Poverty is more than a lack of money

I've recently been getting eight or ten calls a day on my cell phone from a number in Utah. I don't know anyone in Utah and all any of the voice mail messages tell me is to return their call. I don't respond to numbers and messages as unfriendly and mysterious as that.

When my phone rang this morning and the number showed Hawai'i, I was pretty certain that it was someone associated with the Utah callers and I didn't answer. A couple of hours later, I listened to the voice mail, and heard an anxious woman's voice asking for information on funeral assistance. I wanted to kick myself for not ignoring my aggravation at the previous calls in order to be available at the time of this call.

While dialing the number in Hawai'i, I wondered what I had to offer a family several thousand miles as well as across the Pacific ocean. A very quiet voice answered the phone. The woman explained that she needed to know what "kind of funeral help" we offer. I asked her about the circumstances of the death and she began to tell me about her several month old infant who suffocated. The infant stopped breathing and was resucitated. She is on life support (ventilator) and without mechanical ventilation, she will die; her systems have closed down and the damage is irreversible. This family has decided to let their little one die with dignity and with all of them with her as all forms of life support are removed and she peacefully passes from this life to the next.

Ten years ago, when this funeral home was not even a thought yet, an elder encouraged me to halp Native Americans transport their deceased family members home for burial. Traditional funeral home costs were far greater than most people could afford. This work continued for a number of years while the entire scope of denial of services, insensitive treatment of poor families, poor quality merchandise, and lack of respect were what many family members reported as the standard. What they could finally count on was transportation of the body with dignity and respect and a modest contribution toward the cost of that transportation when it was outside of Minnesota.

The grieving mother with whom I spoke today, did not share her financial situation with me. I know the area on the island where she lives and that's about all. I believe that she does not have much financially. I also believe that she feels the pains of poverty: the loss of a child, the need to ask for assistance, the guilt at not being able to provide without help.

In a sense, I felt as if I was hearing Mary, the mother of Jesus, as Joseph of Arimatheia offered her a tomb for Jesus' body as it was removed from the cross. Poverty, whether it comes from low income, grief, insecurity, depression, or whatever, leaves us vulnerable and often in pain. We never know when we will encounter the poor or how we might encounter them. We do know with great certainty that we don't have to look far nor seek them out, for they are in all the places that we are. They are fellow worshippers, individuals walking down the same sidewalk, taking their kids to school. They are men/women, young/old, all races and creeds.