Thursday, December 27, 2012

Crochet Synapses, Ladies Who Knit and Other Miracles



Have you ever encountered a situation in which you felt completely out of your element?

Today, I’m thinking about my dear Grandma Nell trying to teach me how to crochet while I was a sixth grader recovering from an appendectomy. I clearly needed something to keep me busy. Against all odds, she brought over a crochet hook (maybe two; I’ve tried to forget), yarn and patiently, painstakingly tried to teach me the fine art of crocheting.

I just didn’t get it. The proverbial light never went on. No one was home in the part of my brain where the crochet synapses were housed.  I was overwhelmed. My stomach began to hurt and my appendix was already gone.

My grandma took mercy and gently removed the mystifying crochet stuff from my hands.

Mind you, I have many family members and friends for whom crocheting is second nature. But the art and science of the hook and yarn are still beyond me. Now as then, when someone enters the room with crocheting material meant for my use I roll myself into a ball and wait for the cartoons to come on. I’m simply overwhelmed.

My situation with crocheting is rather humorous. It is not a crippling thing for me to lack crocheting skills in the bigger picture of life.

But what if the basic stuff of life left you utterly confounded? That’s the situation in which many of our neighbors in Springs Rescue Mission's Resource Advocate Program (RAP) find themselves. Through RAP, scores of chronically homeless friends in need receive the encouragement and coping skills needed to get through the month. A few weeks ago my colleague Sarah sent a progress report on several people who were no longer overwhelmed by things that just a short time ago left them stymied:

“Jeremy went to the pharmacy and got his own meds for the first time ever!”



“Willie Lee came and told us that his meds didn’t seem to be working (amazing self care, first time!)  And on the advice of his Advocate, he promptly went to the VA clinic and got increased doses (after a blood test confirmed that the levels WERE down).”



“Holly and Darrin have been chronically homeless living in addiction – they each entered a treatment program this month.”



“Krystle regained custody of her two children from Department of Human Services and is second on the waiting list to enter the Salvation Army Fresh Start Program.”



 “Will has been homeless for more than two years.  He moved into housing very near his mother’s nursing home and thanks to a lovely donor, he was gifted with a new afghan for his bed.  (This will be a new part of our program – when you move into housing, the ‘ladies who knit’ will make a bed covering.)”

That last item is proof that ladies who knit can be the source of miracles that comfort and encourage. (Just sayin’, in spite of my being crochet-challenged.) In fact, lots of people pitch in to help make miracles out of things that previously overwhelmed our chronically homeless neighbors. One way you can make a big difference right now is to visit www.indygive.com/srm. Then find and follow the prompts to make a donation to support RAP. Even $10 can make a huge difference to help a chronically homeless neighbor through the month!


Friday, December 21, 2012

No __cancy



So Joe pulls into the parking lot of the fifth motel of the day. His wife Em is great with child, and the shocks on the car aren’t what they used to be, and he knows if they hit one more pothole the baby will pop out right there, no questions asked.

The ancient Buick pulls alongside the awning over the door into the front desk. The “No Vacancy” sign is lit up, but the “v” and “a” are both dark so the sign reads, “No cancy.” Joe sounds it out: “No can see.” He says it out loud a few times, still under his breath, and begins to chuckle. 

By then Joe’s at the front desk and the help there might be the owner, but you’d never know it by looking at him. The poor guy behind the desk is making his pitch that there’s no room at this inn and Joe’s still chuckling over “no can see,” and he holds up one finger and shakes it and says, “Wait. Before you say anything else, I want you to come and look at my wife. Just see what’s going on. It’ll just take a minute, I promise.”

So the help (maybe the owner) checks the hip holster under his light jacket to make sure the gun’s still there and follows Joe to the Buick. It’s colder outside than he expected, but just looking at the woman on the passenger’s side makes him whistle in amazement. “You sure you don’t want an ambulance, lady?”

Em manages a smile and suddenly sucks in her breath like she wants to create a vacuum that will suck in the Buick around her. She manages another smile that turns into a grimace. “No time…NO TIME.”

Joe turns pale. “Em?” But she’s already turning herself sideways and telling Joe to get everything ready to catch the baby, because she’s gonna push and there’s not a thing he can do to stop her.  On his way to giving his wife the attention she needed, Joe looks at the help and says, “Please call the police or the fire station or someone who can actually help her. I’ll be worthless!”

The help (maybe the owner) says, “Anyone can see you two need help. I’ll make the call right now!” and runs into the motel lobby behind the counter and dials 911. Joe is in wonder at the difference it makes for people to actually see what’s going on so they understand what kind of help someone needs while he’s arranging their sleeping bags and coats like he’s seen it done in at least a dozen movies. Some of them were comedies, some of them were dramas and it fits because he’s laughing and crying at the same time while Em who usually watches her tongue lets out a blue streak that would make most of the guys at the shop blush, and then he’s laughing and crying at the same time because his wife’s scream is fading and the wail announcing his first and only son has arrived is building and the red lights from the paramedic fire truck are getting closer.
Joe’s jacket catches the baby and he hopes the paramedics hurry to help him figure out the mess. Em says “Let me see,” and Joe scrunches the jacket around the baby a bit more tightly and thinks he will ask the first paramedic who can actually see what’s going on to cut the cord. Em’s voice is still surprisingly strong.

