The Secret of Stone Soup

“Wow! Look at all these gifts!”

Indeed, the sight was impressive. Hundreds of Christmas toys were in the wrapping room as we prepared for the recent Christmas for All event, where hundreds of children were coming to receive what, for many of them, were their appointed “fun” Christmas gifts (like toys and crayons and other stuff I wanted as I helped my wife at her wrapping station).

I couldn’t help but think back to November, when the Mission had just three dozen or so turkeys on hand for food boxes and other distribution. We put out the word, and in two weeks we had around 2,000 turkeys to share.

The toys came from a large number of different people. Some stopped by the warehouse at the Mission to drop off toys. Others contributed at collection points that were spread throughout El Paso County: businesses, churches, retail locations, schools. There were several donors that brought many toys to the table, but most came from families and individuals who gave one or two at a time.

The same goes for the turkeys. I was on the turkey drop-off detail for one really busy morning in November. I can tell you that during my shift at least a couple hundred frozen turkeys came in one or two at a time, from a lot of different people. Again, there were several donors that brought dozens of turkeys but most came from families and individuals who gave one or two at a time.

Very, very often—like with Thanksgiving turkeys and Christmas toys—the Mission’s work succeeds because people give what they can (for example: a toy, a coat, a turkey, a monthly pledge), not what they wish they could (a check large enough to eradicate poverty in the Pikes Peak Region forever). If you think one toy or one turkey doesn’t matter because it doesn’t solve “the big problem,” you need to be reminded of the Secret of Stone Soup. (At least that’s the reminder my lovely bride brought up as we wrapped Christmas for All gifts.)

“Stone Soup” retells an old French (maybe Dutch, maybe Chinese?) folk tale. Three hungry travelers stay in a village where the people are hiding their food. The travelers tell the villagers they can make a hearty soup out of stones, and will show them how. All it requires is that each family bring something simple for the stone soup – a few carrots, a couple of potatoes, a bit of beef, an onion or two.

You can guess what happens. The travelers prepare a large cauldron of boiling water and throw in a stone each. The villagers come with the vegetables and meat, just a little from each family, and watch with fascination as the cauldron of Stone Soup transforms into a delicious meal that feeds everyone well.

What made Stone Soup such a success? A lot of people did what they could given their circumstances. No one gave beyond their means. When their contributions came together, the result became much more than anyone (except maybe the travelers) expected.

If more of us contribute what we really can, not what we wish we could, the combined results for our neighbors in need are usually far greater than expected.

That’s the Secret of Stone Soup. That’s how we all contribute to an outreach that becomes bigger than the sum of its parts.

Silver Bells, Anyone?

City sidewalks, busy sidewalks….[i]

“Can you get out of my way?”

Josh moves at a slower pace because his calorie intake today isn’t sufficient to support his walking at a brisk shopper’s pace the Wednesday before Christmas. He’s not staggering right now. He’s just not moving fast enough for the downtown sidewalk traffic. The sub-freezing air is being driven by a constant breeze. Not much to that wind, but it still reduces the temperature’s impact by another seven degrees into single digits.

Dressed in holiday style…

“Mom, he stinks!”

This is Josh’s first Christmas as a homeless person. He was kicked out of his home, probably rightly so, when he lost control of his temper and took his first swing ever at his mother. (Good thing he was so drunk that he missed.)

Josh is still learning the ropes. He needs to find someplace that will maybe give him a change of clothes and the stuff he needs for a sponge bath. He needs a warmer coat. He also needs to eat, soon.

In the air, there’s a feeling of Christmas…

Josh stops for a moment to survey the setting around him. He sees a guy he might be able to talk to, who is manning a Salvation Army bucket. Josh walks over, letting shoppers pass by him, trying to stay downwind of as many people as possible. Josh doesn’t even open his mouth and the guy looks at his watch, looks at Josh, and speaks.

“Dude, you can still make it to the Mission for dinner. Straight down Tejon, right at Las Vegas Street. Twenty-minute walk, and you’ve still got half an hour to be there.”

Josh makes it a few minutes ahead of time. Samaritan’s Kitchen is warm, and they let people in before the meal starts. He finds an empty chair between two guys who sort of look like he does. The food is hot and seems to warm up the conversation around the table. Josh discovers that there are options for homeless people in Colorado Springs. Most of the recovery programs sound way too restrictive for him, at least as he hears about them from those around the table.

Josh also knows he can’t stay homeless forever. At least he hopes he won’t. His mom asked him to come home for the family Christmas meal, but also made it clear he wasn’t welcome to stay. He’s learned from his new friends that the Mission has a community meal two days before Christmas. Maybe if he plays it right, he can eat well for a few days running.

But then, he’ll have some hard decisions to make before the really cold weather hits. Detox? A recovery program? Ride out the winter and hope for an early spring? Sober up and beg to come home until a job comes along?

Soon it will be Christmas Day…

Josh stabs at his dessert and shakes his head. How did Christmas end up like this, anyway?

He’s too much of a rookie to know it, but almost everyone else in the room is sharing the same thought.

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[i] Excerpts from Silver Bells, italicized in this article, are property of their authors, Jay Livingston and Ray Evans (© 1950, 1977), and used here for educational purposes. Work originally published by Paramount Music Corp.

