Hot days in the summer

Even at 1800 feet it is now 81 degrees out. Vermont will have hotter temperatures than Florida. There is something wrong when Vermont is in the 'red' zone on the weather map.

I am in a total do-nothing frame of mind. Actually, the mind is not even engaged today.

Perhaps this sluggishness is a delayed reaction to the CREDO week with the clergy of Haiti; perhaps is it delayed reaction to the spring; perhaps it is the knowledge that I will not be going to El Salvador in three weeks as I had hoped to. For whatever reason, my focus is nill.

There are a gazillion things to be done. No doubt about it. But not now. There's a hammock outside and despite the heat, there is a slight breeze.

But one thought I have been chewing...

As of 30 June, the church I serve has helped the same number of people as it had last year by 1 November. We are that much ahead in the calendar year. And the stream of seekers is never-ending. We are across the street from the bus station and they logically come to us first. We have a set of procedures that involves sending them to a clearing agency. Some people accept that process; most do not. We keep a spread-sheet of whom we have helped because there are some 'frequent fliers' who will call up, not leave their name but want to speak with me thinking they can get around the process. I am getting to know them by name.

Whether it is the semi-hysterical 20-something or the 71 year-old, the stories are different, but the needs the same: food, housing, jobs. Some want flat-out hand-outs, others want to keep their dignity by offering to work.

Why is this flow of people so numbing? And why do I have a harder time with it here than in El Salvador? I don't really have any good answers other than I expect this sort of poverty in El Salvador (or Haiti or Guatemala or...) where the system is more broken. But should I realise just how broken our system is?

Yes. The residents of the city where I now live voted against extra funding for the local bus that gives people on very limited income transportation; against extra funding for the battered women's shelter; against a proposed youth center; against extra money for the community cupboard; against extra money for mental health services, but did vote to add money for senior services. When these votes came through, I groaned because the message was clear: let the churches and other non-profits pick up the slack.

Yet we, too, are like Hans Brinker, doing what we can but not nearly enough.

I think being on the front lines in this way is probably the hardest aspect of this vocation. I still am not at peace with it. I doubt I ever will.