AIDS

Tonight I met a man who works in client services at Chattanooga Cares, the HIV/AIDS support entity for Hamilton County. Every day he helps AIDS sufferers through life--getting to the doctor, paying for utilities, keeping daily existence together.

Talking to him reminded me of the AIDS support charity in San Francisco I visited in 1996 on a domestic mission trip. First thing that strikes one like a whack to the head: the charity was losing clients at the rate of more than 100 a week. The dead. And another whack: as fast as those clients died, new ones replaced them. New cases of AIDS. Should we say, filling the pipeline? No, but that was the effect. The horror of the thought that a hundred people a week were entering (at that time) the path of doom that was AIDS, just on the rolls of that charity. I have no idea what the total number of new weekly cases was in the 1990s.

I liked working at that place because the premise of the charity was "help to the end." The organization collected fresh produce and healthy packaged foods to deliver to AIDS sufferers. The gentle woman who oversaw the kitchen showed me how to fill a paper grocery bag from a fixed list of foods so that each client would receive the gift of a healthy, balanced diet for a few days. The celery stayed in my mind. Fresh, crisp celery. One big bag per customer, set it on top of the whole-grain pasta. Most of the clients got a grocery bag or two every week on Thursdays. I was not able to deliver any groceries and did not meet the clients. The reason was privacy, and it seemed fair to me.

A man who was volunteering the same day in 1996 told me that he lived in the city, had been able to retire early (he looked sixty-ish) and came to help a couple of days a week for four hours at a time. He didn't say much about why, just that he wanted to help. He liked what he was doing, and that was enough. We were there two days after Christmas. He didn't say anything about that either.

It's time for me to think that way again. I am not busy with my own busyness because I have to be. I am doing what I choose to do. I start my stuff early (most of the time) and work late. I meet the obligations I have accepted. I don't seek out the joy that comes from helping the helpless. My priority list is filled with what I want to do for myself. I miss that joy.