The Sunday edition of our local paper ran a big article on me yesterday. Here’s a link to the story.

Saturday night we had one of those rare moments where someone volunteered to take our children for the night, so we decided to use the opportunity to check out the new Irish pub downtown. (This is why I love living downtown so much, we can walk to all the cool places.) We headed out and were halfway there when a homeless man in a wheel chair, with a dog, asked us where 6th Street was. “Three blocks that way,” I pointed. Turns out he was looking for the homeless shelter, which was quite a few blocks away. After we had given him directions and he started to wheel away Jim asked him if he was going to make it. He said “I hope so.” So Jim volunteered to push him for awhile.

We ended up pushing him all the way to the shelter. Jim wheeled him in the door and we wished him well, as we turned to leave we heard someone inside the shelter yelling at the man saying, “I told you to be here at 7pm. You can’t stay.” Feeling some responsibility now for this man, we went back in to try to work things out. Apparently this shelter has a strict policy: If you’re not there for the preaching, you don’t get to stay for the night (or meal).

After Jim was unable to get anywhere with the shelter, I tried to no avail. My stupid blackberry (luckily) took that moment to work and I was able to google and call the other shelter in town. When we found out they had room, we called the man a cab and waited for it to arrive so we could pay for it. The other shelter required that anyone staying with them blow a “0” on a breathalyzer and the man assured us that he could. I hope that when he got there, he did, and got to sleep somewhere warm that night.

Jim marveled at the exact timing involved… that we were walking by just as this man was crossing the street. I’m thankful for Jim’s willingness to help someone we could have just as easily walk right by.

I have to say, when I was in high school, I used to volunteer at that first shelter on Saturday nights. I don’t remember or didn’t realize their policy about not feeding people unless they were first there for the preaching. We work with a local nonprofit that supports 3 orphanages – 2 in Africa and 1 in Mexico. Their slogan is “Hungry stomachs have no ears.” How true. How can you hear anything anyone has to say when you’re starving… or freezing? How can the “salvation of your soul” mean anything to you when you’re too worried about making it through the night? I feel ashamed of those who wear Jesus’ name as a badge, but don’t act like him. I can’t help but think “Christians” are taking 1 step forward and 3 backward.

Last weekend Jim and I ran out to Doug Jones’ sawmill and picked out a piece of wood for my weekend project. I’d been hearing about Doug Jones for some time now and was really interested to meet him. He was exactly what I’d pictured him to be with neat white hair and teeth, flannel shirt and jeans. He spoke slowly with a deliberate drawl, in a smokey, gravely voice, warn from years of smoking. It was like meeting a cowboy from way back when.

So I spent Saturday and Sunday, sanding and polishing and my old piece of wood turned into my new bench. The legs were salvaged from an old coffee table I found at the Salvation Army.

Instructions: Readymade mag Feb/Mar 2010
Wood beam: $10
Legs: $2
Paste wax: $7

Sunday, I took a break from sanding and helped Jim set up the kids new trampoline. Eden has been relentlessly begging for a trampoline. Jim was adamantly against it, but she finally wore him down and he agreed to pay for half if she could save up the other half. I think he didn’t think she could do it, but in less time than you’d think she had amassed $150 and we had to go to Sams to buy the giant, bouncing monstrosity. Our backyard isn’t that big and since we already have the swingset, it’s being overtaken by kid stuff. (We start out parenthood so idealistically, thinking that our kids aren’t going to mess up our design style, and then one day, we wake up and our lives are filled with brightly colored plastic crap that makes casino-like noises… such is the life…)

I think I will always remember the moment that the trampoline was finished and we all climbed in for the first time, hysterically giggling and bouncing to our hearts content.