THE NEW SOCIAL NETWORK

One church's mission to feed hearts as well as stomachs is making an impact in a big way, changing the lives of both the people they serve and the servants themselves.

by Garland Pollard

Each Wednesday morning, along a nondescript stretch of Tamiami Trail in north Ft. Myers, a sort of morning Christmas miracle happens at All Souls Episcopal Church. Over 60 volunteers, and about double that number of clients, come to the church for what is called a “food pantry.” But it's so much more than that.

To call it a food pantry is an exercise in understatement. Food is offered from the church, yes, housed in a “pantry” area to be kept safe during the week, but what is truly offered in this cavernous roadside warehouse-turned-church amounts to much more than canned goods and boxes of mac and cheese.

Inside the walls of All Souls food pantry exists a room full of life solutions for locals who are down on their luck, out of luck, or searching for a miracle. Clients who visit on Wednesday morning can receive help with birth certificates, haircuts and clothes; they might even receive a bus pass for medical appointments. After a number of visits, there are reconditioned bicycles available for clients. Omnipresent is a book tray, where mysteries and self help books circulate endlessly among clients, and are returned after reading for the next person to enjoy.

The doors to Barber Hall open at 9 a.m., as they have every Wednesday since 1997. On the Tuesday mornings prior, two dozen volunteers gather to set up and prep a parish hall about the size of a big box discount store, and lit just as brightly. Tables are laid out in the middle for meals with table stations lining the edge of the room where young, middleaged and older clients pick up basic foods, toiletries, and fresh vegetables, or receive help with going over mail, government forms, health and drug issues, or prayer needs. From the outside, these weekly gatherings have the feel of a church fair or bazaar, a stark contrast to the stories of hardship and grief often found in the midst of the bustle.

“It’s really an undertaking,” says the Rev. Christian Maxfield, who has been at the parish as rector since November of 2018. Maxfield joined All Souls from an assistant position at St. John’s in Naples, itself an outward focused and evangelist church. But All Souls is different. “I’ve never seen a small church do the ministry that this church does,” says Maxfield.

The front of All Souls, while meticulously painted and well-maintained, is still very much a spartan roadside steel building. While the warehouse style worship center is now on trend for hipster mega-churches across the U.S., in the early ‘90s it was a practical solution rather than a hip modern statement.

The building itself was a bit of an accident, coming out of desperation, and prayer. The congregation began life in October of 1986, when a group from St. Luke’s, the oldest church in Ft. Myers, petitioned the diocese to establish a mission to the North Ft. Myers area. Soon after, the group found an offhighway strip center storefront on Slater Road to use as an initial meeting place. The first worship held on All Souls’ Day, November 2, 1986, saw 38 in attendance, with the late Rev. Alex Comfort officiating.

By March 1987, they had selected a name - All Souls. As the mission grew, they added additional storefronts, which included two for the church, two for offices and school rooms, and two for a thrift store, encompassing an entire strip shopping center. From the beginning, an income generating thrift shop was a part of the business plan.

The Rev. Walt Mycoff was called to lead the church in June of 1990. The church had been given land and was rapidly growing; however, they could not afford to build on it. Then Junior Warden Alan Barber then took on the task of finding a larger, more visible space, ultimately finding a 24,000 square feet steel retail warehouse building located on US-41, that had been home to a series of failed businesses. Its original use, recalls Mycoff, was a a mini “Sea World type attraction” that would have snared visitors stopping off at the nearby Shell Factory, a Florida roadside tourist

extravaganza since 1937. If you look closely, you’ll notice the only clue that reveals the building’s original intent: the 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea-style portholes on the front of the building which currently hold stained glass.

The building, owned by Barnett Bank, seemed to be a perfect - if slightly offbeat - solution for the congregation. The church’s thrift store would flourish along the busy roadside, and the building would have the space for other income-generating tenants, leaving plenty of space for worship and ministry. The first reaction? A big “no way” from parishioners, many of whom were retired and on fixed incomes. Although the price, at about a half million, was reasonable for the location and size and well below appraised value, the church had no money, only faith. To decide, the church leadership put the question to God.

“We would pray constantly about whether we would buy this building,” recalls Mycoff. “what should we do?”

They ended up getting a 90-day exclusive look, but still could not decide on a workable way to come up with the money. As it turns out, the congregation came up with the winning idea: a bond issue, where members would, in a very real way, loan money to the church. Mycoff took the idea and coordinating plan to Diocesan Council: a meeting he could hardly walk into, as he had thrown his back out just prior to the meeting. The presentation was a dud.

“They were all just shaking their heads,” said Mycoff. However, Bishop Rogers Harris surprised everyone when he said that he thought it was a good idea. During the process, the building price was reduced again by the bank. Two days after the purchase, they learned that the bank had had a $1 million backup offer that was double the amount paid by the church.

