Perspective

Today I am thankful for so much, but the concept that is framing life right now is perspective.

Yesterday our hot water heater broke.  Because our hot water heater broke, though, we went to a neighbor for hot baths and sat down and spent time and conversation with them.  Paul got to play on their piano and I realized that he might just have piano lessons in his future.  Claire got to read a story about Dora the Explorer to the elderly man.  Because our hot water heater broke, Adam and I consulted several friends and had conversations with some we haven't in a while.  Because our hot water heater is broken, tomorrow won't be a day of running around but staying at home and helping Adam replace the darn thing.

Last night the kids and I went to church to help serve dinner (and provide crazy entertainment) to homeless women spending the night at our church.  I was exhausted after a long day working, helping Claire with homework, and doing crisis management with Adam on the hot water heater, but I wanted to make sure we didn't miss this opportunity.  It was like having a family reunion.  "Look how much those kids have grown!  How are they doing in school?"  I didn't garner any new perspectives there other than one lady remembered that a year ago I referred to her as a piece of furniture and she still considers it a compliment.  (Furniture as in comfortable to be with and always around.  I'm a piece of furniture, too, for the record.)

Then we went and looked at Christmas lights on the church bus.  Rev. Nancy had already organized a field trip for the senior adults to do that, but I think we had more homeless ladies on the bus than seniors.  One of our guests was driving everyone nuts.  She was singing Christmas carols off key at the top of her lungs, rolling down the window and shouting Merry Christmas to strangers, and acting as a tour guide for every Christmas light we passed.  "Hey everyone, hey hey, look to your right!  Oooooh!"  "Hey now, look to your left, your left, your left!!!!!!"  I didn't mind it so much because I, too, get excited about Christmas lights, but by the end of our field trip, my enthusiasm was wearing thin.  Then the lady said, "I am so glad we did this.  I haven't been able to do this since I was a little kid."  Boom.  There was the perspective.  No wonder she was acting just like a little kid.  She also thanked me for bringing my children because they reminded her of her son, who died a few years ago.

So today I am thankful for perspective and the moments in life that give it to me.

Ode to Karen and our other homeless friends

This morning I found out one of our homeless friends died on the street on Wednesday night.  Karen was a tall, handsome woman.  She was kind and patient.  She was a good listener and took an interest in others.  She never complained and smiled often.  The last time the kids and I saw her was three weeks ago.  I was talking to another homeless lady and lost track of the kids.  When I found them, they were jumping with glee on Karen's mattress.  I tried to yank them off her bed, but she insisted on letting them play.  She assured me she loved children, in particular Claire and Paul. 

Claire, Paul, and I are very active at Room In the Inn, the homeless ministry at our church.  Every Thursday night during the coldest and hottest nights of the year, our church opens its doors to twelve women without homes.  Homeless shelters are the fullest during these months and while the weather is the most dangerous for sleeping outside, it's also the time when people are turned away because of overcrowding shelters.

Many people work to make sure our guests are comfortable when they stay at our church.  Volunteers assemble toiletry bags, set up mattresses, put tablecloths on tables and prepare meals.  It's a lot of work.  When our church started Room In the Inn, I volunteered for every post that was available.  I wanted to be a part of this important ministry and help out where needed.  It was one of my homeless friends that taught me a lesson about that.  One day I was especially frazzled making sure everything was perfect and she said, "You know, you can just sit down and visit.  You don't have to do it all yourself."  From that day on, I have remembered what Terry said.  I sign up for food if it's needed, but otherwise, the kids and I just show up to visit with our friends.  Sometimes we bring snacks, sometimes we don't.  We always sit and talk.

I have been immeasurably blessed by connecting with these ladies.  I have found so much in common with them; they too worry about money and search for sales.  Most of them are mothers and offer memories of their own children.  They laugh at the kids and permit them to climb in their laps and jump on their mattresses on the floor.  They are the best huggers.  Though they don't have access to a kitchen, they love discussing food and food preparation.  I too, love to cook.

