The Least of These

John Feehery, Republican Strategist proudly admitted on Hardball with Chris Matthews that Republicans don't care about the 45 million people without healthcare in the U.S.  Congressman Ryan, another Republican and head of the Ways and Means committee wants to abolish Medicare.  These are some of the same people who throw Jesus in our faces to convert, to throw gays under the bus and to ignore the working poor.

A few years ago, I provided spiritual support to "Margaret" a woman in her sixties who had lived on the margins of society her whole life.  Her parents were dirt farmers and as a child, she knew hunger and an empty pantry.  As an adult, she raised her three children working two and sometimes three minimum wage jobs. She had never had health insurance and with the exception of giving birth to her kids, she had never gone to a doctor.  She couldn't afford it.

Getting a yearly pap smear and a well-woman exam in her early sixties was out of the question, but when her belly swelled, unexplained fatigue knocked her back, and excruciating pain and pressure in her pelvic region forced her to visit her local emergency room, medical personnel were not surprised when they discovered cervical cancer that had spread to her spine.  She endured a round of chemotherapy and lost all of her hair.  The treatment was too little and too late.  Catching cervical cancer is easy if a woman gets her yearly exams, but nearly impossible to cure once it has spread.   Margaret went home to die.  The irony was she turned sixty-five the following week and went on Medicare making it possible for her to have health insurance for the first time in her life.

She should have been angry, but instead she was grateful: she loved her children and her grandchildren; all of her family lived nearby; she had a place to live; and she loved to crochet.

"I want to do something for others," she said.
"What did you have in mind?" I asked.
"I'd like to crochet hats for kids with cancer.  When I lost my hair, I was cold all the time, and I don't want kids to be cold like me.  If I made some hats, would you take them to sick kids?"
"Sure," I said.
The next week, she gave me sixteen hats of many different colors and all in a beret shape.  I was stunned.  How did she make so many in such a short period of time.
"I worked on 'em when I could," she said.
"All the time, it looks like to me."
Margaret smiled.  I delivered the hats to a local children's hospital.  Two weeks later, I visited again.  This time she had two plastic shopping bags full of crocheted hats.
"I crocheted some more."
"I can see that."
"Are there more kids?" she asked.
"There are two other children's hospitals in the area," I said.  "I'll take them there."  On my next visit, another bag of hats waited for me.
"I made these bigger," Margaret said.  "For old people.  Do you know any old people?"
"Lots," I said.  "I go to nursing homes all the time."
"Will they like my hats?"
"Yes," but Margaret looked troubled.  "I don't have any more money for yarn.  I went to Wal-Marts to buy some, but I couldn't get much."
"We'll get you some yarn."  The next week, a local church group provided her with all the yarn she could ever need.  For the next few months, she crocheted hats until a week before she died.  She made hundreds of them.

Jesus spoke about the "least of these."  He worried if humanity would take care of them and more importantly, he identified himself as one of them.  No doubt Margaret belonged to these people, the ones our society wastes.  She deserved more than the John Freehery-types of the world.