“I think the Lord’s hand was all over it,” said Mycoff.

The congregation cleaned and gutted the building themselves, adding interior improvements including interior concrete block walls. The congregation held its first services at the back of the building on Oct. 31, 1993, and the worship space was dedicated the following Palm Sunday, March 27, 1994. Commercial tenants were a part of the early income mix, but almost immediately, thoughts shifted to possible mission opportunities. In a 1993 report to the diocese, the church said that the prospect of acquiring and converting this building into a center for Christian ministry had “created a sense of shared excitement and anticipation that did not previously exist at All Souls.”

Clockwise from top: Deacons the Rev. Sandy Johnson along with the Rev. Anne Carlton-Jones, and the Rev. Cynthia Montooth of St. Hilary all assist at the pantry. Joan Yerian, Carol DeNapoli, and Eileen Conway at the registration table; Charlie and Norma offer extra food distributions.

The outreach effort as it exists today began formally in 1997 as a simple food pantry; two parishioners started handing out food, asking for volunteers to assist them in their efforts. Through the years, local social service agencies and hospitals began to ask to be included in the effort, each contributing unique expertise. When the church added a full kitchen, Deacons Sandy Johnson and Nancy Smith added sandwiches and soup to the mix, and the effort continued to grow outward.

Part of the success of the day is the variety of groups who participate; through the years the church has had an open door policy for other churches and groups. “It was just sort of a ‘hey, we’d like to come and do this,” said Mycoff.

Nothing during his time in seminary at Nashotah House in Wisconsin prepared Maxfield for what he would be doing each Wednesday morning at All Souls, where he comes each Wednesday as a rector, not a social worker, and offers prayer. He says that in some ways, taking care of the physical needs of someone, in the moment, is easier than addressing complex fixes for emotional hurt. “That’s the easy level,” said Maxfield. “Giving people food and shelter and an opportunity for further work.”

He walks me over to one of the things that encourages him; specifically, a table where volunteers Beth Scarborough and her husband Dave are sitting amidst a neatly organized set of mail, A to Z, alongside a few packages. This is an essential lifeline, easy for the parish to sustain with little money. While capital gifts, including from the diocesan Episcopal Charities, have helped support the ministry, the entire budget is only about $30,000 a year. “We are not paying big bills,” says Maxfield. “This is a big, program-sized ministry in a small church.”

Challenges exist, and they have had situations with some clients that are difficult, including ones that require police intervention. It’s a lesson in reality: problems abound, but the Wednesday mission effort, along with other efforts across Lee County, give law enforcement answers to some problems they face. “We are highly known for what we do,” says Maxfield. “It also brings problems to light, and when that happens, people send them our way.”

The biggest fear for Maxfield is that need will always be there, and with a congregation of less than 100, All Souls will never have access to vast resources. “Once you start it, you can’t stop it,” said Maxfield. “People are now dependent on this ministry.”

A SOCIAL NETWORK

Despite the relative wealth within Lee County, the area around North Ft. Myers has great and abiding need. When the church identified the location, according to Mycoff, one

Greg Bennett manages the shipments and back area with frozen goods. He is showing an invoice from the Harry Chapin Food Bank; while it is over $2,900 the goods have been delivered at no charge to All Souls as they have been such a key distribution point. Inset, taking information for Lee County Social Services. Left, Diane Stachowicz and Terri Friewald taking information.

of the deciding factors in choosing it was not only that the building was a “beautiful location” for visibility, but also that it was known as an area in which many homeless individuals and families lived and needed assistance.

That help comes from, among others, Lee County Health Department and Lee Memorial Health System. The Wednesday effort at All Souls provides a hub for all sorts of agencies, and a place where those who deal with the issues can come together to share ideas and roles, referring clients to another agency when they cannot help. The tried and true principles of public health are very much at work; simply keeping the most vulnerable people well and not sidelined from illness gives them the opportunity to contribute back to society. Basic immunizations are provided for those who need it: Hepatitis A and B vaccines, HIV tests and help are all available to assist in this effort of overall wellness for those who may not have access otherwise.

One of those community workers is Jan Frick, a counselor with Family Health Center, which focuses on the chronic medical conditions of the homeless in the Ft. Myers area. The agency provides medical exams through a mental health provider and a nurse assistant. Professionals such as Frick bring a level of experience and expertise to the project as it unfolds each week. Her expertise is addictions counseling, but in her role, she sees that any chronic condition can be a great challenge, with no secure address and only a backpack for essential belongings. Having a place to land, every other Wednesday, at least provides a touchpoint.

