Humanitarian Embarrassment
A colleague at my place d’employ has new neighbors. I have known this colleague through working with her at two separate companies since 1990. We aren’t best friends, but every now and then we jointly remember the “good old days” when we were both much thinner.
Susan comes to me for any gay-man question that pops into her mind. “Do gay men like beer?” (I don’t know, I’m not a gay man…and they are all different.) “Why do all the gay men at the gym have such great bodies?” (Probably because they workout at the gym.) I want to say she cracks me up with those questions, but she is serious. And she has a postmortem crush on Freddie Mercury.
Everybody gets new neighbors. Susan’s should open our eyes. They are Somalian refugees.
I do not know the circumstances that brought them to Zion. But whatever the circumstances were, they came with nothing. Of course, living in a refugee camp for over a decade, they probably had nothing that we Americans would consider valuable anyway, except each other.
Susan has started a “help my neighbors” campaign at work. And I am embarrassed that I didn’t open her emails until today. She started asking everybody for help four or five days ago. I assume she knows what it is like to depend on the generosity of others. Susan has MS and her disease has major and severe flareups from time to time. She is single and lives alone. However, she has developed a network of support for herself.
But what about these new Utahns who have not yet developed that support; who need everything and know very few people? I hope that the local mosque has the equivilant of Mormon home teachers. But for now, Susan has become their support network.
And I am embarrassed. My first thought was that I have an extra 13-inch television sitting in the den, not even plugged in. I can certainly donate that. A television…embarrassing. This family needs shoes and winter coats and food and bedding and cookware and soap. SOAP. And my first thought was a spare television.
So this weekend I will give my spare bedroom/storage room a cleaning out. I’m sure I can find early childhood books that will help the little ones with English skills. And some toys that were used once or twice, and then forgotten. And maybe some snow boots that haven’t quite yet made it to Deseret Industries.
And as I write this on my laptop with a wireless internet connection, watching satellite TV on my DVR, drinking Merlot, and warming up my bed under an electric blanket, I vow to be grateful. Grateful for a wonderful daughter. Grateful we have health and home and peace. Grateful we have books, and socks, and food…and soap.
Filed under: Life Lessons, Place d'employ