Then a paramedic shows up and asks, “Everything all right?” and Joe says, “Please, take a look for yourself,” and waits while the paramedic does whatever it is he’s doing and wishes he could see and understand but there’s no room and once again Joe wonders why “no can see” is the theme of the night. 

The paramedic says, “Here’s your son. We’re going to take you all to the hospital to clean up and make sure everyone’s OK. Looks good from here, but let’s make sure.”

Joe nods and is grateful to see into the eyes of his miracle and wonders if he’s looking into the eyes of Jesus for a moment and feels like he could look through the eyes of Jesus at everyone around him—Em, his new boy, the owner (maybe the help) at the motel, the paramedics who are guiding him and his son into the back of the ambulance where Em is already, the homeless guys and gals from the park across the street who checked out the commotion and are headed to the underpass five blocks away to huddle together for warmth while they sleep.

They’re all so beautiful, Joe realizes. Who knew?

We just don’t see.

Friday, December 14, 2012

“And Use Soap!”



Amid our holiday bustle, let us pause to consider the wonders of soap and its personal hygiene cousins. 

Public health documentation indicates that the introduction of bathing, and bathing with soap, was the turning point to send disease rates downward in a number of infectious disease events from the mid-1800s through the late 20th century. The disease downturns often came years, if not decades, ahead of vaccine development. [i]

(Parents of the civilized world, now you can show your children the written evidence that bathing with soap is truly a benefit to individual and public health. “And use soap!” should not be limited to the speech of June Cleaver, after all.)

So when our neighbors in need at the Mission show up with a need for hygiene items, we pay attention. You see, the study also shows what our practical experience affirms: without effective and ongoing personal hygiene, the possibility of suffering infections and infectious disease goes up substantially. Simply put, their health suffers without soap, shampoo, deodorant,  toothpaste, toothbrushes and the other commodities that figure into staying clean.

Homelessness and poverty often make staying clean a challenge. You can imagine sleeping outdoors, having to walk some distance to secure a shower, and then trying to launder your clothing (or find new) in an effort to keep rashes and sores to a minimum. Can you imagine how difficult it is to maintain the positive effects of that shower without soap and shampoo, much less laundry detergent? 
For many of our homeless and impoverished neighbors, it’s an everyday challenge that can actually be worse in Colorado winters than summers.

The increase in families and individuals stopping by to secure the basics of life has drained our shelves of health and hygiene items of late. We need the simple stuff—soap, shampoo, toothpaste, toothbrushes, feminine care products, diapers, deodorant—to help hundreds of families and individuals avoid skin and wound infections as well as communicable disease in the next few weeks. Can you help? Any size of any hygiene product is welcome.

A little soap (and it hygienic cousins) will work wonders today, just as it has for centuries before.


[i] The Soap and Detergent Association, “Against Disease: The impact of hygiene and cleanliness on health.” November 2008. Accessed at http://www.againstdisease.com/documents/SDA_Against_Disease_final_cover_11808.pdf. Face it, you always knew Mom was right.

Monday, December 3, 2012

Artistic Vision at Street Level




The real function of an artist is to give fresh vision to their own generation. 
– Doris McCarthy

The smallest things sometimes cause the greatest stir. In the case of Brian’s photo of water reflecting a diving swallow, it was the subtlety of a small bird acting like a barnstorming pilot as it was framed by a Colorado Springs tunnel. Maybe more, it was Brian’s ability to describe the process he went through in noticing the bird in the first place and taking pictures in hope of catching the bird in flight. The swallow’s reflection, as it ends up, was a bonus.

And at this fall’s first Street Level show featuring art from the homeless and formerly homeless, it was the conversation starter that brought viewer after viewer to stand in front of Brian’s photo. “Find the Swallow and Its Reflection” became the thing to do that evening, in part because the swallow brought the photo to life—just as Brian had anticipated as he waited to take the just-right image of the just-right moment at few months ago.

But it didn’t stop there. Because Brian had spent time on the streets homeless and scrambling to survive, he had to find his own places of whimsy and comfort. There is humor in his shot of a Queen Anne wingback stuck somewhere in the middle of Fountain Creek. He has his own story about the security of sleeping within a few feet of active train tracks, and somehow his picture of a passing train makes sense in that light. Brian sees drainage ditches and abandoned buildings with intact glass through an artist’s eye seasoned in the unique crucible of homelessness.

It’s tough to explain without seeing the pictures, of course. The good news is that Brian’s work (and there’s more than there’s room here to describe) is on display for the entire month of December at CafĂ© 225 at 225 North Weber Street in downtown Colorado Springs. The Cafe is open from 7 am -5 pm Monday through Friday, and Sunday from 7 am – noon. You can stop by for coffee and browse the work yourself, or come to one of the Street Level Homeless Art Gallery events from 5 -7 pm on December 7th, 14th or 28th and chat with Brian himself.

The Street Level events will also feature the work of other artists who are, or have been, homeless. There  will be a variety of projects on display ranging from jewelry to pen and ink to photography and more at Street Level. Some of the artists will be available at the December events, as well.

One more thing: the Street Level artists whose work is featured have all been helped by Springs Rescue Mission’s Resource Advocate Program, which connects our homeless neighbors with the help they need for medical care, housing, job hunting, and more. You can make donations to support RAP and the people it serves at Street Level events through the Independent Give! Campaign through December.

Please join us this month and enjoy the fresh artistic vision of these artists at Street Level!