Feeding the belly ... and the spirit

A number of mid-Michigan shelters offer a place for homeless people to sleep at night. That's great. That's necessary. But what do those people do during the day?

Or what about the working poor who need a support system during the day as they move toward what many of us think of as normal life? Where can they go to just "be"?

The Open Door Ministry in downtown Lansing's Central United Methodist Church is a day shelter for the homeless and working poor, but it feels more like a community center. The large dining hall in the church's basement is full of activity from the moment the doors open at 8:30 a.m. each weekday. Coffee, juice, pastries and listening ears are ready and waiting for anyone in need. There's no sign-in sheet. No one's required to show ID or proof of need. Just come in, have a seat, take a nap in one of the recliners or catch up with friends.


The most important thing Open Door Ministry seems to provide is a sense of normalcy. A sense of belonging. It's a place where someone can come in and take a shower, do a couple of loads of laundry, hang out.

"Some places, it's like they have a stopwatch on you from the minute you walk in," said Dave, a 59-year-old man who likes to draw. "It's like, 'Come in and eat -- and now, goodbye.' Here, it's not considered loitering. You can just come in and sit."

Think about how important that can be to someone living on the streets.

Cleaning up

The Capital Region Community Foundation's 2009 grant to Open Door Ministry helped put the laundry and shower facilities in place.

"There are probably 60 to 75 people in here each day," said executive director Cris Bobier. "We have sign-up sheets for the shower and the laundry, and they fill up fast."

Open Door Ministry began six years ago, growing out of an informal program Frank and Joyce Joranko helped create. It started as a place to come and have juice or coffee before the weekly lunch was served. "We had some people coming in regularly, but some were reluctant to walk through the door," Joyce said. "It took about a month for us to show people we didn't want anything from them, we just wanted to be here for them."

The number of people coming through the door grew, and the group outgrew its space -- a first-floor lounge next to the business office.

"It would get kind of loud," Bobier said. "We learned the more space people have, the less stress there is."

So they moved into the dining hall in the church's basement -- a large, wood-floored room with folding banquet tables and folding chairs. Donated recliners of all varieties sit around the perimeter of one side of the room. There's a locked room where more than 60 people can securely store their belongings. Adjacent space houses nonperishables and personal-care items. Nearby, a new front-loading washer and dryer are hard at work.

"Each person can do two loads of laundry," Bobier said. "We give them a two-hour block to do it in, so they're not feeling rushed by the next person, which causes stress."

A network of nearly 40 area churches help support the program, with volunteers and donations.

Meal time

Open Door Ministry is open from 8:30 a.m. to 4 p.m. Monday through Friday, On Thursdays, Open Door serves lunch. That's Vinh's department. He's a cook employed part-time by Open Door. But he's much more than that.

"We want people to come here not just for food, but for fellowship," Vihn said. "In this country, sometimes we give, but we don't teach. I really want to challenge people -- help them, but challenge them."

Vihn, who's also an ordained minister, grew up in a poor family in Vietnam. "My mom challenged me a lot," he said. He talks to people who get government assistance for groceries and shows them how to shop for healthier food that's still within their budgets. He encourages people to get their GEDs. He helps people connect with educational services, points them toward classes at the public library ... or tells them to just go in and read a book.

"I say, 'Learn about what interests you. Do you like elephants? Ask the librarian to help you find a book about elephants. You'll learn something new.'"

"Vinh is a really good cook," Dave said. "I've learned a lot about cooking from him."

Today, Vinh -- and several volunteers -- served more than 85 meals. That's a lower number because it's the beginning of the month, and people have a little bit more money. They'll serve about 130 meals the last Thursday of the month, as people's monthly checks run out.

"This program started as a guest/host kind of thing," Bobier said. "But there has been a paradigm shift. You can't be guest/host for years. It's like when you invite a new neighbor into your home for tea, and you're the host, they're the guest. But then they keep coming back and coming back. Suddenly, you're not the host and they're not the guest. You're friends."

It's all part of the "ministry of presence" concept Open Door Ministry believes in. Volunteers are on hand to listen. To be present. As the comfort level changes, those relationships change.

"My life has been enriched greatly by meeting the folks I have met here," Bobier said.

Making connections in surprising places

The Thursday meal is served on white restaurantware with a cornflower blue border. Silverware clinking on the plates gives the dining hall the sound of any restaurant at lunch time. Seconds are available if there are leftovers once everyone has been through the line.

Sitting down to eat after the guests have been served, volunteer Win Stebbins joined my conversation with Clarence, a single father who's originally from Pensacola, Fla., but has lived in Lansing for several years. Stebbins retired from MDOT two years ago, but he still joins the group of MDOT employees who spend many Thursday lunch hours serving a meal at Open Door Ministry.

"Even after I retired, I keep coming back to do this because it's such an important program," Stebbins said.

Clarence is taking classes at LCC -- studying computer repair and Spanish -- and he has a part-time job. When he hears where Stebbins retired from, Clarence offers that he once had an internship with MDOT. Suddenly, the two start talking about a project they both knew about: Clarence had done some work on the planning stages of the Ontonagon bridge replacing the old steel swing-span bridge; Stebbins was able to tell him how the project turned out.

Over a lunch of ramen noodles topped with ginger/garlic chicken mixed with celery, cherry tomatoes, pineapple and onions, two men from two different worlds sound like colleagues.

The backs of the volunteers' shirts say, "Welcoming all, listening with compassion, responding in love." I'd add to that "bringing humanity back to the human race."