Our tiny Atlanta neighborhood is still reeling from a fire in an apartment complex about a week and a half ago.
It started with folks wondering about sirens and helicopters at 6:00 am and went on to news reports of babies being dropped from balconies into the waiting arms of fire fighters.
That was a lot of drama for Avondale Estates!
Sadly, the story is only beginning.
Together, we helped some elementary school kids get uniforms and winter clothes.
And then, today, an email about three sisters whose apartment was totally gutted. According to the message, they’re moving back in tomorrow with nothing.
Nothing.
A couple of phone calls and I had some more information.
One of the sisters was referred to as “challenged.”
All of them from “very humble beginnings.”
They had, literally, nothing. Except a kitchen table.
Which is an important place to start, but not nearly enough.
After a couple hours of a few folks raiding their basements, the sisters now have, in addition to that table, three chairs. Totally unmatched, but chairs.
Four place settings of dishes. Some miscellaneous flat ware. Three cooking pots and a few spoons. A mixing bowl and a pie plate. A handful of drinking glasses and a mug.
A collection of hotel toiletries. Three toothbrushes. A variety of paper products and a bottle of dish washing liquid.
A couple of pounds of rice. Some cans of tuna. A dried lentil chili mix and the tomato sauce that goes with it.
Not to mention, a quilt and a vintage chenille bedspread. A pillow and a handful of miscellaneous kitchen linens.
I expect there will be more by tomorrow.
Including, I hope, a few coats.
Will it be enough?
Of course not.
But when you look at what a handful of neighbors can do, in the middle of what is turning out to be a southern snow storm, there is hope.
Someone asked, while Bill was toting things up from the basement and I was washing linens, why it mattered to me.
The immediate answer is that, once upon a time, I needed people to give me stuff.
The bigger answer is that, as the old saying goes, “there are no others.”
And there’s an answer that’s even bigger than that.
We need to reclaim our concern for those around us.
Once upon a time, I needed people to give me stuff.
Today, I can give stuff to people who need it.
Almost all of us can, if we think about it.
And I can vote. And protest. And write poetry and make art.
And soup.
I can share my blessings.
Someday, people will need what I’ve learned to give.
What we’ve learned to give.
We need each other.
We need hope.
Also, snow plows.