Me, One of Al’s Gals? No Way!!

St. Coleman School, Pompano Beach, FL

I’ve always held the Joliet Franciscan Sisters (Order of St. Francis, OSF) in deep regard, even when I was in trouble with a good Sister, a frequent event from 3rd grade on. 

They ran, and still oversee, my grade school (St. Coleman’s, Pompano Beach, FL), high school (Cardinal Gibbons, Ft. Lauderdale, FL) and college (now University of St. Francis, Joliet, IL). Impressively, they just celebrated 150 years as a religious community. Their foundress, Mother Alfred Moes, got things started back then in ways she wouldn’t have been able to predict, I’m sure. 

Yes, I had considered joining their ranks, and went through several years of what I’ll call apprenticeship, but eventually I decided I’d be best not staying, so in 1973 we parted ways. I’ve kept in contact, and have several Joliet Franciscans who are my Facebook friends. I’ve participated in a few USF/OSF events. And, I’m humbled to admit, USF has twice honored me for my work with homeless persons. 

Mother Alfred Moes statue

So when I got word that DZ, aka Sister Dolores Zemont, the congregation president, wanted to speak with me this Spring, I had no idea what she’d want. Astoundingly enough, in my mind anyhow, she said they wanted to present me with their esteemed Mother Alfred Moes award. No way! (Event details)

DZ told me that they hadn’t made a mistake in choosing me. They wanted to recognize my decades of efforts working with homeless kids and adults. Sometimes, not often, I’m speechless.

I remember a bit about Mother Alfred. She was quite a gal. In fact, the Sisters are still fondly called “Al’s Gals,” indicating high regard people had for her and her followers. Besides countless accomplishments from her work in Joliet, she was also instrumental in starting what is now known as Mayo Clinic. (Legacy)

I don’t underestimate how my life changed back in the 1980s when I became involved with homelessness. As much sweat and blood as I’ve put into this unforeseen vocation, I’ve received much more from those I’ve met along the way who fall into the category of “homeless.” 

My talents and education have been put to use in ways I never imagined. My penchant for fighting for justice has been put to good use on more occasions than I would have ever imagined. My heart, while it’s been saddened and angered by the horrors of homelessness, has been happier than I could ever explain to those who don't get it. And I've received incalculable amounts of support of all kinds to help me pursue my unconventional HEAR US mission of giving voice and visibility to homeless children and youth. (My latest film, Worn Out Welcome Mat - Kansas, was just released!)

The only thing I can point to that I share in common with Mother Alfred is that we both taught at St. John’s School in Joliet, me way back in 1969-70. Ironically I taught under Sister Thelma, who endured a bruising year as my 8th grade teacher years before. I was shocked she hired me as gym teacher for her school.

I’m not going to argue with DZ. But I’m in search of ways that I can receive this honor in conjunction with all “Diane’s Pals,” my homies big and small who’ve taught me so much about what’s important in life…you’ve given my life more meaning than I could ever imagine.  May I have the strength and focus to continue working to make things at least a little bit right for you.

If you're so inclined and able, I'd encourage you to make a tax-deductible donation to HEAR US Inc. to support my ongoing work with homeless families and youth. You can do a one-time donation or become one of our treasured monthly donors. I run a frugal operation, and all our support is well used! Thanks!

Not My Problem Mentality vs. Compassion

Having spent more time in brutal winter weather zones this year than I have since I bolted out of Illinois in 2005 for my nomadic life under the HEAR US banner, I am getting the reality therapy that millions of others regularly cope with during these blasts of winter.

I haven't forgotten what it's like to gasp at the subzero temps that get bolstered by north winds. Well, I sorta forgot, but my trip to MN in early December cured my amnesia.

What lingers in my frost-bitten head, however, is the awareness that I have so much when it comes to options for escaping winter's brutality, and so many have so little.

My house-on-wheels, aka Tillie, is a fine way to live small, except for the extremes of heat and cold. Though I'm parked at my sister/brother-in-law's house in the mountains of western NC, I'm still sleeping in Tillie, Maybe it's just a meager attempt at solidarity with the freezing masses. I could sleep inside. But the discomfort of the cold mornings when I have to crawl out from the warm down comforter keeps it real for me.

I find myself wondering about the millions of households struggling to pay for heat in its various forms. I know even more households have scant protection from the various forms of "polar vortexes" that vex us. And then we have the millions of kids and adults with no place to call home. Sigh.

Solidarity breeds compassion. And for sure we need more compassion. How do we get that? Well, this recent post, Cultivating Compassion, offers suggestions. One in particular that I like is mindfulness:

Fortunately, we also have the skills to reconcile the old brain with the new. One of them is a technique that we call mindfulness—moment-to-moment awareness of thoughts and feelings. That is, we have the capacity to be aware of awareness, and to simply observe and become familiar with the tricks our minds play on us.

Take the cold as a practical example. Can mindfulness bring the realities of others' sufferings closer to our hearts? I'd like to think so. And it leaves plenty of room for action--whether it's donating gently-used coats to a local shelter, sharing soup with an elderly neighbor, paying a family's heat bill for the month, or being nice to a worker who spends too much time in the weather. On our HEAR US website, we have a Compassion Epidemic  section with all kinds of suggestions for extending compassion beyond your doors.

I'm more than anxious for winter to take a hike. But I'm trying to "woman-up" to the reality that chills my bones. I'm not suffering, but many do. My challenge--what am I going to do about it?