A Day in the Life, A Day in the Park
By Angelia Sims
"A new command I give you:
love one another. As I have loved
you, so you must love one another.
By this all men will know that you
are my disciples, if you love one another."
John 13:34-35
ove Mercy - I can't imagine a more complete term to describe the down and out, and my experience with them.
My visit to LOVE MERCY happened a few short weeks ago. I was invited by a friend to be part of Feed by Grace ministry, which is a division of Unity Park near downtown Fort Worth.
Unity Park is a fenced in area with trees, picnic tables, and the above pictured basketball court. The homeless can relax, be entertained, and have coffee or Gatorade during certain operating hours. There is a small one room concrete building that houses an even smaller kitchen and bathroom. This is where I gathered with many volunteers for a women’s spa day, a very special engagement.
This event was by invitation only. The director had selected twenty-five deserving women that needed some pampering; not that they aren’t ALL deserving, they are, but there were only so many spots.
I volunteered to work the nail station. Heck, I LOVE a manicure. It’s nice to be spoiled. To give that to these ladies was sure to be a blessing. Most of them had never had a manicure before.
Other volunteers arranged the lunch, and drinks. Also, a paraffin hand waxing station was designated. Three teenage boys arrived to be waiters. They were dressed sharply in nice shirts, ties, and slack – complete with a white towel over their arm.
These ladies were not just being given lunch. They were being offered the royal treatment; an afternoon of sheer pleasure and escape from all their worries. This was the similar to an Academy Award event: white table clothes, centerpieces, waiters, and gratification awaited them.
The first woman’s hands that I took in mine belonged to a woman named Beverly. I couldn’t begin to guess her age, but she told me she had three children (in their forties) that lived in Tulsa. I would have pegged her about sixty-five. She was a small woman, mostly skin and bones, but there nothing frail about her. She was tough. She was strong, wise, and determined.
She told me her story as I caressed her weathered hands. Her pride beamed as she described her grown children. Her brow furrowed as she detailed beating breast cancer, becoming a survivor, only to find out the cancer had returned. She was in crisis once again with her head held high.
She said she was going to get an apartment. She was going to get on her feet, but would not undergo chemo again. If this was her time, well then, she was ready.
I buffed a black spot on her nail, where she said a door had shut on her finger, as the black lifted away, she watched the stain disappear, and her pleasure radiated.
I smoothed the ridges, soaked the cuticle, trimmed, and polished her fingertips. She smiled when we finished; her nails had never been treated so well before. One last squeeze and she went back to the tables covered in cloth; to await lunch. Her courage in the face of her situation astounded me, humbled me.
Three more times, I talked, treated and tried to offer these homeless women a shred of love. The only kind I could offer, my service. Every one of them was sweet and grateful. They felt like princesses. After the nail station, two more volunteers were offering hand massages; then, they could move on to the hand waxing.
At first, some of the women thought hand waxing was the plucking of hair. We advised them it was actually much more pleasurable, some were brave enough to try it. I helped peel the wax from their hands. The exclaimed in glee as they felt their hands transformed to silk. The first thing they would do was touch their face, rubbing their soft hands on their skin, eyes closing in enjoyment; such a small thing, yet so indulging, and so beautiful to behold.
The lunch was served by handsome young boys; the women thought they looked like soap stars. They were star struck as they bashfully accepted a plate of food, a glass of tea, and a dessert. Giggling like school girls and shying their eyes away. It was so sweet.
As the luncheon came to an end, a woman behind me stood up. In front of twenty-five women and ten volunteers she told her story of being homeless, losing her children due to drug abuse, getting herself rehabilitated, getting her kids back and learning to live and work again. Then she sang from her heart, a lullaby, written by her mother when she was a small child.
The room was silent as her voice lifted and carried all the pain, heartbreak and the sheer will for a better life; it touched every soul. When she finished there was thunderous clapping erupted and tears were wiped away. She bared herself for all to see, in order for other women to have strength. She told her story to encourage them to rise up and be champions, what an impact.
They were pampered for now, but back to the street they would go: to sell their bodies, or miss their babies, look for shelter, or a bath, to an abusive husband or mate, and even to an addiction if they had one. Maybe this ounce of compassion could sustain them for a brief while.
Before the luncheon closed, the Feed by Grace director had one more surprise for the ladies. She brought out hand-knit hats and scarves, all unique, all made with a hue of brilliant color; knitted by a group of women that prayed over each thread. These women selflessly offered their talent for a stranger’s warmth and comfort.
The ladies were told the hats and scarves were a covering for them this winter, and not just for wear, but also for the prayer that the makers threaded them with; a covering of love and prayer. They also handed out purses filled with kits of useful things for a street person. Items we would trash, they treasure.
Lastly was the prayer locket. A silver chain hugging a heart that opens, inside you can put prayers, close the locket and wear it on your chest. Faith, love, and mercy – they can hold in their hand; something beautiful to fill their every aspiration.
As they departed, I hugged every neck I could. I tried to touch them as they had touched me. I held them tightly and prayed for strength and energy and heart to go forth with them. The woman that sang her song, I told her keep singing and keep telling her story. It would change lives, just keep shining.
Some people might say what a blessing I AM. To those people, I would say – the blessing was ALL MINE. I will never forget that day, not one second. I look forward to future outings with the down and out. I hope to continue in this mission as much as I can.
You might think, WOW, I wish I were like you. But listen, I am an ordinary person. A single mom with little resource. My only resource I can give is my heart, my time, and my service. If you knit, look for those opportunities, blankets, scarves, and hats.
If you can serve, find those places that need a hand. They are all AROUND you. Ask God to open your eyes to them. You will be amazed and blessed beyond measure.
Lastly, seek your compassion every day. Don’t shy away from what you don’t understand. Open your heart and receive. It will uplift your life.