Christmas Dancing at Day Program

During today's Monday morning volunteer stint at L'Arche Edmonton's Day Program, I found myself working with a few others, tying special L'Arche Christmas cards into packets of five and curling the ribbon ends ahead of next week's Christmas Pageant and Craft Sale. We chatted as we worked, and Christmas carols played from a computer tablet.

It was a very relaxed atmosphere, with people coming and going from Art Therapy or visits down the hallways. Sandy was sorting her cards, as usual, Thomas was informing us about when some of our friends and colleagues would be arriving after meetings outside of the building, and Darren was making colourful pictures in his usual place*.

But it was Leanne who caught my attention. She was sitting by herself, humming along to the Christmas music -- until Boney M's Mary's Boychild began to play. Then she was up on her feet, dancing her heart out. Jingle Bells followed, and I stopped my ribbon curling activities and danced with her, absorbed by her single-minded devotion to moving her body to the beat. It was a moment of pure and simple happiness.

I wish all my readers some pure-and-simple-happiness-moments in the days and weeks ahead!

And here's another happiness moment -- if you're in the Edmonton area, please join us at Eglise St. Thomas D'Aquin (8410 89 Street) next Monday, December 18th at 7 p.m. for the Annual L'Arche Edmonton Christmas Pageant (and Craft Sale). All are welcome!

* I use pseudonyms for the names of my L'Arche friends.

When too many yeses equal no

You could say I'm feeling pressured these days, and it's my own fault. As someone who works on a very part-time basis most of the time, it's only too easy to feel guilty when I'm not bringing home much of a pay cheque. That's when I agree to doing too many other more voluntary kinds of things. I have the time, right? I'm so blessed in that regard.

But even I have a limit. With ten musical commitments between now and Easter, one of them as musician for a week long retreat in Montreal the week before Holy Week, I hit my limit yesterday. When I was asked to lead the music for the L'Arche community's Seder Meal, I think I shocked the Community Life Coordinator by saying no. She rephrased the question and tried again, and again I said no. It took her a few minutes to understand my no, and then she did not look very happy -- I suspect it might have something to do with the fact that I've never said no to her before (plus it means she still has to find someone to say yes).

As much as I would love to help, I just can't see my way to adding one more musical commitment to a pile of other ones: two this weekend, two more next weekend, the week in Montreal (I need time to learn some French songs for that one!), two rehearsals for Easter, two Good Friday events, and Easter Vigil. And that's just the musical commitments. There's also a greenhouse calling my name, appointments to make and keep, friends who are being neglected, and other life events (and family) to which I should attend.

No is the only way to go at this point. And it actually felt good to say it yesterday. Looking at all these yeses I've been saying, I suspect I should say no more often!

How about you?

Simple Suggestion #111 revisited... Become a Master Composter/Recycler

It's that time again -- time to sing praises of a wonderful City of Edmonton program that turns ordinary, earth-conscious Edmontonians into uber-cool volunteers who know almost everything there is to know about composting and recycling in our city. I'm speaking of the City of Edmonton's Master Composter/Recycler Program. I took the course in 2007, and continue to be inspired and encouraged in my efforts to live with a smaller ecological footprint by a wonderful community of like-minded folks who have also participated. I can't speak highly enough of the program and the people involved in it.

I can also honestly say that the 35 hours I spent at the course itself were some of the best I've spent in class ever. I learned a lot about reducing waste and replenishing soil, met some amazing people, and brought home all sorts of great ideas for my home, yard, and garden -- ideas that have improved my life, and the health of our planet. I feel confident in my composting efforts, my garden has thrived, and I've had a lot of fun helping others to learn about composting and recycling in my own back yard and as a volunteer at different city events. Not only that, but our Master Composter/Recycler community shares a lot of interesting info on Facebook, and has some pretty great socials now and then!

If joining the ranks of a pretty great squad of Master Composter/Recyclers sounds appealing to you, please consider taking Edmonton's New and Improved Master Composter/Recycler course. Tell them Maria K. sent you!

Here's the link to the application page: www.edmonton.ca/mcrp. NOTE: The deadline for applications is February 7, 2013.

