There But For The Grace Of God
Posted: Saturday, June 02, 2007
by Judi Lake
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It was 5:30 am, a truly ungodly hour, and time to get up. Today, my brother and I were leaving for Kensington, Philadelphia to volunteer at the St. Francis Soup Kitchen.
Neither of us a morning person, drank our coffee in silence. Russell read the newspaper while I silently anticipated what the next two weeks would entail.
In my mind, I was also mulling over the last few weeks.
“Fr. Bob, I’ve made my decision, and I am going. These people need us and I need to go. Just give me your blessing, please."
“You are indeed a very stubborn girl but one with courage and determination. Come here and I will pray over you. God be with you and Judi… please be careful!"
“Yes, Fr. Bob, I will and thanks!"
Fr. Bob was my Spiritual Director and, to this day, we stay in touch. When I was young, I was ‘his challenge’. I have known him since I was fourteen, and he tended to be, at times, in my opinion, a bit too overprotective. I was the ‘daughter he never had’ who was, at times, his nightmare as well.
He, a Jesuit, is highly intellectual and I, with my ‘Franciscan Spirit’, very earthy. Differences aside, our focus in life was, and still is, to please the Lord. And, at the time, I was convinced that Kensington was part of the Lord’s plan whether Fr. Bob agreed or not.
My mother and father hugged both my brother and me goodbye and we were off… finally.
Lost in conversation and laughter, my brother and I were surprised when we reached the elevated train tracks overlooking Kensington Ave. so quickly. As we approached St. Francis Inn, I was instantly intimidated. A ‘spoiled’ Long Island suburbia girl, I was not used to dirt or poverty. Here I saw both. As I stepped out of the car to meet our greeters, 2 scraggly women eagerly ran to us and hugged me tightly. My immediate reaction was disgust and I wanted to go home. Maybe Fr. Bob was right, after all….
After we were shown our sleeping quarters and were settled in, we met with Brother Francis and Sister Bernadette. They immediately put me at ease with their gentle nature. Soon, my spirit recalled why I was there and prayed for strength and guidance. It was decided that I was to work in both the Soup Kitchen as a server and Thrift Shop.
This was to be a journey of truth that I would never forget.
Dinner went smoothly. All the homeless lined up promptly at five and everyone knew everyone. The regulars of St. Francis joked and talked with the homeless as though they were ‘real people’. Real people? … ah, um, of course they are real people, I just meant….
My first mistake was serving uneven portions. Just as I was feeling comfortable, I served my last table and as I turned towards the kitchen, one of the men at ‘my’ table started to yell.
“Missy, you come here right now and tell me if you notice anything!"
“Are you talking to me?"
“Who else! Now get your butt over here right now! You have some expainin’ to do!"
I timidly walked towards the table and honestly didn’t notice anything wrong and told him so.
“Don’t notice anything? What are you blind? You gave Mike more food than me and his roll is bigger!"
Within seconds, Sister Bernadette came to my rescue and calmed the man down. She humbly replaced his plate with a portion comparable to Mike’s as well as a roll the same exact size.
I stared in amazement.
Later that evening, I asked Sister Bernadette why she had pacified that man? Clearly, in my opinion, he was rude and out of line. His ungrateful attitude was reason alone to ‘kick him out’ never to return. Recognizing my youth, Sister Bernadette gently responded that this work was about ‘serving the people’ and being ‘a true witnesses of Christ’. With that last comment, she said goodnight and left. I didn’t know if my hotheaded temper could put up with this, but I was willing to give it a try.
The next morning, after 6:00 am Mass, yes, 6:00 am, a van arrived to escort me to the Thrift Shop. I looked forward to that, especially after the previous night’s drama, and eagerly climbed aboard.
I sat up front with the driver, Charlie, and we talked the whole way uptown. Charlie was full of interesting tales, and as he was talking, I noticed he was toothless. I also noticed that he dressed poorly. Once we arrived at the Thrift Shop, I quickly forgot and entered the store eager to work.
