Clothing room update -- another great reuse centre

The clothing room at the Distribution Centre for the Society of St. Vincent de Paul (the small chapel on the corner of 108th Avenue and 109th Street, just outside St. Joe's High School) has gone through a major upgrade since I was last there in February. Over the last 8 months my mom kept me up to date on my favourite folks who come to the Centre, and on the SSVP's reno plans and progress. Yesterday, for the first time since Shadow-puppy joined our family, I went to volunteer (after taking him for a long walk) and to see the "new" place.

Here's a view of the tiny bit of floor space where clothing for men, women and children used to be displayed:

(You can't see the second crowded aisle on the other side of the housecoats...)

And below, the cramped room where volunteers unpacked donated clothing.

Over the last several months, furniture and large items were moved to another building to facilitate the reorganization and renos, and some generous people donated a hefty sum that was used to brighten the entire space, rearrange the different "departments" somewhat, and enlarge the clothing area. Old walls were removed and new walls added, different sections were moved around (I'm not sure where the repair workstation went -- forgot to ask) and the whole place received a fresh coat of paint and new lighting.

The renovations are a vast improvement.The new and improved Terry Mahon Clothing Room (named for the son/brother of our generous donors) feels four times the size of the old space, which has now been transformed -- the small space where shoppers had to climb over each other to get clothing items for men, women and children is only one of three larger "shopping" areas. The old space is now just the women's section...

Look at those nice wide aisles!

A well-lit, full-sized men's section fills the space where 

walls and shelving units once were (back then, the men's "department" 

-- though you could hardly call two shelves and two racks a department -- 

had been squished against one wall and into a dark corner of the old space):

I love the bright new area where kids and babies clothing, books 

and toys are displayed... there's even a live plant! 

The ceiling is high, making the air circulation much better 

than it used to be... and the lighting is vastly improved!

We also have room to move as volunteers, 

with a long high table for unpacking donations 

and lots of shelving with bins for storing extra items 

so that we don't run short of things so often.

The City of Edmonton has an excellent Reuse Centre, but this non-city-affiliated one is my hands-down favourite, mainly because of all the people with "hearts for the poor" who work here, and all our homeless friends who visit. Saving stuff from the landfill isn't as important to us as helping people in need, but I'm sure the City's Waste Management Services would be impressed with our efforts to reuse, recycle, and reduce the stuff that goes to the landfill! 

Thanks to the Mahon family for their generosity, and congratulations to Daryl D. and all the volunteers who renovated and reorganized this place to better serve our brothers and sisters in need, especially Louise and my mom, who put things in their proper places. 

"Well done, good and faithful servants!" 

A prayer to start our day at the Clothing Room

Today is my day at the Society of St. Vincent de Paul Clothing Room. For various reasons, I missed a month of my Thursdays there, and going back last week felt like a homecoming. I forgot how much I love kibbitzing with the homeless guys until we were kibbitzing. And, a new thing: our little group of volunteers started the day with a beautiful prayer. I couldn't see through the tears in my eyes by the time we got to the end of it:

Lord Jesus, You promised that whatever we do for the least of your brothers & sisters, we do it for You. You promised that whenever we reach out to the poor and needy, to the hungry, the imprisoned, the unwanted, the misunderstood, or the lonely, we meet You.

Lord Jesus, Your humility amazes me. Rather than coming to us in great displays of power & might, you choose to show us Your face in the poor, the sick, and the outcast.  Open my eyes to see You. Help me to recognise your presence in every person in need, whether it’s the people coming for help, or the friends I work with. Give me the courage to step out of my comfort zone, and to be the person You need me to be in every situation I may face today.

Lord, today help me to be Your hands & feet, Your compassion & joy. I want to become like You! 


Amen.

And this morning, the scriptures align -- my morning meditation is the reading from Matthew 25:

Then the King will say to those at his right hand, "Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me."

Amazing how that works, isn't it?

4:30 p.m. It was an interesting day at the Clothing Room. I didn't think we'd have very many people as Edmonton is experiencing an April snowstorm that blew snow into my face as I walked from where I parked two blocks away from the centre. If I couldn't find parking, how many others wouldn't bother to come? But Don and Ryan, a pair of homeless brothers, showed up for the second week in a row, snow thick in their hair. I told Ryan I wanted to brush the wet clods of snow out of his hair, so he stood still and let me do it before picking up a hoodie so he wouldn't have to repeat the process later on.


We had fun with "name that odd object." A black, curved wire stand of some sort was found in the odds and ends box, and I took it around the Distribution Centre to see if anyone could figure it out. No one did, and now I'm wishing I'd brought it home, taken a picture, and played "name that odd object" online. Someone must have a website where you can send pictures of odd objects.


Four young Muslim girls came in, and were delighted to leave with four beautiful stuffed animals as well as some clothing. And just before we closed at noon, two Ethiopian boys came looking for swimming trunks. Their English wasn't great, but their smiles certainly were. They each found one t-shirt, and thanked me politely before they left.


Denis came in, asking in French if it would be alright if he "shopped." I suprised him and myself by responding in French, and he seemed genuinely happy that I did, even though his English is excellent.


And a bit of a mystery was partially solved today. In September I moodled about it:

Then there are the four sisters. They seem to alternate their visits, coming in pairs every two weeks, going through our racks and picking out the high quality ladies wear, mostly. They have each registered with four or more children, and we wonder: are they supplying their families and running their own clothing shop on the side, or are they outfitting friends and neighbours as well? Perhaps they don’t have access to laundry facilities? Their English isn’t good enough for us to know.

Today I decided to approach one of the sisters and ask her why she takes so much clothing so often. Her eyes filled with tears as she haltingly told me about her brother, who lives in the mountains in Cambodia. "No food, no clothes, my brother and his family. I take clothes to send." It doesn't help me to understand why they go for the high end women's clothing, but it makes me less inclined to fret when they take more than I think they should. I really don't know the full situation.

It was an interesting day, a good day. Any day that I understand people a little better might even be rated excellent. I don't think I need to wait until the King decides whether I'm a sheep or a goat. I'm already blessed just to know the people I met today.

Family reunion at the clothing room

This morning, Patrick arrived at the clothing room staggering drunk, with a swollen black eye. I didn't recognize him at first. He stood and looked at me for a while, seemingly trying to focus his eyes and form words. Thinking he might need some assistance, I went to him and touched his arm, asking if there was anything I could help him with.

Wrong move. "Back off," he said. So I went back around my work desk and continued to sort donated clothes, afraid that he might teeter over and bang his other eye on the corner of the desk.

A woman who had brought her two daughters to get clothing for their kids was sitting in the chair across from where I was working. Patrick's swollen eye didn't prevent her from knowing who he was. "Patrick, Bro, what happened to your face?" she asked gently.

"Ah, Sis," he said, "three guys beat me up. I just want to go back to camp and go to sleep. It's been a rough day at the office."

The next thing I knew, the woman was introducing her daughters to Patrick as he stood swaying on his feet, and the girls seemed to know him. That's when I realized that they might be related, but then again, maybe not. The older daughter offered Patrick a cigarette, and the younger one gave him a hug that brought tears to his eyes (and mine).

With those kindnesses, Patrick's defenses crumpled. He turned to me and was able to ask for blankets, socks and a pair of gloves. I managed to find them for him and put them into a bag he could carry. "Thanks, Sis," he said, having long since forgotten his initial annoyance with me.

It has struck me more than once that in the clothing room we're all brothers and sisters -- like we should be everywhere in life.