It’s a Small World

Christmas was supposed to be different. Heath and I were supposed to be languishing in Deridder, LA, trying desperately not to pig out on praline pecans and soaking up warm temperatures. Enter Bomb Cyclone Elliott. Flights cancelled. Warm weather canceled. Praline pecans canceled.

The kids were all out of the country and frankly, it seemed a little boring around here. Ever since we spent Christmas at the homeless shelter a couple years ago, we said we’d go back. They were thrilled to hear from us, as quite a few of their volunteers had also been cancelled. Everyone’s Christmas was given a swirly.

Union Gospel Mission puts on a big Christmas dinner, and when you’re done eating you can cross the street to an ancient industrial building that is positively bulging with clothing and toys for their Christmas Distribution. It’s new stuff, used stuff, funny unnecessary stuff, hygiene kits and random food items, like cornmeal.

We got there shortly after nine to help with the last of the organizing, and after quickly stuffing some home packed wraps into our mouths for lunch, we braved ourselves for the rush of “shoppers”.

The Rush

Heath and I both had the job of escort, he for the men, me for the women. We were a bunch of volunteers, but us women could never keep up. You pair up with the first gal in line, wish her a brilliant Christmas and start in down the “route”

“Here, my dear, you may pick a jacket and a hoodie!” Some hesitate and need some options held up to them, the next one is gung ho and immediately starts pawing through the offerings. From there you drift past tables of shoes, where the oddest, sparkly sandals will grab someone’s attention, and proceed to the boring bath towels and soft fuzzy blankets. From there the ladies can have a heyday picking out miscellaneous items that include hairdryers, jewelry, deodorant, fake eyelashes and jeans, to name a few. After that it’s the pj’s, granny panties and unmarked bras (try squinting and fitting those on a random stranger). From there you could swing down the fuzzy sweater aisle, on to the piiiile of socks (CEO Eric had specially prayed for socks and we were inundated), then zip past the men’s section and out the exit you go, back into the cold. The mens side was much the same, minus a few items.

Every single personality type comes through those doors. I started out with a few black women who were an absolute blast. Two were serious fashionista’s, and one was Angel, a girl who I had met before while singing at the mission. She had just moved into her first home, had never done the Christmas thing before and was an total case. She loved all things chunky or soft, threw complete fits when I tried to give her eyelashes or lacy tops, and chose a lamp for her hygiene item. “I know that a lamp is fantastic hygiene”. She was so stoked we let her have a swirl through the toy section where she picked out an enormous teddy bear “so she could have a friend to scream with when she watched horror movies”.

I wasn’t sure what I was in for when the older lady I was paired with next jumped up and down and sang some jaunty bars of Frosty the Snowman. She was wearing a cap and a receiving blanket on her head and never did stop talking. “Tell me, IS my bag purple? Yes it is!” (hop, hop) “Oh, I want a purple jacket. Is this purple? Yes it is!” 🎵JOY to the world, the Lord is come🎵 (clap, hop) “hey, a purple bag! My eyes found the purple before your eyes”. And so it went. By then I was catching on that size or object didn’t matter, but color did. I also learned she had cancer, had partially lost her eyesight due to chemo and radiation, had quite nice hair coming back under her cap, “thank you Jesus”, that she had 9 grandkids and 2 great grandkids, she could feel angels buzzing all around her, mama didn’t like her to be out on the street drinking, but she was never cold, “honestly, I’m just WARM”, she vowed to the Lord (not promised, cause promises are meant to be broken you know) that she would be good after New Year. Now she would drink and curse a few times. “And Dear Jesus, please help me to find my sunglasses!” 🎵walking in a winter wonderland 🎵….”can I hug you?” Well, the Lord didn’t help her find her sunglasses, but Eric gave her two pairs to replace them, and boy was she tickled! “He gave me two for one! The Lord gave me two for one” (hop, hop). There was also a long earnest story telling, but sadly I could only catch a few words like cancer, I won’t die till the Father wants me too, I know the angels tell my granddaughter how to use my phone, I want to go home, I have a tiny bag packed with small, teeny diapers. Yeah, quite confusing, but I murmured and hummed and she thanked me for “bending my ear”.

During a small lull, some of us tried to reorganize the piles. I attacked the undies and desperately tried to make order to the 10 or so large boxes of mixed goods. I don’t know where that stuff comes from, but by all appearances it’s the goods that don’t sell in the stores. Most of it was new, but perfectly ghastly. We were having our jollies over it all and one volunteer said she’d been bringing a 70 yr old woman through who had looked at the piles of briefs, shuddered and said, “I am not wearing those. That’s what my MOTHER wears!” Another old lady came thru and crisply told me she wanted “T-backs”. We had quite a blast scrounging out a dozen or so fetching pairs.

I was getting fairly exhausted and didn’t really feel like hauling anyone else through, but there were only two ladies left in line and I decided to buck up. My guest was a middle aged Native American who was on her phone and looked totally stressed out. I wasn’t sure what she was doing, but tried to guide her as best I could through the coats. She seemed a bit determined to take as much as possible, and simply could not leave her phone alone. I could hear her say “gun shot wound” and other strange sounding stuff, and when her phone would ring the contact was Jail/My Baby. We shuffled along as best we could, slowly moving between tables. The volunteers were mostly done their jobs and had started their shopping. (It’s the pay) I was giving up trying to interest the lady in anything, and decided I would just ease her on out the door when she suddenly stopped and said “I’m sorry, my boyfriend was shot today and might not be ok”. And her whole horrible Christmas story came pouring out. She’s homeless, and all her stuff, including her ID got stolen last night. This morning her boyfriend got shot and since there was a warrant out for his arrest, they hauled him to jail instead of the hospital. He had a kid that needed taking care of, and she was almost beside herself with despair. I felt absolutely wretched for her. So we started the whole process again. This time we found everything she needed to exist, plenty of clothes, soap, deodorant, a brush, a decent hygiene kit with all the nitty gritty’s and everything else we could fit in her two bulging trash sacks. More people joined us to help her find warm clothes and we made sure she had a place to sleep. The mission has a temporary shelter. What a terrible Christmas for her! She hugged me twice, and I have a feeling she isn’t any more of a hugger than I am. I promised to pray, and you all are free to pray too.

It was getting dark by the time we left and we were hungry and tired. And blessed. Incredibly blessed. And I’m not just talking about all the jackets and socks we brought home. There were just under 500 people that went through, and almost everyone was having fun. The volunteers are a great group too, so it really was well worth it.

Even supper at the Cenex in Volga was delicious, so you know it was a good day.