Jan-OnTrainMachuPicchu-2008.jpg

Winter is the cruelest season for the homeless. This blog, from last winter, was the very first I posted on this site. Since then the numbers of the homeless have grown, after several years of decline. New York City now has an estimated 61,000 homeless, the most in its history. A recent survey by the U.S. Department of Education gauged the number of children living without shelter or in crowded houses with two or more families to be nearly 2.5 million. That's also a historic high. I wanted to post this blog again to remind us all that those bodies huddled on the streets are people who deserve our compassion.

The woman sat on a rolled-out sleeping bag beneath the protective awning of an office building, just barely out of the cold winter rain. Her hair, brown and curly, seemed bouncy in a way that she did not. She was perhaps 30, dressed in jeans and a pretty, if frayed, pink fleece jacket. She might have been a backpacker ready to embark on a weekend camping trip—except that she wasn’t. 

Click here to read more

Posted
AuthorJan DeBlieu

 “I long to follow Mother Teresa’s example,” the woman wrote, “and perform some transcendent, life-changing act of service. I mean real selfless service when there is nothing in it but the act itself. But what action can I really take now? I have three young children at home demanding every minute of my attention. I can’t jet off to India to work with lepers or spend a month in an AIDS clinic in Africa. At the moment my calling is motherhood, and motherhood is my prayer.”

            It’s true: Motherhood is an all-consuming vocation, as is fatherhood. But though I found myself nodding in agreement as I read this lament (from Suzanne Oliver in the wonderful book The Faith Club), it also seemed to raise an obvious question. Can’t parents and children engage in service together?

Posted
AuthorJan DeBlieu

Renate Macchirole knew she had to do something. In her job as the director of our local Home Health Respite Care program, she kept meeting young men and women with intellectual disabilities. They were too old to be in school, but they weren’t capable of living on their own. So they lived with their parents, completely isolated from their peers.

Years earlier Renate had worked with similar young people at a facility in New York. You’ve seen some of these folks. They’re the ones that elicit double takes in public, followed by a quick turning of backs. The ones society normally keeps hidden away. But Renate has a special place for them in her heart.

Posted
AuthorJan DeBlieu

This is not the story I expected to tell you today. 

It’s Christmastime. I have way too much to do. My errands are each assigned a set number of minutes, and I’m trying hard to stay on schedule. It’s a mistake to live this way, I know. It leaves no room for the unexpected—and the unexpected is often where I find life’s most satisfying moments. But this is how I have to operate right now. I’m sure you know what I mean.

So I wasn’t planning to dawdle last week when I stopped by the grocery store for a few things and took a detour past the ultra-cheap Christmas trees to see if there were any I liked.

Posted
AuthorJan DeBlieu

Is it possible to oppose injustice with an open, loving heart?

 On an autumn morning in 2010, I joined a couple of thousand activists on a march through our nation’s capital to protest the unbelievably destructive coal mining practice known as mountaintop removal. In the past three decades more than 500 mountain peaks have been blown up so mining companies could get at the coal seams just below their surfaces. As we marched that day, people from different parts of Appalachia held up placards listing what has been lost: RIP Mingo Mountain. Destroyed: Workman’s Branch. RIP Pumpkin Knob. Cole Spur. Manns Knob. Looney Ridge Spur. And many more.

Posted
AuthorJan DeBlieu