Work With the Poor

By Peachy Salas, HOLD Illinois

 

 

 

… our voices blended into one beautiful offering of commitment to His call to work with the poor ….

 

 

Summer has been pretty good so far – spring seemed to have overextended its reach.  Nothing to rant about the notoriously fickle Chicago weather until … July 12, 2008 – 5:00 a.m.

 

I was rudely awakened to witness long streaks of lightning tear the sky apart. The walls were vibrating from the rumbling thunder and outside the window was some serious - if not furious, downpour. My mind frantically raced to visualize the difficulty of negotiating the expressway in the blinding rain. Not to mention that my elderly car was nearly bursting at the seams overloaded with a guitar, amplifier, 2 trays of “sinangag”, a tray of “tuyo”, a tray of “tinapa”, 4 bags of clothing,  a couple of comforters, blankets, pillows and 3 other full grown, sleep-deprived handmaids. 

 

We planned to arrive at the Manaloto’s Residence in Porter, Indiana before 7:30 am – but the heavy rains kept us down to 45 mi/hr. I was alone awake wrestling with my will …. and then I heard the voice …”Are you backing out now?”  That quiet challenge shook me back to full alertness and then I wondered if all the other handmaids bound for the same address for the same purpose, were similarly confronted with the question. I lowered my expectation of the headcount for this weekend retreat. But nothing could stop the HOLD!  

 

Surprisingly, we reached our destination only 15 minutes behind and not long after, all the other cars came in like in a queue. Attendance was full – we even had a couple or so late registrants. Breakfast was immediately served. To prelude the theme of HER 3:

Bringing Glad Tidings to the Poor, the sleep-hungry, road-weary handmaids were fed sinangag, pan de sal and tuyo. Lunch was barely there – boiled sweet potatoes, a quarter of tinapang bangus, corned beef drowning in a bucketful of diced potatoes swimming in tap water and, and a slice of banana. This was the participants’ immersion into the reality of poverty - to set an appropriate backdrop for the lessons of compassion, generosity and gratitude.

 

To stretch the handmaids’ “immersion” process, we drove next to a nursing home in Michigan City, Indiana. There are actually many volunteer sites everywhere in the US where individuals or groups can contribute their services/ resources to alleviate the sufferings of our less fortunate brothers and sisters.  There are no RV’s or MV’s but there  are soup kitchens, public pantries, shelters for the homeless most everywhere.  And given the constraints of our weekend retreat, we were limited to just a few hours of bringing glad tidings to the residents of a small nursing home. Again, I felt stirrings of doubt if that was at all possible.

 

First there were only about 8 of them elderly patients scattered in the recreation room when we filed in. The atmosphere was almost like a desert – very, very dry; the life energy very faint.  Here was twilight zone, I thought.  I panned the entire room and noticed only 2 people in an anticipatory mood for entertainment. There was obvious boredom if not nonchalance on the faces of the others. A couple of the older ones (late 90’s) seemed just too far gone to know any thing at all. After the initial nervous number, the handmaids grew more and more intense in their singing.  Definitely, there was Spirit moving behind the songs of worship such that halfway through the hour, more and more of the residents had asked to be wheeled into the room and a lot of those who were initially indifferent had delightfully engaged themselves. The handmaids were all passionately dancing at this time, making their rounds of acquaintances among the elderly who seemed to have suddenly been defrosted and were now struggling with their memory to catch up with the tunes.  When the handmaids sang “You are My Sunshine” the emotional build up climaxed.  Instantly the recreation room was transformed into a concert hall, the audience bobbing their heads, clapping their hands, singing along. One of them resting on her wheelchair said:  “This makes me want to get up and dance like old times”.  Someone picked her up and pushed for the closest she could get her to dance. Was she overjoyed! 

 

We obliged to do an encore – the smiles from our energized audience illuminated the room … and then with great reluctance on both the entertainers and the entertained, the visit had to end.  Pictures taken of the affair can speak only very little of the exhilarating experience we shared with the residents. For one brief moment, the sun shone so very bright and joy overflowed in the recreation room of one nursing home in Indiana.  The Good Lord had indeed blessed our intention to bring a little joy to these lonely people. Slowly we headed back to the highway wearing a smile and carrying a huge bouquet of roses in our hearts, not sure now who gained the more out of the experience.

 

Very early the following day, we were taken to a beach for our morning prayers.  We walked toward a vast expanse of blue above, the refreshing sound of waves around, the fertile contrast of green in the trees, and soft sands to dig our feet in.  In stark simplicity, mother earth had offered her unadulterated beauty at its best. Reflecting on the events of the previous day – the stormy trip, the time constraints, the intense discussions, moments of serious self-examination, I felt humbled and disrobed of artificial needs and material trappings. During our praise and worship, my soul was quietly led into a sanctuary where I felt affirmed of the Lord’s anointing. Everything that I have, everything I enjoy, everything and everyone I hold dear, everything that I see, everything that I feel, all these are at no cost on my part, His precious gifts to me. I heard myself say “Yes, Lord – be it done to me according to Your Word” when the words “share”, “give”, “love”,  flashed across my mental screen. And as if to underscore a life purpose, I shed tears. As we proceeded to say the Rosary, our voices blended into one beautiful offering of commitment to His call to work with the poor, our hearts empowered by the same Spirit who has led us to a wellspring that will never exhaust itself.

 

I opened my eyes briefly enough to notice each of the handmaids lost in their own world of deep prayer.  It was a holy hour of communion together with our Maker - at His appointed time, in His appointed place. Humbled even more, I recognized the privilege of being part of this community of faith.  A snapshot of this moment will prove the joy in my heart – knowing that in future, when the storms of life threaten to cloud my ray of hope, I will be reminded of one stormy day in July when Chicago HOLD braved the storm and found it very much worth the effort and still very profoundly rewarding. <