He was at the door. It is not unusual for people to come to the door at Trinity Lutheran. For now, I will call him Bill. For it is hard for people to ask for help and privacy is needed. I’ve been there.

Losing a job used to be thought of as a personal fault, a failure. Something YOU did was wrong and the job loss was the consequence, just like my experience after college. I was not going to work at a bank. Not me. I had a background in Spanish and political science and a B. A. I was not going to be indoors in Cleveland, Ohio. I had to go out of town for training for another position. I would have been fired for calling off on a weekend and I did not trust my immediate supervisor… she didn’t have a degree and I did. Attitude?! I lied. Upon returning, I let the supervisor know I had not been sick. My consequence for lying: being fired. My father’s words were, “You brought this on yourself.” Loser.

And then later in life, even after masters degrees and seminary training and experience in ministry, no congregation was calling either my husband or me, both out of work pastors. We had 8 part-time jobs between us, two precious little girls and bills that couldn’t be paid. We had to ask our Bishop for help to pay some. That old tape of my father was playing the same song. Loser.

Shame is a fierce partner in our life’s journey. I’ve been there. Poverty is not something I would wish on anyone. I’ve been there too. So when Bill and others come to the door of our church, I pray, I listen and I am humbled by their bravery in asking for help.

Prescription in hand, ladder in pick up, Bill needed money for his medications. I prayed, I listened and I asked him to meet me at Giant Eagle. Four dollars later the meds were his. $20 for the truck kept that day going. And, using the “teach a man to fish” tactic I said, “since you’re a contractor, how about a bid on my house that needs work? If you do a good job, Lakewood is filled with houses needing the same carpentry, brickwork and painting as mine.” His bid was the lowest I received.

So, now we waited for the bank loan. It didn’t come. The same economy that disallowed my home loan disallowed Bill daily bread. My husband and I started an inventory of our assets. We squeaked through the contract finding pockets and emergency funds we never thought we would find. We may have ‘robbed Peter to pay Paula’, but we’ll catch up. We owe the bank nothing, are enjoying our ‘staycation’ at home this year, and actually will entertain friends.

Bill helped make a number of miracles on Marlowe happen. He found the Lakewood Christian Service Center and employed day workers: an out of work Catholic Youth Organization programmer, an out of work artist and Reiki instructor, a person with more than one mental health reality, a “green” painter/carpenter who protected my gardens and the bees, an unemployed laborer who did great work in carpentry and masonry. All got through part of the summer with the miracles on Marlowe.

Yet, the “it takes a village” to help one another reality went further. There was Bill’s connection with the pastors of Pilgrim St. Paul Lutheran Church. They are the ones with the Lakewood licenses, the high ladders and scaffolding, as one of them had put himself through seminary as a general contractor. But even bigger than this, dear reader, is the conversation those pastors had with me in my yard. You see the variety of Lutherans often have trouble being in conversation one with another. It is about years of debate over church doctrine and interpretation of Scripture among other things. But there in the Miracle of Marlowe we all stood together in assisting Bill (and the others) through whatever this economy has brought them.

I will keep forever this miracle on Marlowe as part of my memories of this village called Lakewood.