After a numbing 2-hour meeting this morning, and after the hour-and-a-half drive back, it evolved that one of the social workers couldn't find a cleaner for a certain client's apartment, which is piling up with garbage. He's used to living outside, camping, being "free," but now he has a terminal illness and lives in Fort Bragg's only single-room occupancy building, and he lets the trash pile up. And he is in danger of being evicted. So my colleague went and bagged up unidentifiable items for an hour.
Just before I left for the day, another social worker stopped by my desk with a black plastic bag. "____'s clothes. You want to wash them or shall I throw them out?" Our friend with the previously-maggot-infested feet had gotten wet in the rain and she had given him dry clothes. I took the wet ones home.
Just this week Frank had reminded me of the verse in the New Testament about what we were supposed to do to help "the least of these" -- "...hungry and you fed me, thirsty and you gave me drink..." to which I silently added today, "...dying and you cleaned my apartment, incontinent and you did my laundry."
We held our noses, but we did it. For today, that was enough.
1 comment:
Gracie's jealous!
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