Episcopal Church Women

“The time is always ripe to do right.”—Nelson Mandela, 1918-2014, South African anti-apartheid revolutionary, politician, philanthropist, and President of South Africa from 1994 to 1999.

by Kristen Pratt Machado

I have always loved to volunteer. I remember count­ing down the days of my third grade school year so that, as a rising fourth grader, I could start volun­teering at my local library. Oh how I loved putting the books back in their rightful spots on the dusty shelves and helping kids fill out forms to receive their first library cards. And don’t get me started on the joys of using the Dewey Decimal System through row after row of tiny cards housed in neat little drawers (yes, I was a nerd) to help patrons find just the books for which they were looking. I think most of us, especially people of faith, want to perform good deeds. We want to make a difference, but often, this idea that we don’t have enough time gets in the way.

As an adult, I volunteered in the intensive care unit at my community hospital, helping out the nursing staff. I ran races to raise money for breast cancer and diabetes research and cooked turkeys for families in need on Thanksgiving (as a vegetarian, this was always an adventure!). I enjoyed these little bits of ser­vice, and they were easy, as none of them put me out of my comfort zone. And then I was offered a position with a start-up company that required a 90-minute one-way commute – and my entire life changed. Be­sides immediately gaining 10 pounds, I suddenly had very little free time. I succumbed to the “I don’t have enough time” mantra and remain very self-involved.

I toiled along this path for a few years, helping build a new company, and I had my first child. Then, I really didn’t have any time. I had also lost the habit of churchgoing. I was so tired from the work week that I was no longer willing to drive 30 minutes to my church every Sunday. But God opened another door for our new little family and we joined a tiny church in a nearby town, St. Michael the Archangel Episcopal Church. At this church with fewer than 50 members, I found my way back to faith and serving others in small ways. Being part of a church community again helped me to reach the surface and gulp in air, but I was still far from taking the deep yoga breaths that truly looking outward provides.

A Move to North Carolina

When we moved to North Carolina, I thought, this is it! I will have more time, no more commuting! I hadn’t realized, though, how challenging it would be for me to get my footing in a new community where I knew not a soul. So I settled on donating blood—quick and easy with a big impact, right? The only problem was that I was terrible at donating blood. I have very small veins that are difficult to find. It would take even the most experienced phlebotomist several tries to get the needle in. After enduring the poking, I would have to pump my hand frantically during the entire dona­tion in order to get any blood to spurt into the vial. After one particularly harrowing needle stick, I ended my blood-donating career. But what was next?

I had a second child and adjusted to working full-time with two children under the age of 3. Fun times! I found a church that I loved and slowly became a more active member, but I was still stuck in the rut of “I don’t have time.” I was afraid to commit to much of anything for fear of feeling overwhelmed. As I was stuck in my “don’t ask me, I don’t have time” phase for the next few years, my church was changing as well. The vestry and church admin­istration found some funds to expand the po­sitions of our children’s and youth ministers to include formation, development, and outreach. The Rev. Katie Bryant, now the minister with Children and Outreach, got right to work. She came back to our parish with the news that the homeless population of Winston-Salem was not being fully served and we were going to help fill this need by joining a consortium of churches that was providing overflow shelters for those who were unable or unwelcome to access the traditional homeless shelters that operate year round (see sidebar on page 14).

Connecting with the Homeless

Whoa…homeless people? I am passionate about women’s and children’s issues, but I did not think I could connect with the needs of our city’s homeless population. I had, of course, seen homeless people around town. My most frequent response was to hold my children’s hands a bit tighter and felt completely uncom­fortable when we crossed paths.

But God seems to take great pleasure in making me feel uncomfortable and he kept bringing this outreach opportunity back to my mind during the most annoy­ing moments. I could feel this emphasis that yes, me—one who is uncomfortable around homeless people—should really just get over it. I really couldn’t shake this feeling so while I was vacationing over Thanks­giving I asked my Bible study group if they would join me in feeding 50 homeless people one evening in December. Then in my typical fashion (read my last column), I told Katie a different date than my group had agreed upon and I promptly forgot about the commitment until the day before we were scheduled to serve the meal. Awesome. So with help of several friends, my children, and my long-suffering husband, we did it.

