Our q**ker congregation has a process called "afterthoughts". After the meeting, people stand up and share whatever they want to share with the congregation, when somehow they don't feel like it's actual ministry straight from the Holy Spirit (in which case you share right in the middle worship, and feel free to quake, too). So the other day, I had actually been to volunteer with my friend, and had been very impressed. This is the best run drop-in I have ever seen! It's held in the hall of a catholic church. It's attended by hundreds of folks who look forward to it every week.
The volunteers lay up an enormous banquet made of whatever the surrounding shops give us for free + we have a budget to complete with things that people like (pizza, mostly) + the little old ladies always bring lovingly crafted cakes and extra delicacies (like expensive sweets and chocolate), with the result that our banquet table looks better than a freaking wedding.
In the room, there are games of pool and table-tennis and the catholic church lends its kids' games (they've got lots, and the kids love it). Various services have been invited to set up a table in the room too. So there's the association that teaches computing skills in one corner, they set up five laptops with free internet access. There is the National Health Service in another corner, there to inform people about their right to FREE health care at the point of need, no matter who they are and how to get that. There is the employment service (JobCentrePlus, that sends specially trained staff to help refugees enter employment). There is a specialist for asylum seeking applications (she deals with Section Four, which is a sum of money you can claim while applying for asylum) and various other associations. Because there are almost too many volunteers, we make tea and coffee for about ten minutes, and then go about in the room to have a piece of cake (and ward off the marriage proposals).
On the human side, I was really impressed with my friend. You know, I had been rash to judge her as a posh lady who had trvalled around the world doing good to poor people with her husband. I didn't think she'd be all that great (in my simple mind posh and older = not good). And she's A-MA-ZING. On the whole she's got a very small pension, which is half what my Ph.D. was. Turns out she gives a huge part of it away to people at the drop in who have no resources at all. She pretends it's from us (the q**ker congregation) while in fact, I'd be surprised if we gave more than ten quid on any given Sunday -members give to their own preferred charity, or even to the q**kers, in private). Of all the volunteers, she is the one who knows everyone by name, and knows their story too.
Quite a lot of the people who attend have escaped brutal wars. One woman in particular has been raped and has lost most of her family in the Somalian conflict. When she arrived she was very very broken. But her kid loves playing with the other kids, and so she keeps coming. As I was there, she asked my friend whether she would take her and the kid to Newcastle to do kids activities, and to have tea and cakes somewhere. My friend volunteered her whole saturday and started making plans. It's inspiring to see how much the woman wants that kid to be happy. The kid is a drop-dead beautiful little girl. Yay for human love!
So the other day in afterthoughts, I popped up and said all this. I said you know those five quid you leave in the collection box every week or so. We always support the same charity and isn't it boring after a while? Well I'll tell you what happens to them. They will be given directly to someone for them to buy food, toiletries, and charity-shop clothes. I talked about the drop-in and how it worked, just generally, for two or three minutes.
Five minutes later, the collection box was full of banknotes, and two women -shy ones who could use some company- were going to start volunteering there the next week. My friend wiped away a tear: "you know they're tired of me telling them the same thing every week. You said it in such a fresh way...".
No comments:
Post a Comment