The 'cold' lessons of life
By John Mohan

As a high school student, I had a part-time job at a fast-food restaurant on Moose Jaw's South Hill. After that, I worked my way through college in two retail stores. By the time I graduated and ready to move into a pastoral career, I didn't want to ever eat deep-fried chicken again or go shopping between Halloween and New Year's. But there were also unfortunate lessons about humanity.

Finding empty packages on store shelves was evidence that some people are capable of stealing. Experiencing verbal tirades from customers showed some think they're entitled to be abusive to others who are overworked and underpaid simply because they're employed in a store or restaurant. Inane questions like "do you work here?" to staff wearing big nametags and ugly uniforms as they unpack store stock shows our capacity for not grasping the clearly obvious. In the hospitality and retail industry, it's easy to see that part of society is severely broken.

But there are also signs pointing in a different direction -- that signal people have the capacity of doing amazing good. Such as the retirees who faithfully volunteer their golden years to non-profit agencies. The school children who invite friends to their birthday parties but ask them to give money for the homeless instead of buying a gift. The examples go on and on and include those we'd consider least able to contribute.

Just a few years ago Siloam Mission operated from a small converted restaurant on Main Street with maximum capacity of 55 people.

Even at that size we were one of the major meal providers for Winnipeg's less fortunate. The dining room was usually packed and people formed long lines outside the building even on the coldest of winter days for a meal.

One December saw a prolonged period of bitterly cold weather but people still came and patiently waited for their turn to get into a warm building and have a hot meal.

On one of the worst days of that cold snap a more complicated problem arose as people who were inside understandably became less and less willing to head back outside. This meant others were waiting outside even longer. Knowing that many coming through our doors didn't have anywhere else to go, we never told people they had to leave while we were open. But we did remind the packed room of the long outside line, the cold weather, and that others also needed an opportunity to be inside. There was immediate movement as some left so others could enter.

Among those leaving were James and Sherry.

Sherry was wheelchair bound and James was her partner and doting caregiver. He fed, bathed, and transported her. Most of all, he protected her. While I noticed their exit, I didn't think much about it, assuming they would probably go back to the rooming house where they lived.

About 45 minutes later Sherry and James re-entered the building. They had made a decision to give up their spots for others even if it meant going back out to the notorious Winnipeg winter, starting at the end of the line, and eventually making their way back into a warm building.

It's a lesson that I'll never forget -- and more than makes up for my high school and college lessons.

Originally printed in the Winnipeg Sun, Wednesday, November 5, 2008.
Reprinted with the permission of Sun Media Corporation.