And if you don't live in the Edmonton area, there are Master Composter/Recycler programs popping up in other places, too -- like Vancouver, Spokane and Seattle WA, The University of Rhode Island, Hennepin County, Minnesota, Schenectady and Westchester Counties in NY, the University of Idaho, and the list goes on. It's great to see other MCR courses coming online -- makes me feel like there's increasing hope for our planet's good health. Why not join the movement if you can? Or start your own...

P.S. Looking for more Simple Suggestions? Try here.

A Sunday tour of St. Vincent de Paul's place

My head still spins in places where there's a lot of visual stimulation, so it's been six months since my last Thursday volunteering stint in the Clothing Room. But last week, I decided to bite the bullet and take my dizzy self back to the Society of St. Vincent de Paul's Distribution Centre for the day. My mom has kept me up to date on my favourite homeless friends and some friend volunteers, but enough was enough, already. I wanted to see them all for myself, so Thursday I decided to give it a go. 

It was good to be back... and returning after being away for six months only underlined what an amazing place it is. Run entirely by volunteers, it helps a lot of our less fortunate brothers and sisters by supplying them with the basics -- clothing, bedding, housewares, and even food. I took my camera along with me so I could give you a tour of the place.

If you've ever noticed the little chapel on the corner near St. Joseph's High School 

on 109th Street and wondered if it's in use, I can assure you that it is.

This sign goes out, Monday to Friday, welcoming people 

to the Clothing Room, where they can get 

donated clothing for free.

In the chapel's foyer is the Clothing Room.

Seasonal jackets and boots to the right, fairly well stocked at the moment.

There are just two aisles like this one, so you can imagine 

how crowded it can get when lots of people show up at the same time
(our record is 42 clients plus some spouses and a child or five in two hours).

This is the ladies and children's section. 

I didn't get a good picture of the "men's department."

The baby items are right beside the registration desk. 

We ask our clients to register so we can be sure that they don't 

come more than once a month... but I like the registration process 

simply because it allows me to call people by name. 

Homeless visitors get special consideration and 

can come more frequently if they need to,
as most of them don't abuse the privilege.

To the left of the desk we have purses, shoes, books and school supplies. 

That's a box of shirts I unpacked, which came from 

behind the bookshelves, where you'll find...

our sorting room. The black garbage bags piled to the ceiling are this 

week's donations from a couple of clothing drives.
We work our way through them, hanging 

the items our clients need, and sharing the ones they don't 

with the Marian Centre and other agencies that can make use of them.

The clothing room is under the choir loft in the chapel. 

The rest of the Distribution Centre is in the nave.

Here's what you see from the choir loft!

The choir loft itself is crammed with all sorts of different things.

I see we've been busy collecting fans for apartment dwelling

clients in the hot summer months. And below is our toy department.

The rest of the Distribution Centre stores household needs like...

beds and bedding,

housewares,

furniture (not much available at the moment),

and small appliances that are carefully tested by volunteers. 

Everything that comes into the place is checked over and deemed 

worthy before being packed up and delivered to clients who have been

visited by a pair of volunteers in order to determine what is needed.

Below are some orders waiting to go out.

And here's the food bank for those times when even hampers from the

official City Food Bank don't stretch quite far enough...

SSVP is an amazing organization. Returning to the Distribution Centre made me so happy. It's a place of which I'm very proud... can you tell? We volunteers make lots of jokes about getting paid double for what we do some days, but honestly, I think we get more than our money's worth in the clients we meet and the joy we receive from them. And the planet benefits too, because we're saving good stuff from the landfill, and giving it to people who need it. Everyone wins. So if you're looking for a great cause to give some of your time, talent and treasure, consider volunteering and donating to the Society of St. Vincent de Paul. And keep in mind that it's not just a Catholic thing... everyone who cares about our less fortunate brothers and sisters is welcome anytime. If there's no SSVP near you, there are probably other agencies/groups that would be glad of your assistance!

The folks who volunteer at SSVP take the words of Isaiah seriously:

If you remove the yoke from among you,
the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil,
if you offer food to the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the afflicted,
then your light shall rise in the darkness
and your gloom will be like the noonday.
The Lord will guide you continually,
and satisfy your needs in parched places
and make your bones strong;
and you shall be like a watered garden,
like a spring of water
whose waters never fail.
Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt;
you shall raise up the foundations of many nations,
you shall be called the repairer of broken walls,
the restorer of streets to live in.

