I only work once a month at my church supper program, but last week’s volunteer shift left me wondering – What happens when the Earth’s angels become frustrated? What if they went on strike? Or worse, quit?
I’m not talking cherubim and seraphim. I’m not imagining some kind of Roma Downey or Della Reese-like heavenly messenger from the “Touched By An Angel” TV series.
I’m thinking of the real-life, kind, caring and compassionate volunteers who cook meals at supper programs or make beds for needy children or collect gowns so girls can afford to go to their high school formals. If you look hard enough, you’ll identify that one ordinary person doing extraordinary things.
For me, that earthly angel is Mary Jo Lightholder, who has been preparing and serving free meals five nights a week for the past 20 years in the basement of my church, Blessed Sacrament.
I was stunned last week when I picked up my ladle, ready to serve the chicken alfredo and broccoli pasta entrée, when Mary Jo stepped to the front of the room to address about 55 patrons. Usually, she offers some kind encouragement and recites dinner grace. On this night, her voice was trembling.
“I can’t tell you what a bad day this has been,’’ she said. It was not directed at anyone, just a release of frustrations.
“I do this job because I feel it is a calling, that this is what God intended us to do,’’ she said. “But we need to start treating each other with kindness and compassion and preserve what we have going on here.’’
Lightholder is usually a steely problem-solver who can negotiate with the local supermarket chain for day-old pastries in the morning, then in the evening stare unblinkingly at a 6-foot-5 homeless man who has been roiling patrons.
On this night, the threats to MJ’s program seemed overwhelming. Her crackerjack aide, Nancy, was away on vacation. All the requests for socks and soap, the petty quarrels among patrons, and the effects of alcoholism and mental-health challenges among the guests seemed to descend at once on Lightholder.
“I can’t tell you how frustrated I am with some of the people who are ruining what we work so hard to maintain,’’ she told her regulars.
She was addressing the issues from the previous night. Two guests had gotten into a dispute, and one was told to leave. He returned this night and began arguing with the staff about his rights. The police arrived to escort the man up the stairs and out the door. That’s what prompted MJ’s address.
“One of the hardest parts of my job is dealing with the knuckleheads who try to drain the positive energy from the room,’’ she shared later. “We just can’t let it happen, and the other guests are a big part of that too. They get really annoyed when they are enjoying a good meal and the opportunity not to worry about things for an hour or so, then someone tries to disrupt that. That is the community building we foster.’’
While some look down on this population, Lightholder treats guests with dignity and grace. Her staff follows her example, smiling as they serve from the buffet line, willingly bagging extra bread or pastries, making small talk and jokes about the sports team insignias on their clothes. That kindness is returned with a heartfelt thank you or a smile. The guests look out for each other and often carry meals to people who are ill or can’t walk the stairs.
“I have been here a long time and people love the familiarity of Nancy, Walt (door monitor) and me,’’ she said, “and many have learned not to trust a lot of people but they can trust us.”
About 5 minutes after MJ finished her plea, I heard a commotion on the far side of the room and spotted three men in a tangle on the floor. It was probably more of a wrestling match than a fight. Two guys got into a beef over a seat, and one snapped. Walt had the aggressor in a headlock.
I put down my ladle and played hockey ref, stepping in when both combatants were exhausted. I talked the one guy down without the need for a restraint.
“We’re done here,’’ I said a couple of times. “Let’s just walk away and be the bigger person.’’
It worked. My guy was apologetic and took his seat. Walt moved his guy away and remained at the table to play the monitor. MJ just sighed and continued her duties in the kitchen. Two days, two brouhahas. Later, the Earthly angel revealed her motivation.
“I lost my brother in 2002 to the streets – he lived on the West Coast – and all I could hope for him some days would be that someone would help lighten his load and be kind to him,’’ she said. “I continue to see his face in many of our guests who come in and he continues to inspire me every day.’’
Some days, it can be discouraging. When I walked to my vehicle two months ago with my daughter, the grumpy woman I had served an hour ago spotted us and muttered the F-bomb. She has mental health issues and talks loudly to herself. Twice the supper staff has arranged housing for her; twice she lost it to her caustic attitude.
“It never fails – once I have a difficult encounter with someone it is usually followed by a magical moment with someone who has been forever changed by our kindness. Or by someone brightening my day by delivering a most delicious apple pie to my door.’’
That would be me. After all she had been through, my PIE Network decided she needed a homemade apple treat.
Experience informs me you have take the good with the bad. The last time I left an apple pie outside the supper program door for MJ, it was stolen. Sigh. This time, I left it at her house.
Morristown native Jim Holleran is a retired teacher and sports editor from Rochester. Reach him at jimholleran29@gmail.com or view past columns under “Reflections of River Rat’’ at https://hollerangetsitw rite.com/blog/
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