A story from this week by John Rich:
Monday began cold, snowy, and icy. It was going to be a tough morning. Several staff members were out—illness, family emergency, out of town, unable to travel because of the weather. We had two volunteers who were able to get out and willing to come in and serve coffee and snacks from the kitchen. Everything else was up to me. I didn’t think we could open the food pantry or offer showers to our guests. I knew they would be disappointed. I also knew that we’d been having some difficult behavior issues with some guests recently, and I wasn’t enjoying the thought of trying to deal with those without much backup.
We opened the doors. I announced to everyone that we were short-staffed, so they’d have to be patient and we would offer what we could, but it probably wouldn’t even be most of what they were expecting. It did not start well. Shortly after opening the building, I found someone rooting around in the kitchen to find something when I had specifically told everyone not to go in the kitchen. Grrr.
Then things started getting better. I asked people to come into the office one person at a time to get any socks, hygiene items, and over-the-counter health supplies they needed. One by one, they came in, told me what they needed, I handed it to them, they thanked me, and then went back out to the main room to continue drinking their coffee. It was all surprisingly smooth and quick.
I announced, “Okay, that went really well. We’re going to offer showers for anyone who wants one. Again, come into the office one person at a time and we’ll see how many showers we can get through.” We got through EIGHT showers—five men’s and three women’s. Everyone there who wanted a shower got one.
Even though I had said that the food pantry was closed, one woman said she desperately needed food. I felt like things were going well enough that we could try to get her a referral and fill her order if she was eligible. I made the call. Unfortunately, she wasn’t eligible. We still gave her some bread, snacks, and a list of other pantries that didn’t require referrals. Another gentleman told me that he had come in for a food order, but realizing how short-staffed we were, he said he could come back tomorrow for it.
People were genuinely patient all morning, adjusting to a difficult situation and working together to get as many needs met as humanly possible. It truly felt like, well maybe not a “well-oiled” machine, but a group of people looking out for each other—and me!—to “create community” at Patchwork Central.
Toward the end of the morning, one of our regular guests, a young man who is usually very quiet and reserved, came up to me and said, “John, I want you to know that we all really appreciate everything Patchwork does for us. Thank you.” He offered a gently raised fist. I bumped it with my own. He gave me a knowing nod and walked back to his seat.