If you ever had any doubt whether
donations to Project Warmth are needed or not, let me set the record straight.
We just had a guest who
made me cry.
They are houseless. They live in a tent. They told my partner David the general
vicinity of where it is once, and one day we went to check it out and say
hello. They were not home, but we got to
see it.
It is a small tent.
Down a steep embankment.
Next to a stream.
In a little “forest” if
you will. With homes on the other side
of the hill.
In the summer it might be a
beautiful little setting – the creek splashing, birds singing… A get-away from the hustle and bustle that is
all around us.
But it is not summer. It is bitterly cold here. It’s so cold that the local public schools
started 2 hours late today so the kids didn’t have to stand outside waiting for
the bus in the worst of it.
I hadn’t seen this guest
since Christmas day. We gave them one of
the holiday gift bags I think, I hope we did anyway, it’s hard to remember
now. I hadn’t seen them since December,
but I certainly have thought of them.
“I hope they have gone
into the shelter and are not still in the tent…” I thought. “Surely they have gone indoors for THIS – the
ground is covered in ice and snow. They can’t
possibly still be in the thin tent…”.
But they can still
be in the tent. And they are.
I saw them at the Little
Yellow Free Pantry today and ran out to see if they needed anything. They had finished and were walking down the
sidewalk, so I had to yell to get their attention.
When they turned around,
they smiled.
“I have not seen you in a
long time – HAPPY NEW YEAR!” I greeted them.
Then, in their quiet voice
with the beautiful French accent, they said, “Yes, I have not seen you. I came many times, but you were not
here. I changed the times of my visit to
see you, but you were gone. I thought
maybe a holiday?”.
Yes, my friend, a
holiday. To someplace warm.
Talk about privilege… I left my warm home, the one with the soft
bed and the heated blanket, and flew to Florida. There I walked on the sandy beach. I lie in another soft bed. I rested.
I recharged.
While this person shivered
in a tent.
They had already found
food in the pantry today (they collect food not only for themselves, but also
for another person experiencing homelessness that is not healthy enough to
come). But PROJECT WARMTH has
begun. Warmth.
“Have you moved inside??” I
asked hopefully.
“No, no I have not,” they
replied quietly.
Their hands were
uncovered. They stood holding their bag
of food with cold, cold hands.
“Do you have mittens??” I asked.
“No, no I do not,” they
told me.
If we gave them a gift bag
there was a pair of stretchy cotton gloves inside, but those are not really
warm, and this person had probably given them as a gift to his friend.
“Sit here on our
steps! I will go get gloves. I will be right back,” I told them.
When I returned with the
first load, a neighbor and her child had arrived. They were bringing a tiny snowsuit to donate. It was touching – seeing a donor and a
recipient both standing in the sunshine on the freezing sidewalk.
I presented the guest some
amazing gloves someone had donated – black ski gloves that looked very, very
warm. “What about these?” I asked. “Will this work for you or your friend??”. Those were a resounding yes.
More trips inside and back
out.
Sweatshirts. Warm socks.
Hat (we only had one good hat at the moment, the others were too small,
the rest are at the storage unit and need to be retrieved). Long underwear shirt (which I had to explain,
apparently those are not a thing in their home country). Scarves.
A neck warmer. And COATS. For him – a big fluffy black coat with a warm
hood. For his friend, a tan coat with a
sherpa-like lining.
So today, they left with
two big bags. One filled with food. One filled with clothing. (And wearing their
new coat, hat, and gloves.)
But this project may have
the wrong title. For as thick as those
items are, I doubt they can bring warmth in this weather.
But they will bring a bit
of shelter from the cold. A bit of
comfort. And perhaps a bit of hope.
Hope that spring will come
early this year.
Hope that the snow will
melt and the stream begin to babble again.
And hope that someday for
them as it is for me – there will be a warm house with a soft bed.
Hope.
