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A Personal Experience Helping a Homeless WomanSupport Dorothy's Place, www.dorothysplace.org/
Cynthia was introduced to me by a kind generous collector friend of my Work, Elena Mchone . We met by chance standing in line at a Jack in the Box in Marina. Elena who was moved by the plight of a lady, talking to herself out side the restaurant who was cold , hungry and alone. She invited her to a meal, gave her some new clothes she had just purchased for her daughter and some cash even though she was unemployed herself. I joined Elena at her table and she said she was not alone and proceeded to tell me of a homeless lady who was in the restroom putting on some of the new warmer clothes Elena had given her. I gave Elena a hug and said what you are doing is kind, caring and admirable. Elena said with a tear running down her cheek, "I can not turn away from someone in need. "
 Elena caring was contagious and when Cynthia joined us I invited her to my home for a few days to have Thanksgiving dinner with my two boys and myself. It was my intent to help her find her two sons she said she was searching for and provide her with transportation to their home. I was not aware of the time of the extent of her mental condition and delusions that would make that near impossible. Cynthia was like a frightened lost soul. I suggested that Elena drive Cynthia to my home to ease the transition and I would give Elena a free lesson as an All Truism award for being so kind. It was two day lesson so she returned the next day and I gave her the work of art when it was done.
 Cynthia in the meantime hitched a ride to the Pebble Beach gate and walked a couple of miles all the way down to the ocean looking for my home. She did not know my last name. A Pebble Beach couple picked her up and dropped her back off at the gate, telling her she did not belong in Pebble Beach and did know anybody. She did not know anybody , she know me, just did not know my last name. Around 10 :30 PM a deputy sheriff dropped her off at my home. She was happy to be brought to my home. She was cold and had terrible blisters on her feet from walking for hours searching for my home. I prepared a pan of warm water with epson salt for her feet and served her a late Thanksgiving dinner in front of the hearth.
 The Photograph of Cynthia with her feet in the pan was another of the different times that a warm pan of water with Epsom Salt that I would be prepare for her . Her feet were still in rough shape. I was like an amaturepodiatrist and would massage her feet with an intensive moisturizing cream. I used to do it for my Mom often when she was in her Ninties and I was her caregiver. My son Eric did it for me when I had the horrid open heel wound. I found it interesting to see the foot washing as a ritual at church. It has been a reality not a ritual at our home for years. I never knew when I left the house whether Cynthia would be there when I returned from church or Doctor visit at the VA clinic. The first time I left to sing at Sunday Mass in the choir I left a container filled with 40 to 50 dollars in coins for her if she was to leave unexpectedly. I did put my laptop away.
 One evening Cynthia came upstairs from her room wearing a rather scanty Pajama Nighty and was attractive. I told her I did not expect any favors as my home was a house of love not lust. Later she told me love was something that whores do and Lust is what is in people's minds. Another time I told her we were all Children of God. She informed me she was a daughter of Satan. I thought to myself that could be an interesting challenge, That was a challenge I felt up to meeting. I have no fear of the devil or his minions. One evening after diner I fell asleep before she had selected a movie for us to watch. I awoke to find her watching the Jeffrey hunter Movie of Christ. She would move some photo books of my work that I used when Visitors were interested in Commission works and replaced them with art books with Pictures of Christ. I had told her she was an angel in disguise , creating opportunities for others to do random acts of kindness.
 There were problems and mood swings and her tendencies to lock door or secure them would have me locked out. Later out of fear she would not sleep downstairs in the guest bedroom and slept in what was an extension of the living room set up as a gallery. I would be awakened by her screams in the night even though I was a couple of rooms away and had to talk her down. She would move heavy furniture around , My paintings , books and belongings with out my permission. I had to check the refuse daily as she was throwing things of mine out. My home was in a state of mild confusion from one son moving out and leaving much of his belongings, Another son moving in with His belongings. My ex wife closed her apartment down and returned quite a few things she took when she left me. Cynthia was into creating order, her sense of order. She started to spread her belongings around in the gallery area, like clothes etc. along with some other things she did I found difficult to accept. I was angry at something she did, I confronted her and said firmly. and "If you are going to live here you will have to follow house rules " I pushed the wrong button. Her denfensive upset reply was capped off with, " I will murder you. You better be afaid of me. This is a half way house and you can't tell me what to do. You better be afaid of me!