Till the day was done, I was pretty dizzy, but I was very glad to be back. SSVP is in my soul permanently now, and a wee exchange I had with a homeless fellow reminded me why I like being there so much, even in my dizziness. I asked Walter how he was doing when he came in, and he said, "I woke up with a heartbeat, so I'm pretty good."

Me too! We have so much for which to be grateful!

Simple Suggestion #111... Become a Master Composter/Recycler

Unfortunately, this suggestion applies only to people who live in my area. I've never heard of any other place that offers a course like this, though there are Master Gardener and Master of Permaculture courses out there. If you know of any in your area and want to share information, I'd be happy to post it!

Anyway, I've been planning to promote a wonderful program for a while... and today I got an email reminding me to do so because the application deadline is coming up. So, here goes...

This spring will mark my fifth anniversary as a City of Edmonton Master Composter/Recycler, and I can honestly say that the 35 hours I spent at the course were some of the best I've spent in class ever. I learned a lot, met some amazing people, and brought home all sorts of great ideas for my home, yard and garden, ideas that have improved my life, and the health of the planet, too! I feel confident in my composting efforts, my garden has thrived because of that, and I've had a lot of fun helping others to learn about composting and recycling in my own back yard and as a volunteer at city events. There's so much more to being an MC/R than what they've listed below, because what you learn can take you so many interesting places! I've also met a lot of great people during my hundred plus hours of volunteering.

If this sounds appealing to you, check out the information below, and consider taking the course. Tell them Maria K. sent you! And if you live too far away, there's lots of composting and recycling ideas on the internet, or at your local library...

Set a positive environmental example in your neighbourhood.

Would you like to help reduce the waste produced in Edmonton? Join other green-minded citizens for a 40 hour course in residential composting, recycling, and hazardous waste management. In return, take what you learn back to your community where you'll be a Master Composter/Recycler Volunteer.

A few examples of volunteer activities:

• Teach composting to kids and adults.
• Represent Waste Management Services at tradeshows and community events.
• Write articles for community newsletters.

For more information and to apply online at www.edmonton.ca/mcrp


P.S. Looking for more Simple Suggestions? Try here.

St. Vincent de Paul and the mystery of the missing radios

Yesterday was the "heavenly birthday" of one of my favourite saints, St. Vincent de Paul. What's not to love about a guy who was captured by pirates and lived to tell the tale? He also lived to the ripe old age of 79, wrote thousands of letters, looked after the poor of Paris, and started numerous schools and orphanages during and after the thirty year's war in France. Legend has it that he subbed in for a galley slave (you remember, the guys chained to the oars in movies like Ben Hur?) so he could go home and visit his family for a few days. He's also the man responsible for the Society of St. Vincent de Paul, with which I volunteer every Thursday that I'm able.

Last night there was a special gathering of volunteers to celebrate the feast day of St. Vincent, and I was "commissioned" to continue in my work in the Clothing Room, after having worked there for at least four years. I've lost track of how long I've been sorting clothes and chatting with our clients, but it has been an education for middle-class me. The most important thing I've learned is something that the Archbishop touched on in his sermon last night -- that people need to be seen, recognized and appreciated for who they are. And when we take time to see, recognize and appreciate the poor, a small but priceless bond is formed that is hard to explain unless you've experienced it. All I can say is that the poor I meet at the Clothing Room have given me far more than I've ever given them.

I appreciate my time at the Clothing Room because it is full of humour and camaraderie. Whether it's the volunteers I'm working with, or the groups of homeless guys who bring their friends to visit, there's a lot of hope and joy even as people are going through hard times. We all do what we can to help each other, whether it's handing out dry socks or a few words of encouragement... or puzzling over the case of the missing radio.

Last week at the Clothing Room, I went to turn on our background music, and the radio wasn't there. I had to chuckle. It's not the first time this has happened; our radios seem to go missing on a regular basis. Not that they are special, desirable or valuable -- we get them from SSVP's small appliance department so that we have music to listen to as we sort clothing. We usually pick the oldest or ugliest one that has been donated to make it less of a target.

What was funny was that this time, the radio was really ugly, it didn't have very good sound, and it had been attached to the counter it was sitting on with cable that had been nailed down, where it had stayed for over a month. It was such a sad-looking thing that I thought we had finally found one that no one could possibly be induced to steal.