Some days I feel worried or depressed about whatever problem is on my mind.  Talking to a woman that's homeless puts things in perspective for me.  So what if my house is cluttered?  I have one.  So what if I can't keep the laundry caught up?  Everyone in my family has nice clothing and I have a working washer and dryer.  So what if I get tired from running errands?  I have a nice car to take me and money to buy groceries with.  So what if my kids are hyper and driving me crazy after a glass of lemonade?  They live with my husband and I, not across town with someone else.  I don't have the latest fashions, but I have clothing.  I have friends that love me.  I have a home with a heater and a nice bed in a quiet house instead of a giant room with hundreds of people on mats.  I am blessed and I have no right to complain.

The best lessons I learn from my homeless friends are the ones they don't know they are teaching me.  A hug from a friend who hasn't had access to a shower in a week reminds me of my own hot shower.  Requests for simple items like razors or flip flops remind me I never have to ask for what I need.  Compliments on good food remind me to appreciate the food at my house.

Karen, I don't know your story or even  your last name, but my family loved you.  You were a friend to all of us.  May you rest in peace.

Chex Mix

I went to a Bible Study retreat on Saturday, and we all brought snacks. My favorite was Robin Stout's apricots dipped in chocolate. Delicious! I made Chex mix, which was tasty, but nothing compared to apricots dipped in chocolate. So at the end of the day, I had nearly a gallon of Chex Mix left.

I was driving home from church, trying to figure out how I was going to get rid of a gallon of chex, when I saw a homeless man with a sign that said, "Hungry and Broke." I always debate whether or not to give beggars money, but Chex mix isn't money, and I was going to give it away anyway, so I rolled down my window and gave it to him.

This man was so excited! He told me that he knew God had wanted him to bring a backpack that day for a reason. He said he was going to try to sell the backpack, but now he filled it with Chex. He handed me a grubby bookmark and thanked me profusely. Then he told me "God loves you and I love you so much, too." He kept saying that now he wanted to find someone to give him money to buy milk to go with his Chex.

It was awesome, and all it cost me was the loss of a giant container. I think I'm going to start keeping more snack mix in my car.

Super Brownies!

When I make my brownies, humility is not included in the recipe. They are the best brownies you've ever had. I offer my apologies to those who make good brownies, even those who make delicious ones. Mine are better.
My brownies have a layer of chocolate candy in them. They are so tasty that whenever I make a batch, strangely, the entire pan never makes it to the destination.
That was the case yesterday when I made a batch of brownies to serve the homeless ladies who were spending the night at our church. Claire and I wanted to offer our best, so we taste-tested them before we took them to church. Our friend Robyn wasn't satisfied that I had properly tested them, so when she cut them and put them on the serving tray, she too, had to try them out.
I don't have much experience dealing directly with homeless people. I've seen homeless folks, even talked to a few, but there's always been something separating me from them like my car or a serving line.
Yesterday I brought my brownies and my kids to church and it was a tie as to which made the ladies happier. Claire was ecstatic at having an audience and flailed around the room laughing and jumping on their beds. (I kept trying to get her to stop that, but something about a mattress just makes kids want to jump!) Paul toddled around the room hijacking food and chasing me.
Having the kids there was stressful. I was in charge of coordinating all the volunteers last night and had a hard time concentrating because of a constant worry that Paul would crawl down the stairs (two attempts) or that Claire would run away (lost count on that one.)
Having kids there was right. Kids are universal. No matter if you are rich or poor, everyone loves cute kids. And as luck would have it, my kids are cute. Claire and Paul offered a common topic of conversation that didn't involve any class divisions. They are also entertaining in their rambunctiousness. Several of the ladies labeled Claire and/or Paul as their "friend" and tried to keep them. One lady asked if Claire could spend the night.
So I'm glad I brought Claire and Paul, and I'm glad I brought brownies. I overheard one lady mentioning she was used to eating stale food. They all loved the brownies and asked if they were having them again for breakfast. I told them no, but found some baggies and gave each one of them an extra brownie in a bag. Some of them hid those under the table and I saw at least two ladies take their brownie bag to the bathroom, unwilling to part with it even for a minute.
I'm not claiming to have changed any lives, but I think I helped offer a little bit of happiness with my kids and my brownies. And if my momentary stress offers someone a distraction from their problems, it's worth it to me.