A piece of cardboard for a Veteran

Although my stint at Project Hope/Proyecto Hope only numbers a mere 370 days, and my experience in the social work arena is somewhat limited, I've discovered one invaluable outreach tool.

Business Cards.

Little symbols of hope in a client's pocket.

Signs that point to someone out there in the world who does, in fact, care.

Here's a little story about these tiny pieces of cardboard that seem to make the world go 'round:

I often take Exit 23, Charles Street, on my commute back to Providence from the good 'ole Bucket. Without fail, there is always a man standing at the end of an exit equipped with a large sign that reads, "I'm a veteran and I need help." His counterparts can usually be spotted at a few other major intersections around the city, like the light on Service Road Seven near Crossroads. Or the off-ramp near Stop N Shop on Branch.

Sometimes I try to dig around for spare change. It's the least I can do. A few weeks ago, however, I concocted of a dream that blasted my spare pennies out of the water. I thought, "Hey, self, there are so many resources available to Vets in this state. These guys don't need to be homeless! AND they are not alone." The problem: "How could I ever convey these facts while whizzing by in a line of traffic? Two seconds simply is not enough time to reel off the resources."

SO, in light of these musings, I made a move one day after spotting a pile of crisp, white business cards perched on my passenger seat. Swiftly grabbing a dollar from my wallet, I wrapped the business card up like a money clad present and handed to the young man poised near the stop sign.

Who knows what he thought. However, I definitely saw him do a double take.

I havn't heard from him yet, but I'm hoping my rectangular gift left him curious.

Next time I think I'll scribble a little note.

Here's some links to visit if you'd like to learn about services for Veterans in RI:

Operation Stand Down

Access to Recovery - For National Guard Vets

Vet Tech

Veterans Affairs

Pause: Time with a Liberian Refugee

Working near the Diocesan Office of Immigration, I'm frequently in conversations with clients from many different cultures. There are often moments during our exchanges when a client's hard-to-translate native adage or expression either makes me giggle...or deeply reflect.

Today's lunchtime visit to the Providence office was one such occurrence. I was preparing a mailing in the Immigration department, when I was introduced to a very gentle and humble refugee woman from Liberia. With her head hung low, she shared a tale about her last two weeks - the losses she had suffered and her fear of impending homelessness. With no family in the States, her two years outside of Liberia did not buy comfort or happiness.

When I found out that she did not have a car or bus pass, I asked if she could access transportation to a job far away from her single room rental in Providence, "Could you get a ride?"

"Someone will carry me," she responded.

I paused here. "Someone will carry me." My heart stopped. To her, that was a commonplace statement. To me, her words were packed with meaning. I found myself pausing to unravel the significance.

My contemplation spurred a thought: She was only sitting in this office, seeking help, because someone...or some force carried her. She was carried to our Immigration department's trusting hands by a hope-fueled vehicle, the most reliable transportation she has ever had in this country.