It was early and the only people in the store were the workers, all women. Women of different sizes, age, race, but all women who looked poor. They each welcomed me with a hug and quickly put me to work. I immediately felt comfortable with these women and looked forward to a nice day.
Within day’s end, I found out the common thread between Charlie and the women who worked at the Thrift Shop. They, at one time or another in their lives, were homeless and, through the help and guidance of St. Francis’ ministering, ‘got off the streets’ and decided to join St. Francis’ mission to help other’s like themselves.
Ex-cons, alcoholics, drug addicts, prostitutes and felons who had the joy of Jesus in their hearts surrounded me. Their stories would make the hairs on anyone’s arms stand straight and yet, even though I understood it to be ‘my mission to help them’, the opposite was true. They took me ‘under their wing’ and protected me from the streets.
Every morning at 5:00 am I would hear tapping on my bedroom window. Instinctively knowing that I was not a morning person, LaKeisha took it upon herself to me my ‘wake-up’ call. LaKeisha was an ex prostitute and heroin addict.
One evening, while serving dinner, shooting started and before I knew it, a ragged man named Anthony ran to my defense to protect me from the shots. I later found out that Anthony was an ex-con who had a Masters Degree. Alcoholism had led him to the streets and he had been homeless for over fifteen years. He was a grandfather and was a husband with a family at home who learned to live without him. Anthony saved my life that night and I thanked God for Anthony.
Throughout the rest of my stay at St. Francis’ I learned and I observed. These people, who I initially viewed upon as dirty, all had souls and were seeking truth. When it was time to say goodbye, it was I who reached out to everyone and cried. I felt at one with everyone and realized that that ‘there but for the Grace of God could be I’.
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Top-level comments on this article: (6 total)A very moving story Judi, you know when we are young sometimes we think we know it all. At 19, I was in Vietnam when we walked through villages I look at those people as if they were ignorant. But although their lifestyle was simple they were human beings with the same feelings we all have. Sometimes it takes maturity before we can see a person’s heart through a shabby body. "good article"You're right, David, when we are young, we know it all... or at least we think we do (smile) I hope just I have the wisdom and patience to 'go through that stage' with my daughter. I guess, if one's open, life is the teacher for us... I'm sorry that Vietnam was one of your teachers. Your comments always mean much to me, thank you , David.
Judi, I agree with your title. Most of us have led sheltered and blessed lives. I don't know that I could do what you did, but I'd like to. Thanks for giving me something to think about.JL, that happened over 30 years ago, and I can still remember it as though it were yesterday. The experience humbled me and changed me. I am happy it gave you something to think about. Thanks so much for your comment!
Wonderful story Judi. It's so easy to marginalize people when we consider them in the abstact. Per your example, it is a different experience to actually get to know them and respect them. I'm glad you were stubborn enough to take the risk. Thanks for sharing.Well, according to Fr. Bob, I am 'blamed for all of his grey hairs'... smile... I guess I've always been stuborn, Steve, but for me, God works in strange ways. Thanks so much for your comment!
hi judi, i enjoyed your story and could relate to your feelings and assumptions. you write with ease, and that makes it easy for the reader. thanks for your warm and soleful story, best regards, sue thomThank you, Sue, for your kind comments, that means a lot!
Judi, yes.."but for the Grace of God!" That experience has helped to make you who you are today and Laura can be a beneficiary. A beautiful story to share with us, thank you. You helped make a difference in the lives of others and recognized the difference others made in yours.Thanks so much Avis. God has shown me so much in my short life and am grateful that my daughter is growing up with compassion and understanding in a world I know longer understand.
Judi, What you did is what I believe Christian committment is all about. You were there for the needy and down-trodden. A wonderful story of love.I guess I see God working through other people and that's how I often learn and this experience really taught me alot! Thanks for your comments, James!
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