I Left My Balm In Gilead

Sunday I gave a talk about the Blanket Project at a church in my town. It is a lovely old church, white-washed walls, deep brown pews, stained glass windows with vibrant shades of blue, room for overflowing crowds, which, at the 8:15 am service, weren't exactly elbow-to-elbow, but they still brought in a nice group.

I repeated a line I heard once at my church back in New York about looking for Christ in the face of every homeless person you see. I said that's how the monumental problem of homelessness is broken down into one small piece that you can help.

Now, don't run off. I mentioned the C-word and I have to tell you that I'm not devout or one of those crazy religious types you've been avoiding your whole adult life. I tend to avoid them, too. As in, I feel an immediate impulse to run screaming in the other direction.

Looking for the Christ in the face of a homeless person means look for the mama wondering what's happened to them, look for their brother wondering if they'll come back some day, look at your own situation during these troubling times and count how many fewer steps there are now between you and your own homelessness.

I grew up with a lot of religion -- in a big Irish Catholic family in rural 'Michiana:'




a flat area of cornfields that meanders back and forth over the Michigan and Indiana state lines. Religion was something I was forced to do, though I remember one Saturday night mass when I felt some fervor deep inside about being a nun. I believe it lasted about 12.5 minutes, definitely forgotten by the time the Mary Tyler Moore Show came on.

Religion was otherwise fairly benign for me until it became part of what kept my mom in a bad marriage until when she finally allowed her Catholic heart to divorce my dad, he (a nonCatholic) later got his marriage to my mom annulled by the Catholic church because he had fallen in love again and his second wife was Catholic and would be (it turns out) more successful at getting my dad to be that good Catholic husband that generation of women had faith in.

But the world is full of stories of religion failing its followers. My neck is getting stiff from looking at religion through that slant.

At 47, I'm driving a wide curve in my life back to maybe, possibly, having a little bit of faith. In something. Perhaps, in the end, Santa Claus is my spiritual leader. (He sees all, knows all, motivates me to be a better me. OK, sure, there's a merchandise payoff, but, these dark days, motivation is worth its weight in gold. Plus, this year he gave me the sewing machine I've been asking for.)

It's a pretty predictable turn: having babies knocks a little need for faith into you, having a middle schooler REALLY restores that need, my husband is 8 months post-cancer diagnosis, the world, as we all know, is in a speedy hand basket down a pretty scary path. Sure, I'm looking for faith in something.

So I'm trying to cut down on the running and screaming in the other direction. I'm trying to hang in with something and not cast it out at the first little twinge up the back of my neck.

And I'm starting to really believe that just my little bit of faith is enough.

The best thing my Catholicism gave me is the beat in my blood to be a voice for those too ground down to have one. It took me a while to realize this came from my Catholic upbringing, but there you are.

And my 'church search' as I call it is sometimes just a search for a way to refill my faith in making things on earth right after I'm out there working on it for awhile. My church in New York did this for me, but only after I stopped flinching at the C word. Sometimes they said Jesus, so it was sometimes the J word.

(I still picture Santa Claus when I hear it, or say it. In my belief system, I am not only allowed to do this, but I am most purely encouraged to do so.)

This past Sunday, with a group of folks staying AFTER church to hear what I have to say (holy crap, they stayed longer just for me?), I learned the cost of all my flinching.

This particular church is very giving to the homeless men's shelter in my town: they bring suppers to the shelter, they share lots of their hard-given money. During my talk, not one person mentioned property values, not one person mentioned that the homeless sometimes pee on the grass in front of the library.

But I flinched when I heard mention of the regular 'foot washings' they do for the homeless men. This was way too steeped in the C- and J- words for me. I instantly ran my inner sermon, my Homily of Retreat: what am I doing here, what am I doing here, picture the parking lot, picture my little Honda driving back out of the parking lot, why don't I spend Sunday mornings with the Washington Post and a dozen donuts?

Then the pastor shared the story of how they started foot washings, even though everyone knew it but me, almost as if, ehem, it was a story that my father, Santa Claus, wanted me to hear.

Ehem.

Their story is simple: One of this church's members is an emergency room nurse. She stood up at one of their recent meetings on how to help the homeless in our town and said, 'if you want to help the homeless, wash their feet and put some clean and dry socks on them.'

