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Traditionally, the national Homeless Memorial Day is observed on December 21, because that is known to be the longest night of the year. (This years regional observation, in Wilmington, was held on Dec. 18, because the 21st fell on a Sunday.) On that night, activities are held all over the country. For the past few years, interested people from Cecil County have attended and participated in the one in Wilmington, DE which includes a march with appropriate banners, through the downtown area during rush hour, followed by a gathering and program in Rodney Square and ending with a community meal of hot soup. The march is difficult for some, due to physical ailments, and others are inspired by those who limp on because the reason for the march is important to them. The program is always moving (aside from the shuffling around to keep warm) as those lost during the previous year are named and remembered, as those still homeless share some of their experiences, and as the formerly homeless share their stories and offer hope to those still struggling. The soup is always appreciated for the warmth it provides as well as the nourishment. Each year, I come away from that gathering with at least one new insight and several things to ponder in the weeks to come. This year, during the planning stages, a resident of settlement House volunteered to sing during the program and set about to find an appropriate song. He finally decided that none of the songs he found said what he wanted to say and, jokingly, suggested that we write one. Once he had planted that idea in my head, I found myself thinking about what such a song might include and about my thoughts after each of the past marches. I realized that most of my thoughts and impressions centered on contrast. One year, a woman, who was well bundled up, told me that she had to leave because she couldn't stand the cold". As she headed for her car, she passed a man, whose warmest garment was a hooded sweatshirt, holding a poster in his teeth with his hands in his pockets because he had no gloves. I am still amazed that she kept on going but my guess is that she didn't even notice him. I am always struck by how willingly some share what little they have, while others hold on tightly to their abundance. You might see two men sharing a pair of gloves so that each can hold one side of a banner with a gloved hand while keeping the other one warm in a pocket. You might see two or more people sharing the warmth of a single blanket, or even a coat. I am always very much aware of the contrast in the reason for our gathering and the "hustle and bustle" of people Christmas shopping amid bright lights and other decorations. It always brings to mind the contradiction of people who "worship a homeless man on Sunday" and then ignore, or worse, the homeless people they see in their own towns or neighborhoods. I did, eventually, manage to write some new words for Greensleeves which met with the singer's approval and he sang them beautifully - during his rehearsal. Sadly, he did not get to sing it during the program, because he was sent to jail the day before, for back child support, despite having documentation of a doctor's recommendation that he not work for a year because of medical problems. This brings to mind another contrast; that many, who are well-able to support their children, choose not to and still go free, while others, who are, at least temporarily, unable to support even themselves, go to jail. Since I have been involved in the struggle against homelessness, I have learned many things, mostly by consideration of contrasts, including those mentioned here. Perhaps the most important thing Ive learned is to know the difference between wanting and needing. This lesson is constantly reinforced by hearing people, during the Homeless Memorial, for example, express gratitude for having their most basic needs met. Consider the difference between someone who thinks they "need" a new chair because the old one clashes with the new couch and someone who is grateful for a warm bed, in a shelter or someone else's home. Or someone who "needs" a new coat because they've "been wearing this one for two or three years" while someone else is grateful for a hooded sweatshirt that will, at least, add another layer against the cold. How can people, who have so much, fail to be humbled in the presence of people who are grateful for so little? I would like to close on a more positive note by sharing what many at Settlement House have considered to be a pre-Christmas miracle. About a week before Christmas I got a call from a former resident who, through a combination of circumstances, had ended up in Wilmington at the Sunday Breakfast Mission. He had hitch-hiked there about a week before and said that he had "lost everything" when the driver, who had given him a ride, drove off before he could get his bag out of the back of the pick-up truck. We agreed that he would return to Settlement House the following day so that he could return to his old job. When he arrived the next morning it was with a sense of awe which he was anxious to explain. He said that a manager at the bus station in Wilmington had given him a pass to Glasgow, which was awesome in itself. Once in Glasgow, he set out for Elkton on foot. It was one of those mornings when vehicles are wet with melted frost and each one that passed threw off water. He said he saw a big truck speeding toward him with water streaming off it and "something told [him]" to turn away from it, which he did. Once the truck had passed and he opened his eyes, he saw in front of him, in the ditch, his bag. when he checked, everything was still in there. As he said, what were the chances that he would spot that bag, in the ditch, along the road, many miles from where he last saw it? He feels that God made him turn at that particular place and I, for one, can't argue with that. A miracle? You'll have to decide for yourself. From Settlement House, we all wish you a wonderful 1998, with the blessings of
Christmas all year long. We hope to see you at the next Homeless Memorial Day program. |