This is unexpected, I thought. I came to the Shelter to help cook for the
hundred or so people expected that afternoon. Granted, I was shamed into guilt for not
acting on good intentions. I stood,
gazing toward the far end of that small kitchen. I felt as contrite as a little boy whose
mother had baked him sweets despite his slothfulness in doing something for
her.
So, here’s what happened. Weeks before, my wife, Stascia, and I were
making arrangements with another family concerning our kids. The other family’s schedule conflicted because
they were going to help out at a place called Inner City Night Shelter.
My wife is an educator. She helps people every day by just having a
conversation about a personal issue or helping someone attain an educationally
related goal. The family to which we spoke helped feed
people trying to get their lives back. Me,
I give to causes. I write about
causes. My articles support those on the
ground doing the work. There is a need
for those types of things, but I am not on the ground with them. In this sense, I am removed and impersonal to
those whom I am ultimately trying to help support. My perch has me away from following the
timeless principles of a more personal presence like visiting, serving, and
helping to bear a burden. My more “physical
presence” efforts were sporadic and far… very far between. So,
there I was defenseless against words that really weren’t directed at me or meant
to cause conviction. People were just
talking.
On Saturday, March 15, 2014, I
arrived at Inner City Night Shelter, Arnold
St, Savannah, GA. The shelter provides services
for men and women. Individuals can spend
the night, take a shower, and have a meal.
Through transitional services, the shelter provides help into a more
stable situation. This includes helping former
inmates as well.
I took a moment to look around
the room. The door was about ½ meter
behind me to the left. A walk-in
refrigerator and a walk-in freezer made the wall directly behind me. White cabinets lined the walls to my front left
– doors up top, drawers and doors on the bottom topped by a counter. The counter had a sink in it. A stainless steel table stood in front of
me. To my right, there was a gas stove
with a hood. Next to the stove was a
small sink. About six steps away, on the
far wall, was a three-basin stainless steel sink with a commercial dishwasher
to the left of it. And there I was,
staring at the dishwasher, dumbfounded and undone by what should have been
obvious. That is, in this one place, as
in many other places, there are many needs.
Those needs range from something as simple as putting a sandwich on a plate
to something more complex that actually required a philosophically dyed in the wool life-cycle asset manager.
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| Dishwasher All Shiny and Back In Action |
I walked over to do a visual
inspection. The detergent lines were
cut. I figured the device wasn’t
working. The Shelter is not a place to
just let something that works go unused. Someone had probably used the lines to serve
another need. I asked some of the other
food preparation team members about it.
They said it had been broken for some time. The team introduced themselves and went to
work preparing sandwiches and a hot meal.
They told me to connect with the center’s director, Yvonne Pryor. The machine would have to wait until we were
done preparing food.
Later, Ms Pryor and I spoke
about the dishwasher. She had planned to
purchase a new one because of the information she received that it was better
to buy a new one. We made arrangements for
me to come back and troubleshoot the machine.
A couple of weeks later, Ms
Pryor and I looked at the dishwasher again.
She helped watch the detergent pumps to see if they were all cycling
while I watched the camshaft that controlled the pumps, listened for solenoids,
and checked the hot water pressure. I
hadn’t been able to find a service manual for the ten to fifteen year old
machine. Yet, there was still a certain
amount I could tell about its operation.
The hot water flowed. The water
pumped worked. The camshaft turned. The detergent pumps cycled. The water drained. Granted, without a manual, there was no way
of telling if every cycle was correct. But,
it did not look like Inner City Night Shelter needed a new one. From previous research, I saw that parts were
still available. Only a minor repair was
required. What Ms. Pryor needed was an
economical, simple, and self-sustaining method that maintained the machine,
trained the staff, helped with continuous health department certification, all in
a manner that was basically effortless for her to manage. Without going into
the detail, that’s what we accomplished.
· Writing
about causes and helping to support those on the ground in places I cannot be
present are still very important. I continue
to do them. As they say, the rub is the
commitment to take the time to be present where I can. In the hustle of taking care of family, of bridging
a strategy to results that generate revenue, of filtering the noise to meet a
customer’s needs, of writing, posting and supporting the next blog post, of
marketing my novel, of just hustling from one moment to the next in a calm and
collected manner… how do you turn good intentions into physical presence at a
place that serves others. Those already
on the ground need more team members. As
in the case of Inner City Night Shelter, it
may require physical tasks and your professional know-how.