I was wrong. How or when it vanished, or on whose watch, no one can guess. My writer's mind would love to tell the stories of the people/person who manages to lift a radio in the middle of room full of "free shoppers." Do they create a diversion and sneak it away when we're otherwise involved? Do they need the radio, or are they just pulling one over on us? What do they do with the radio? Do they realize that we would give them one for free if they just asked? It would almost be interesting to install a little spy cam to track our radios, but really, they're not that important, just a curious mystery.

So, we asked Emile, who has been managing the Distribution Centre lately, for another radio. Our new one is a cheap plastic clock radio, and this time, determined that it will stay put, our friend Emile not only nailed it down, but also affixed it to the counter with a LOT of cellophane packing tape. If someone wants to steal it now, they'll end up with a cheap plastic STICKY radio.

I suspect, however, that stickiness won't put off a thief. This month's Reader's Digest carries an article about shoplifters, and about how many of them have a disorder which is much like an addiction. They become addicted to the adrenaline rush of stealing -- a common characteristic among people with the impulse control disorder known as kleptomania. So whoever gets our latest radio will get a real rush through foiling wire, nails, tape, a bunch of busy volunteers, and Emile. I wonder how long until this radio disappears? Not that it matters. What matters is that the Society of St. Vincent de Paul is alive and well, and is sharing donated radios and other things, just as St. Vincent himself would have were he with us now.

#49... Volunteer

Pick a cause, any cause! Because...

It's just too easy to get caught up in our own little lives and forget that there are many people and situations that could use a few spare hours of our time. A few friends of mine work with the Big Brother/Big Sister organization as mentors for children of single parents. My neighbour is a faithful canvasser for the Canadian Heart and Stroke Foundation. One couple I know is quite involved with Development and Peace, which I've moodled about in the past. A girlfriend donates blood on a regular basis, and often reminds her friends to do the same. Another friend who retired quite a few years back has offered English language lessons to some of our assistants in L'Arche Edmonton. And we have ten L'Arche board members who give generously of their time to our community.

Churches, schools, and social agencies, seniors' homes, hospitals and other organizations that aren't jumping into my mind at the moment will rarely turn away volunteers. I know this is nothing new, but I thought I'd include volunteerism in my Simple Suggestions because I believe that part of living simply and happily is making sure that there is time and space in our lives to offer our talents and energies in the service of others.

P.S. Looking for more Simple Suggestions? Try here.

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.

Lessons from a man who was captured by pirates

My role as a volunteer for the Society of St. Vincent de Paul led me in a new direction last week. A grade six class invited me to speak to them about the Society and what we do. One of our volunteer coordinators supplied me with a lesson plan focussing on the Society's work with the poor, but unfortunately there was little reference to St. Vincent himself or how the Society began. I decided to do a bit of research, and found a story too good to keep to myself.

I've always been a sucker for saint stories. When I was a child, my parents bought us four little square books filled with the lives of the saints, and I read them over and over. The people in their pages were so strange, and so heroic! I don't remember reading about St. Vincent de Paul in those little books, but he was probably there. After all, anyone who survives being captured by pirates definitely belongs in saintlore!

Vincent de Paul was born in France in 1581, to a middle class farm family near Paris, and was ordained a Catholic priest in 1600. In 1605, while he was sailing along the coast of France in order to collect an inheritance, the ship on which he was travelling was captured by Turkish pirates. Of course, Captain Jack Sparrow of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies wouldn't last a minute next to the pirates of Vincent's era. They killed everyone who wouldn't provide them a fine ransom or fetch a good price when sold as a slave.

Vincent, being young and strong, was taken to be a slave in Tunisia. After six years of hard labour under different owners, his singing in the fields captured the attention of his new master's wife, and her interest in Vincent created the opportunity he needed to convert his French master back to the Christian faith he had abandoned. The two eventually escaped back to France.

I strongly suspect that had Vincent collected his inheritance without incident, we never would have heard of him at all. However, when he returned to France, his experiences as a slave opened his eyes to the plight of the poor, and he used every opportunity to bring the needs of the oppressed before France's wealthy elite. The rest of his life was spent ministering to the poor and building hospitals, orphanages, schools and housing for them. He took a special interest in galley slaves, insisting that they be fed more than black bread and water and be treated more humanely. He started seminaries and convents to train those who were attracted to his mission of serving the poor, and he wrote over 13,000 letters of appeal and spiritual encouragement. After reading everything that Vincent did, I find it hard to imagine that he ever slept! During the Thirty Years' War (1618-1648) that devastated so much of Europe, he was Paris' Mother Theresa, rescuing people from the gutters. Hardly an ordinary middle class citizen.