We made 50 bagged meals and suddenly I was downtown, in the dark and freezing cold with two other moms and four kids. We warily-eyed the en­trance to the shelter check-in area that was surrounded by a crowd of rough-looking people encircled in a cloud of cigarette smoke. I was quickly volunteered to walk up to the front door to determine where to take the food. I did not want to do this with my whole body. I wanted to be back home in my nice warm house, with a hot toddy in hand. Ok God, I thought, I am here. I guess I can’t back out now. I considered trying to look tough, a ridiculous idea that made me laugh out loud, which helped me find my new ap­proach—super nice lady. I got out of the car, walked through the crowd, calling out “Good evening,” “Ex­cuse me,” and “How are y’all?”

Who is this crazy person? I thought. The one uncomfortable with homeless people, the one who wanted to be anywhere but here a few seconds ago. I have also never said “y’all” in my entire life. And then I noticed smiles breaking out among the guests waiting to get a meal and a night’s shelter, and shouts of “Let the lady through!” A path was cleared. After meeting with the evening’s organizers, I went back to get the kids and the other moms to start bringing in the food. When I opened the door to my truck, I realized I was smiling ear to ear. I took a deep yoga breath and told them, “They are ready for us.”

That evening as I proudly watched my six-year-old daughter and her friends offer bagged sandwich­es, oranges and bananas, and bottles of water to a long line of weary, cold people—young and old, black and white, women and men—I was overcome with emotion. These folks who had been outside all day and endured innumerable hardships seemed delight­ed to see children and cracked smile after smile. They were grateful for a very simple meal and to rest on the floor of a basketball gym. The tears flow whenever I reflect on this moment. We CAN make a difference. It does NOT take much. And yes, I do have time.

Rising to the Occasion

St. Timothy’s involvement steamrolled from providing and serving meals downtown to asking for volunteers to spend the night at these makeshift shelters held in the basements of churches really living what Jesus taught his followers to do—provide a shelter from the storm for those in need. When vol­unteers were requested to spend the night, I thought, “I’ll do the meals and help check people in, but I am never doing that.” Ha! And then the need was so great. This winter was the coldest that Winston-Sa­lem has seen in 15 years. There was not enough room in the operating shelters to serve all of those who needed a safe, warm place to spend the night. And so my church opened its own overflow shelter for the last 6 weeks of winter, providing between 15 and 25 guests with a hot meal and shelter each night. And I felt God again, steering me in the right direction, and suddenly I was signed up to spend two nights listening to our guests snore away, hopefully catch­ing a night of much needed rest before venturing out into the cold again. The staff and parishioners of St. Timothy’s rose to and beyond the occasion. With help from neighboring religious organizations—truly an ecumenical effort—St. Timothy’s helped society’s most vulnerable citizens weather a terribly bleak and cold winter.

Of course, in the whole scheme of things, this is just a blip. But I think in the hearts and minds of those who served and those who received, it meant much more. I know that I will never be the same. The amount of need faced by many across the globe is overwhelming, which can leave the rest of us ordi­nary folks unsure of where to start. But the fact is if each of us commits to doing good works, no matter how small, change is possible. When we stop falling back on how little time we have and start focusing on how little time it takes to make a difference, great things can happen. †

The author, Kristen Pratt Machado, is the executive editor of a monthly clinical journal serving dental hygienists and director of publishing operations for the journal’s par­ent company, Belmont Publications, Inc. She and her husband, Che, have two children—6-year-old Piper and 4-year-old Beck—and reside in Winston-Salem, NC. Pratt Machado is a member of St. Timothy’s Episcopal Church where she leads the Meals for Moms (and Dads!) Ministry and serves as newsletter editor and hospitality chair for the church’s ECW chapter. She is also a member of the Winston-Salem Women’s Fund, a community of passionate women creating social change.