I'm not Mother Theresa. It's super easy to get my stuff to the homeless because all I have to do is take it to work. The ease of it just makes me feel guilty and lazy. I doubt I'd think about homeless people if Deacon Joe didn't make his rounds to them. He recently told me that the battered women's shelter in Cleveland turns away 60 women a day. "A DAY!" I can't get this out of my mind.
I've tried a number of times to write something motivational about this subject. Let's do something! Let's make politicians accountable! The problem with what I keep writing is that I keep sinking into dark thoughts of women and children I've known that didn't make it through the violence intact, and in some cases alive. It's hard to be optimistic under the burden of these memories.
I saw a boy on tv who has a remarkable memory. He can tell you all about every day of his life. He admitted that there's a down side to that kind of memory. He remembers all the good he's experienced, but also all the bad. My memory isn't as detailed to the day like his, but I can relate to the ups and downs of remembering. Sometimes it takes a lot of force of will to push myself to think of something else.
Then I'm torn. Should I talk about sitting on a porch in the Pennsylvania mountains, sheltered from a torrential rain storm while I stayed warm and dry, laughing with friends? I can pull up other happy memories that would let us all go about our day with pleasant thoughts. Or, should I be single-minded like Deacon Joe? He never passes an opportunity to make others think about homeless people.
I can't help 60 battered women a day, but together we can make a difference. What would it take for you to help them?
Google "battered women's shelter" or "domestic violence center" and you'll find places that need your help. Give them stuff, money, or time. Here are some links for places near Cleveland...