Yet it's so darn easy to be an ordinary middle class citizen if you've never known anything else. My needs and those of my family are met, we have good health, a warm home, plentiful food, and enough work that we can provide for ourselves. It's easy, in a middle class world, to close our eyes and believe that poverty doesn't exist, that no one falls through the cracks, that injustice has no home in our wealthy oil-rich province. But it's only a matter of opening them to see the illusion break apart. Homeless people warm themselves in the malls. Immigrants clean our office towers late into the night. The un- and under-employed keep the Food Bank hopping. Those with chronic illness or mental health issues, and people who have simply made poor choices, perhaps because they were never taught how to make good ones, fall through the cracks at regular intervals. We often hear of their "crimes" on the nightly news.

But is it a crime to be sick? To be uneducated? To have to flee a country where civil war threatens life? To have a disability? To be a misfit? Vincent de Paul understood first-hand how simple misfortune can change a life, and 350 years after his death, he has provided us with the inspiration and opportunity to follow in his footsteps. One of his disciples, Frederic Ozanam, started the Society of St. Vincent de Paul in 1833 during a cholera epidemic... but that's another moodling for another day. There's no shortage of inspirational stories when it comes to the Society, and I suppose many middle class people like me could be examples, too.

I used to be one of those people who was scared of the poor. If a panhandler came up to me on the street, I felt afraid. I suspect my fear was because I might be inadequate in my response. Perhaps it grew out of a sense of guilt that I lived a comfortable middle class life while some of these guys were dumpster diving in my back alley.

As a friend of mine likes to say, "Guilt is only good for about ten seconds. Then you have to do something with it." Volunteering with the Society of St. Vincent de Paul is a definite antidote to guilt... and fear. It has brought me into regular contact with those I once avoided out of discomfort. I used to be afraid that the poor would ask more of me than I am able to give, but I've since learned that, with the help of the Society, I have an unending supply of what our inner city folks most need: respect, compassion, and the ability to help them find solutions, at least for one day, sometimes for more. My work at the clothing room has given me a strong desire to live simply, sustainably, and in solidarity with the poor. I've learned that abundance is meant to be shared, not hoarded. I've learned that fear and guilt can only be overcome by action, by stretching myself. And I've learned that every person deserves attention and compassion because God loves us equally, no matter our status in the world's eyes.

That's quite a load of good lessons from a man who was captured by pirates!

The forgiveness of the poor

You will find out that Charity is a heavy burden to carry, heavier than the kettle of soup and the full basket. But you will keep your gentleness and your smile.  It is not enough to give soup and bread. This the rich can do. You are the servant of the poor, always smiling and good-humored. They are your masters, terribly sensitive and exacting masters, you will see, and the uglier and the dirtier they will be, the more unjust and insulting, the more love you must give them. It is only for your love alone that the poor will forgive you the bread you give to them.

These words are attributed to St. Vincent de Paul, a man who spent his life serving the poor. I'm one of his unofficial disciples one day a week. I help out in the clothing room at the Distribution Centre of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul (SSVP) on Thursdays, sorting clothes, signing in "shoppers," and offering assistance to those who come to look for free clothing.

The Society of St. Vincent de Paul has been operating in Edmonton for about ten years. Comprised of a group of volunteers coming mainly from conferences operating out of different Catholic parishes across the city, the Society’s priority is to assist those living below the poverty line by providing basic necessities for life. People in need can call the Society’s hotline, and volunteers pay a visit to determine what is required by the individual or family. Furniture, appliances, food and clothing are gathered from donations received at the Distribution Centre, and are delivered to people who require assistance. Because clothing is usually an issue of personal preference, the 500 sq ft clothing room operates Monday to Saturday from ten to noon.