 My answer was, " I am not afraid of you. This is my home not a halfway house. Talk like that will have you out of here. We were like nose to nose, a foot or two apart. I knew she was in jail in the past, but I was not sure for how long or for what as she once said it was for 15 years and another time said it was for 3 month. I once asked her if she worked out with weights while in Jail as she was pretty strong to move the furniture around by her self. I believe that her reaction was street talk bravado. At least I hoped so. Though I did entertain what I would do if necessary in self defense. I had been trying to get her in the system and get some help with her psychological problems. This experience and one a week later in a moment of delusion , she accused me of murdering her children created urgency in trying to get her professional help. I told her she could stay if she did.
When you try to help people you develop a sense of caring for them which is natural. I watched her blossom from a frightened lady living in fear to a woman who was confident and was making an effort to both help establish a sense of order, to think about others not just her self and control her impulses and anger. When my younger son came to live with me, more problems did arise I am accustomed to taking risk myself but am hesitant to put others at risk . Christopher, another one of my sons and family were returning from Hawaii and it was likely they would be with us for a while before they settle in to a place of their own. They just had a new baby. I did not want to put my new Grand daughter. Kaia Bella in a risky situation. Cynthia's delusions were troublesome and were a risk factor. When all my efforts fell on deaf ears when it came to having her have a psychological evaluation, I was left with a reluctant choice I did not want to make. I had a sheriff deputy come over Thursday and I mentioned some shelter for the homeless and he wrote directions to Dorothy Place in Salinas. My son was driving as I had a heel and vision problems due to medication I was on. We became lost and stopped and asked directions To Dorothy's place. Two rather rugged men who gave us directions, said you don't want to go over to that area. It is dangerous. Cynthia begged not to be taken there after hearing that. We arrived there round 5 PM and Dorothy's place would not open until 7. Her fear upon seeing an array of large homeless men waiting for other shelters and Mission to open was very real. I believe from our conversations she was robbed and may have been raped in the past. She would not get out of the car and asked to be taken to the Jack in the Box where I had met her. After dropping Cynthia off I had a choir practice to go to at St. Angela d Merci in Pacific Grove. The first hymn was about sheltering the homeless and feeding the hungry. It was my turn to cry. That Saturday I went back to Jack in the box in hope that I would see her and have her return. I would go each Thursday for medical treatment at the VA clinic and would drive to Jack in the box afterward. It would be difficult but I would have her return if I could. As a professional Painter Artist who also write songs and Musical compositions I once wrote a song You can be an Angel that was inspired by the needs at Dorothy's Place, A shelter for Homeless women when I was trying to have a fundraiser for Dorothy's Place co-ordinated by the Carmel Mission at my Studio of art and Music in Pebble Beach. I had closed gallery as health problems created by CHOMP had me handicapped and in pain. I was in debt and was not physically well enough to do it myself. All I had to give was my art and do what My Special friend in My heart guided me to do out of love. That special friend is Jesus. He should be in your heart at all times , not just at Communion . I was introduced to the needs of Dorothy's place at Carmel Mission by Friends of St. Francis who gave a talk about Dorothy's place whom they served. I am a fan of St. Francis having traveled to Assisi to paint. My Kids went to school at the Mission. I taught art free there and contributed quite a bit of art work that raised thousands of dollars for their fundraisers. The fundraiser never did happen though I discussed it with Pastor John and Deacon Nick a number of times for over a couple of months.
I chose the name John for my confirmation name and what Christ said to John about taking care of my mother just before he died, seem to have an effect on me and my relationship with women. I took care of my own mom as primary caregiver until she passed away at 99. She had a special love for Christ's mother, Mary and that was my inheritance. I have going to Lourdes Twice and would work with terminally ill to comfort them, to give them hope if there was any chance of hope. 
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