“I’d best stop complaining…”

Cyrele sits in the Direct Services waiting room with her sister and the church volunteer who brought them. “I tell you something, there’s not a lot in this town for seniors. Least it feels that way.”

I’m trying to take notes while the crowd noise around us settles into a mild drone. Cyrele is in her late seventies. Diabetes may have slowed her down physically, but she’s still whip-smart and really articulate about what it’s like to grow older. “I get tired eating tuna from a can. We need to be fed. One hot meal a day could make a big difference.”

But then she grows more reflective and sighs. “I’d best stop complaining.”

The volunteer that brought Cyrele rubs her shoulder. “Cyrele, if anyone deserves to speak out, you do.” I’m still being introduced to Cyrele’s story, but I nod in encouragement and gently squeeze her wrist for a moment.

“Look, my niece and her children needed to move in with me a few months ago. It works, but no one’s comfortable. There are five of us in my studio apartment. Then I’m feeding them off my food stamps some.”

I try to keep a poker face. Maybe I succeed, maybe she sees my eyebrows elevate. She continues. “Food stamps don’t last forever, and you have mouths to feed. That’s why the Mission is so important. These food boxes and sacks of groceries you give out here make it so we can go on.

“Last month we had to choose between getting one of our babies’ inhaler and getting groceries. Good thing I know how to make syrup sandwiches!”

“And how does that work with your diabetes?”

“Doesn’t! That’s why I have so much tuna on the shelves when I can get it.”

Cyrele was one of maybe 20 or 30 seniors who were at the Mission for the food distribution that morning. You might be so used to seeing a different image of the homeless that you don’t think about seniors being a part of the mix. But according to recent Feeding America statistics, senior hunger is a real problem. About nine percent of seniors live under the poverty line. Among organizations like the Mission, 30% of client households with seniors indicated that they’ve had to choose between food and medical care, and 35% have had to choose between food and paying for heat/utilities.

If I could say one thing to friends and families about seniors, it’s that they may not speak out enough. They don’t like complaining.

But they do need action.

Brother, Can You Spare a Turkey?

Sometimes when you try to help others respond to the needs of homeless and at-risk families, the most practical requests are the best requests. I think it’s because people can really get their arms around such requests, frankly.

Take turkeys, for instance. As might be expected, turkeys are a mainstay item in holiday food boxes distributed here at the Mission. If a turkey happens to have, say, 12 pounds of meat on it once you’re past the bones and parts you don’t use, a family of three can use the meat as the basis of a meal for about 10 family meals after their Thanksgiving dinner. That’s right: every medium-sized turkey, if used judiciously, can supply protein for a total of 33 individual meals without skimping.

That’s why food pantries, Gospel missions, halfway houses and our neighbors in need get really excited when they see a turkey coming their way. Yes, it could mean a family or individual gets to enjoy a more traditional Thanksgiving meal. That’s certainly to the plus side of the ledger. But these days, more people think about the turkey’s total nutritional impact. For all the whining many of us did about leftover turkey as we were growing up, for an increasing number of families that bird could supply almost a week’s worth of protein.

I’m not suggesting that everyone goes into the detailed mathematics of food dispersion before they donate a turkey. But especially in seasons where supermarkets make turkeys a loss leader or bonus item, they can easily become a strategic and welcome part of a holiday food basket that often lasts a family in need for a week. Generous people who bring just one turkey to benefit homeless or at-risk families make a huge difference for those who often choose between paying for food and paying for utilities, medicine, or school supplies.

So thanks to all of you who answered “Yes!” to the question, “Brother, can you spare a turkey?” this Thanksgiving. You made a larger impact than you probably thought. (You can calculate that difference by multiplying how many turkeys you donated times 11 family meals or times 33 individual meals like we did above, by the way.) And if you missed your chance to get your turkey into a food box this week…well, Christmas and a fresh round of holiday food boxes are just a few weeks away.

The Beauty of Demolition

If you’ve ever had a life-controlling issue, you know the drill. You also know the drill if you’ve ever had a loved one with a life-controlling issue. Part of recovery is making the decision, again and again, is showing no mercy to what controlled you.

You cut the ties. You torch the bridges. You leave it in another life.

And anytime something reinforces your choice to be free, you cheer. That’s what’s lighting up the faces of the men in our New Life recovery program here on Las Vegas Street. This week we celebrate the expansion of the Life Recovery Center, which houses the program, by tearing down a big sign that says “Liquor.”

The sign is on the building adjacent to the current residential center for the men in the program. In fact, the current building shares a wall with what was once a very popular liquor store in the neighborhood. Starting next week, thanks to a very generous grant, we’re refurbishing the former liquor store into more rooms for the recovery center.

Sweet irony, isn’t it? Poetic justice for a lot of the gentlemen we serve here. You see, their basic decision to stay sober is one they make every day – and it’s not always easy. The chance for them to help replace a venue that fed their addiction with a place that could stabilize their lives and relationships and future? Beyond words.

Let that crane swing, and listen for the cheers on Las Vegas Street. Demolition can be a beautiful thing.