Life in the clothing room never fails to be interesting. All different kinds of people come in to "shop without paying," everyone from homeless Dave, who tells me he sleeps in the bushes somewhere in the river valley, to a few well-dressed women from Sherwood Park who heard there was “free shopping” and came to see if they could pick up some toys or games for their grandchildren for nothing (we tried to explain to them that our mission is to help the truly needy, but they wouldn't listen, they were so focused on the "bargains!") We meet a lot of immigrants who are experiencing their first winter in Canada and need warm clothing. One family from Mexico had to be encouraged to only take one winter coat per person – they were under the impression that once winter arrived, they would need several heavy layers each.

Often, people who come to the clothing room are looking for specific items. Ted, another homeless fellow, came to me one day asking for a pair of men’s jeans, size 34. To say that he was grateful when I managed to find him a pair is an understatement. There was a young woman looking at baby clothes at the opposite end of the room, but Ted said, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll put these on right now.” He hid behind a clothing rack and emerged a minute later, emptying stubby cigarettes from the pockets of his old jeans as he handed them to me. “If you give these a wash,” he said, “someone else might like them.” As I folded them over my arm to take them to the laundry bin, thirty-nine cents in change jingled to the floor. I picked it up to give it back to Ted, and he took it and slipped it into our donations box. “For the poor,” he said.

Tanya came in once, telling me how she had been evicted from her apartment because she had fallen ill and couldn’t work to pay rent. Just recovering from surgery, she needed new clothing so she could get back to her catering job. We found several black pants and white tops, and she took two pairs of flat shoes, saying, “I hope these don’t give me blisters.”

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. Dave, the river valley homeless fellow mentioned earlier, often comes in at least once a week in the winter asking for gloves or mitts. We don’t know whether he loses them, sells them, or gives them to his drinking buddies, and we’ll never know unless he tells us, as we don’t want to be so nosey that he feels unwelcome.

Clients who come to the clothing room are asked to register, which means having a file card made up with their name, address and phone number if applicable, and the day’s date, so we can try to ensure that they don’t come in more than once every thirty days. For the homeless, we make exceptions to the 30-day rule, understanding that they have nowhere to wash clothing, but other, better-dressed customers who come in before their 30 days have passed are asked to return later so that everyone has fair access. The registration card system has its difficulties: we have caught a client or two abusing the system by posing as someone else. Today we wondered how many cards Chris has in our file. He gave me a name that I couldn't find, so I made him a new card. It took another volunteer whispering in my ear to make me realize I had made a card for him once before. Either he was taking advantage of my ignorance and hoping I wouldn't recognize him or he has a personality disorder, we half-joked at lunch. Generally, though, the people who come in are honest, and grateful for the service we provide.

At times, though, we wonder whether we are doing the right thing. Should people be given something for nothing? Are we creating another dependency? A parish priest in the inner city suggests that we should be charging a minimal fee for each item that goes out our door, but that would prove a bit of a nightmare for two volunteers faced with thirty customers who each have twenty or more items stuffed into bags, all heading out the doors of our tiny space within minutes of each other. My thought on the matter is that our storage space is often filled to the rafters with so many bags of donated clothing (a sign of Alberta's affluenza, which is a huge issue in itself!), so who are we to withhold abundance from those who need it? Christ favoured the poor throughout his ministry and did not judge them, and we try our best to follow his way... but still...

There are three things that keep me volunteering every week. The first is that the poverty line is a fine one. The family breadwinner could lose his job, a family member could fall sick, mental illness could strike, and it could be me or someone I know coming to the clothing room for assistance, or calling SSVP for help to furnish a new apartment when it’s discovered that the old one is infested with bedbugs, which are on the rise in Edmonton these days.

The second thing is the smiles and stories that our clients sometimes share. When the Kenyan woman (who seemed to have three different identities until her English improved enough for me to understand her) tells me about her life, I am more aware of our blessings in Canada, and our need to do more to help our brothers and sisters who are new immigrants.  When the homeless guys come in to kibbitz and get yet another pair of gloves or a dry pair of socks, they're sure to leave smiles behind them.

And the third thing has to do with what Vincent de Paul says in the quote above. As an affluent person with a roof over my head and more clothing and food than necessary in my closets and cupboards, I need the forgiveness of my inner-city brothers and sisters. I feel powerless and helpless to make things better for them a lot of the time. But sometimes, quite rarely, in a moment of shared humanity, I feel their forgiveness. It seems to come with their smiles.