‘God left me here’ The lucky ones in the shadow of West Virginia’s Capitol triple up in ram- shackle houses or are closeted in sub- sidized high-rises. Those that aren’t lucky live on the streets. Two years ago, Ed Burch of Trin- ity Evangelical
Lutheran Church, Charleston,
W.Va., and others began Trinity’s Table, which today serves 300 Sunday- evening dinners to the elderly, men- tally ill, sex offenders and the lonely. Volunteers put in 12-hour days of worship, food preparation, and shar- ing soul and spirit with the hungry visitors. “But when we leave on Sun- day night, it’s a euphoria,” he said. “A lot of people eat three, four, five meals. They’re that hungry.” Parishioners join with butchers, food banks and farmers’ markets to bring down the cost.
need to not be threatened because we can’t immediately fix the problems.” Following are 12 initiatives from Pennsylvania to Alaska that have burst beyond traditional responses to poverty. They prompt the question, “What else can be done?”
80,000 pounds isn’t enough In Pennsylvania Dutch country sits a potato patch that yielded 80,000 pounds of Kennebecs for 250 food pantries in three counties last season. The Potato Project began in 2008
with Walt Zawaski of Trinity Evan- gelical Lutheran Church, Kutzown, Pa. He’d lost his computer job and got inspired by a TV report about a Colorado farmer who had a bounty crop of potatoes, invited takers and
was overrun. “Well, I didn’t think things were that bad [here], but we could do something,” Zawaski said. In his backyard, he stuck some potatoes in the dirt. Pantries gladly accepted the 7,500 pounds Zawaski and volunteers gave in 2009. The patch grew to 13 acres. Last
year, 988 volunteers harvested the crop in 103-degree heat. In four-hour shifts, they traipsed behind a dusty tractor that turned the potatoes up to the surface. Sent to the Greater Berks Food Bank for distribution, the 80,000 pounds quickly vanished. “I had no realization that I would be in the potato business,” Zawaski said. “[Volunteers flock to Louisiana and Tanzania] but nobody comes here to Kutztown.”
Late one night two struggling middle-aged women quietly knocked on the church door. They clutched a bushel of beans and a sack of chick- ens. “You took care of us, so we want to help you,” they said.
Burch, 64, has had lung cancer but is still kicking. “God left me here to start this ministry,” he said.
Leave your wallet at home Deep in the heart of Appalachia stands a thrift store so needed it draws families and the elderly from Greene, Cocke, Hamblen and Washington counties in Tennessee.
No one has to pay for the cloth- ing, appliances, furniture and food at Appalachian Helping Hands. In nine years, 2,200 families have found
For a study guide, see page 26. July 2012 21
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