My comeback as a deliveryman of free beds was about an hour old when a 3-year-old cherub waved me into her living room and directed me toward the stairs.
Her eyes seemed as wide as saucers and her curly hair bobbed with each jerk of her head as she issued commands. I imagined she was about 3 going on 23.
“Come here, come here,’’ she called excitedly as she pointed to the stairwell. My crew was toting headboards, sideboards and bedding into the apartment. At that moment, her innocence stoked my flame for volunteering, boosted my faith in human kindness, cemented my appreciation for a community that lacks lofty socioeconomic status.
On this Saturday morning, the basketball game with all its trash-talking and my favorite golf course could wait. I had resumed my role with Sleep In Heavenly Peace as a deliverer and installer of beds for needy children. I have been a regular at bed builds for the past three years, but gave up deliveries on doctor’s advice during the pandemic.
SHP, now in its 10th year, is the volunteer organization with more than 300 chapters nationwide that has delivered about 125,000 beds to children who, through no fault of their own, must sleep on a couch, a sleeping bag on the floor, or worse, a pile of clothes.
We were short of delivery volunteers, so I answered the plea from Donna and Shawn Ritchie, co-presidents of the Rochester SHP chapter. The work immediately lifted my spirits.
“The kids are the best part,’’ said Donna, event planner for a Rochester philanthropic organization. “I want to take them all home with me. The kids are why we are doing what we are doing.’’
She admitted she was immediately attached to children like fourth-grader Quincy and second-grader Anna. When our trailer rolled up to their front door, they helped us to carry the bedding and tools inside. Soon, we put the cordless driver into Quincy’s hands and let him sink the lag screws that join the headboards to the sideboards. Anna tapped the pegs into the headboard so we could mount the top bunk. They helped us to lift a mattress over slats and arrange the sheets, comforters and pillows. Both felt empowered. Both were beaming.
“They love being empowered,’’ Donna said. “They’re doing something for themselves. They love it. I love it too. Teaching them how to use a tool and how to do something to help themselves is wonderful.’’
Our first delivery had not been so rewarding. We were greeted by a thankful mom. We stepped over loose flooring scattered throughout the foyer and walked into an unswept living room where clothes were strewn along the walls. An older man was burning incense to cover the faint smell of weed.
The mom showed us the room she had cleared for the bunkbeds, then began sweeping the living room floor and chatting on her cell phone. We finished in 30 minutes, then left as the mom thanked us graciously while the older man remained mute.
Our job is not to judge. Nobody chooses to be poor. Shawn remains undaunted by overwhelming poverty he sees during deliveries.
“It’s hard to wonder how they got there,’’ said Shawn, an engineer for an incline tram company. “I’m thankful for what I’ve got. I count my blessings and do what I can.’’
Shawn and Donna founded this ministry about four years ago. Donna manages the logistics of budgeting, fundraising, volunteers and delivery schedules. Shawn manages the building aspect – lumber, trailers, sites, tools and processes. They seemingly never tire.
“It keeps the fire going,’’ Shawn said. “You hope you are being a solution.’’
Donna maintains a similar attitude.
“It makes me sad for the kids,’’ she said. “This is one thing we can do – brighten the day for the kids.’’
Her day got brighter with each of the six stops. This was Christmas in September. She met five children at the next house, where we installed a set of bunks and a single bed. At the completion of the bed installation, she snapped a photo of the children sprawling on the comforters. They don’t realize they’re poor; they are squealing with delight over a gift so large and comfortable.
My gift arrived when I stopped for a slice of pizza on my drive home. The pizza maker spotted my red T-shirt and asked about the work SHP performs. Once I explained the builds and deliveries, he insisted on giving me a free slice.
It was a thoughtful gesture. My comeback was complete … for one Saturday.
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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