Program rotate each week between churches, scout troupes, and service
organizations. I volunteer through the Emandal Peace Choir.
Making and serving sandwiches with
other items, however, only addresses the tip of the iceberg of this
problem.
Now that I live downtown and walk when
I can to complete my errands, I am seeing more about the challenges
of being homeless. Driving the car gives me no time to become aware
of the hole in the fence around the broken-down house or the crawl
space between the bushes near the creek. I am becoming more aware of
the the hidey holes where many live and their habits during the rain
or in the cold. R\Their reality is not pretty.
A taste of what being cold means came
to me this week with the failure of my wall heater to respond to the
thermostat in the hall. It wouldn't come on and there was nothing I
could do about it. The PG&E man came and shut it down because he
couldn't figure out why the safety switch would not stop shutting
down the unit. He had some theories, but he could only follow the
company line and tell me that my landlady needed to get someone to
run tests, replace something, or even replace the unit. Hopefully I
will have a new heater on Friday.
This means five days without my usual
method of heat. If I had been on my land, I could have started a fire
in the wood stove. Instead, I have three heaters going. I am lucky. I
have a pile of blankets for the bed, and four walls to protect me
from the wind, and a roof shielding me from the fog and rain. I am
more than lucky to have an oven to turn on, two pairs of socks for my
feet, plus several layers of clothes.
Last Saturday, I thought I was doing a
wondrous thing, making these peanut butter sandwiches with friends.
Don't you know I congratulated myself on doing my part. But in the
same reality within which the homeless and destitute survive, I did
very little. For, some that bag containing a bottle of water, a
packaged snack, a processed food bar, one piece of fruit, and a
peanut butter sandwich was all some had for food for the weekend. The
daily soup kitchen only serves during the week and then only one meal
a day.
Knowing how or why each person needing
these services got to this state of affairs in their life is
unessential. What becomes important to me follows three tracks of
thought toward action:
- What needs to change in our society to prevent this from happening on an ever-widening scale?
- What local resources can I support to assist those in need in my community?
- What can I offer in the spirit of assistance while making sure I maintain a cheerful attitude of gratitude for all I have?