That's how it started. That's all.

These church women, who look about how we all think church women look, get down on their knees with a pan of warm, soapy water and wash the feet in front of them, no matter what they look like, or smell like, they are on their knees, offering the homeless soul in front of them their only contact with human touch for who knows how long, talking and listening, washing, patting dry.

And if a little C- or J- words are thrown in, what's the harm in that?

In the name of Santa Claus, amen.

This is what I would do if I could -- forget talking on the cell phone while driving.

We're still unpacking from our move to Baltimore from New York, and I can't find the cable for our camera and it's too full of the photos my youngest took of our cat and dog for me to take new. So you get this one. Unless you're dying to see Cookie or Hud.

Reminder that the first charity project is a call for:

BLANKETS

for the homeless shelter in my town -- twin size, any color, any type of yarn, any pattern, just please make sure it can be MACHINE WASHED.

Send your finished blankets to: Catonsville United Methodist Church, 6 Melvin Avenue, Catonsville, MD 21228.

My local yarn shop is offering a discount on yarn purchased for this project -- check them out here and support a local mom at the same time -- as soon as their online shop is up and running.

It's one small thing I can do for the homeless in my town. I don't pretend to know how to solve the problem of homelessness. I don't pretend that I naturally strive to be my brother's keeper. The sight of the homeless can hurt. It can offend. It can scare you. But I feel less scared if I am doing something about it. I know my own limits -- I can't work as a case manager or an addiction counselor -- I don't have the guts for that incredibly hard work. (I also don't have a college degree, but I digress.)

But I can do one small thing that helps the folks who are able to care for the homeless in those more important ways.

And I can ask you to do that one small thing with me.

Knit up your stash -- use what you have -- send it my way -- and I'll personally place it on the temporary bed of someone's brother, someone's father. Someone's son.

The blanket you make will belong to that brother, that father. The folks who help the homeless in my town help with apartment credit checks, job interviews, connections to Traveler's Aid for a free bus ticket home, finding black boots for their interview at McDonald's. They help them get off the street, into the shelter, and then into a home.

When they leave the shelter, they can take our little blanket with them.

So we'll have to keep knitting more. Because right now, in the cold, is someone's son.

Donate Warmth

I Have The Kneed 4 Knitting.

A men's homeless shelter in my town needs blankets -- and my idea is to contact knitters across the knation:

Have you just about (now that we're in January) finished your Holiday knitting?

Was one of your resolutions that you would not BUY (or finger or drool over) any new knitting until your stash is depleted to a manageable level?

Are you wishing you had some mindless knitting to do while watching the kids, or Turner Classic Movies, or MSNBC, or while daydreaming about having kids with Ted Turner and/or Keith Olbermann and/or Rachel Maddow?

Are you sometimes overwhelmed by the problem of such things as homlessness?

I have volunteered to secure clothing and toiletries for my town's men's shelter, via a nonprofit organization that seeks to help the homeless find permanent housing, jobs, counseling and community (www.lazaruscaucus.org).

I have decided that keeping one person warm who would otherwise freeze during a cold winter outside is worth doing.

I have decided that reaching out to fellow knitters to keep one homeless person warm is worth doing.

I have decided to feed the idea that the knitting you do for a homeless person will wrap more than a blanket around him; some part of you will be wrapped around him, some part of him will stay with you.

I have decided to chisel away at the mammoth problem of homelessness, one blanket covering one shivering person at a time.

Please holler at the knitters you know and send your finished blankets to:

The Lazarus Caucus
ATTN: Andraya Dolbee
6 Melvin Avenue
Catonsville, MD 21228

Blankets can be any pattern, any size, any color, anything you would want to wrap around yourself is what you should make for others. Please remember the shelter I am helping serves men only -- I will find a family shelter for blankets that seem too much for a child or woman.

The men sleep in twin sized beds (though until recently, they had to sleep on the floor) but they can take your blanket with them when they leave. This way your gift will stay with them as they move on to a real home, or back on the streets, or to another shelter.

I also need:

Thermals -- aka Long Underwear shirts and pants -- size XXXL;

Hoodies -- size XL, XXL, XXXL.

I am trying my hand at a blog to write about this project -- I'll report on what we knit together....

Now warm up the tv, or tune in NPR, or fire up the Sirius Satellite and get to knitting!