Frick, like so many of the helpers at All Souls, has an entirely realistic view of how and when to help, but also when to step back. This is often a particularly hard choice for those who work with clients who return over and over again. “If you sense you are working harder than the client for their own well-being,” says Frick, “something’s wrong.”

This particular Wednesday, the assistant Parish Nurse Mary Zappulla, R.N., also has a table across the room, and assists immediate medical needs; between clients, she fills the drinks tray for lunch. Jewish Family Community Services is also there, to help with veterans’ issues. The U.S. Census is at another table, looking for census takers who can earn $16 an hour and building awareness about the need to count everyone. The All Souls effort thrives with this collection of volunteers, who each offer what they can to make the effort larger than it would be.

“God puts all sorts here to make this work,” says Deacon Sandy Johnson, who gives devotions before lunch, and collects prayers in the thrift shop after they are finished.

22

The surrounding community does step in. For instance, the nearby Six Lakes Country Club supports two volunteers and a table of goods that are given out separate from the thrift store items that the church distributes. On this particular Wednesday, Rose Zach and Carol Falsion are handing out sportswear. Residents bring whatever they can: extra clothes and Christmas turkeys among them. Packaged food makes a regular appearance, set out with the clothes. Often, the country club gets donations from a nearby Orthodox Church. Food donations are a requirement of many of the recreational events at the club. “They come to bingo,” said Zach, “they all bring a canned good.”

“A lot of our help comes from other churches,” says Maxfield. He points to two sisters, Margie and Mary, who give away toiletries at a table sponsored by nearby Good Shepherd United Methodist Church.

Pat Maxwell, a retired teacher from Ohio who calls Florida home from January to April, became a new volunteer this year. She found out about the ministry from her church, Holy Trinity Presbyterian; the All Souls pantry and her dulcimer mountain music band are her primary volunteer activities when she is on her extended Florida vacation. Just being at this place, this morning, is a reward in itself.

“I’m being fed as well,” says Pat Maxwell. “This is for me.”

KEEPING UP

Often, one of the most stressful situations is the holiday season, when the unfulfilled needs of the community converge on All Souls and the small church, and its army of volunteers. Don Berdan, co-manager of the project, has to manage limited resources. One example: the Harry Chapin Food Bank generously provides around 50 of Publix $10 gift cards, but how to distribute those 50, when there are so many more in need is a harder problem to solve.

To improve the process, they are thinking about ways to improve technologically, and have had conversations with the Food Bank about how to do it. The forms, Berdan says, often overwhelm. “The office looks like a printing press.”

A key part of the day is sitting down for a meal. After clients have received help with their needs, they sit down to enjoy a meal brought to them by volunteers. Lemonade, iced tea and water are distributed by drinks cart, in a manner reminiscent of onboard airline drinks service. “The most important thing you can give is a smile,” says volunteer Charlie Thomas, who attends St. Thomas Baptist Church.

Today, they offer doughnuts on arrival, with meatballs and a salad served for lunch. Some of the volunteers eat, as well. This equalizes the group, where the lines between server and served fall away; the only notable difference being the green t-shirts worn by volunteers. Call it serendipity or the Holy Spirit; one does not know exactly what will happen, or who will arrive each week. Recently, a chef from Quebec who

Some of the faithful volunteers have been prior clients, and the clients? They come to church. One particularly appreciative client asked about attending, and seeing that there were two services, she asked if she could attend both. Growing up Catholic, she did not realize that the Rite I service at 8 a.m. was similar in content to the 10 a.m. contemporary service.

Then there is the case of the late Fern Lamb, a former client who often came to the morning outreach. She was lonely, and in need. Two parishioners, the late Dr. Dick Yerian and his wife Joan Yerian, (still a steady volunteer) often helped her out on Wednesdays; she was not the easiest person to deal with. She often required other kinds of help. But when she died, she left the church everything, her savings, life insurance proceeds and bank account. It totaled over $40,000. When they went to her apartment, they found $20,000 in cash. That gift - now transformed into the Fern

The mission is blessed by other former clients, including a man who had had a traumatic family loss. “He went and sat on the beach until all his money was gone,” said Deacon Johnson. To rebuild his life, he came to the mission effort for shoes, and help. He ended up joining a family business, which he later inherited. “He visited this year, and dropped off a check for $4,000 to repay us for the help getting him back on his feet,” says Berdin.

Above: John Martin’s wife Cherie is one of the co-chairs of the ministry; he assists, including wearing her badge. Behind him are ministry tables, including the mail ministry. Below: Pat Maxwell, a new volunteer originally from Ohio, offers one brick of cheese and other foods from the Harry Chapin Food Bank. She attends Holy Trinity Presbyterian, one of the many other churches that support the All Souls ministry.