December 3, 2002

Dear Friends,

Christmas is a bit difficult. Our families are in the U.S. and we miss them especially at this time of year. Also, the month before the holiday tends to be very hectic. Arch is finishing a school year, with exams, final papers, graduation, etc. My colleagues are busy arranging Christmas parties and I'm involved with selling crafts, planning meetings, and the start-up of a new project and my departure from an old one. But today I felt like I participated in a very special Christmas celebration.

Lately I've gone once a week to our drop-in center for street people. I'm there just to observe and talk with the people who come to wash clothes, take showers and relax together or apart, as they choose. Rita is usually there. She has participated in the project for a long time. She's about 40 and suffers, they say, from schizophrenia. A few weeks ago she was physically attacking a young man when I intervened. I said she couldn't go on hitting him with the broom and asked why she wanted to. She responded that he had said that she was ugly. I said that she didn't need to take seriously anyone who lied. Then she cried. The young man found it convenient to make himself scarce, and she recovered quickly.

Today when she greeted me she was very happy. She had participated in a project with our paper recyclers and had produced two Christmas cards of recycled paper. She offered to sell them to me. I considered them very carefully and agreed to buy one. I paid her the requested 30 cents. She almost flew up the stairs to tell the group coordinators that she had sold a card, and she radiated happiness for the rest of the afternoon. I never spent 30 cents so pleasurably—except later in the afternoon.

Upstairs I was discussing last Saturday's planning meeting for the project with the coordinators. I am concerned about Flávio, also a long-time participant in the project. He's had a bad year. To top it off, recently his identity documents were stolen, which makes him particularly vulnerable to police harassment. One of the coordinators is helping him to replace the documents, and we agreed that we need to help him get a notarized copy to carry with him at all times. The project can keep the original safely on file. Street people have no desk drawers for the protection of precious things, which, like the people themselves, are frequently subject to robbery.

Flávio had made Christmas cards too, and when I descended again to be with the people, someone suggested that he show them to me. I exclaimed over them, examined several and asked, if he would be so kind as to sell me one, since I was sure that I had friends who had never received a specially hand-crafted Christmas card that was even made of recycled paper. This 40-year old, almost toothless man responded with an assent and a smile that illuminated the area. His friends were awed that he sold a card. I floated home. And on the way I passed an elegant store that sells presents. In the window there are many examples of beautiful things—one that catches the eye is a lovely vase that costs over $100. Inside, there was a well-dressed customer talking to a clerk as I passed, and I almost went in to try to sell her Christmas cards for 30 cents that would surely give as much pleasure as any item in the store. I wish that I had gone in and tried.

May you have the peace and joy of this special season,

Linnis

The 2002 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 31