She Feeds Their Bodies, They Feed Her Soul

Norma Carmichael feeds people.

Every Tuesday and Thursday around noon, at St. Andrew's Church on PCH, Norma Carmichael nourishes the South Bay homeless. She has been doing it for 18 years.

When I get out of my car and walk up to the church I could already see a group of them gathered around the door marked "Fellowship Hall." They gathered around a coffee dispenser, sipping from Styrofoam cups and chatting with one another. Their bikes and carts and other detritus of a life lived on the streets are laid neatly on the lawn outside of the church. At the Fellowship Hall they're not afraid of the police or others stealing their things.

In the courtyard I can see a deeply sun-tanned woman cutting the hair of a male companion. His eyes are closed against the early afternoon sun as he seems to relish the human contact. Norma helps make this possible.

I'm ushered back to the kitchen to meet her, where there is a cart with bag lunches lined up neatly, and a huge pot of chili sitting next to a gargantuan salad bowl ready to serve. I'm brought back through the hall and there are racks of clothes to be given to the 50-some patrons of this homeless lunch program.

I was introduced to Norma in the kitchen, where she was overseeing the placement of generous slices of pie onto disposable plates. She looked up at me and said outright, "I completely forgot you were coming today!" and laughed infectiously. As I followed her around the kitchen of the Fellowship Hall, I was astounded by her effortless joy and grace in the face of such harsh realities.

Norma Carmichael was a second grade teacher for LAUSD for 27 years. She has grown the church's lunch program since 1992 because, in her words, "I was retired and I needed something to do." Not much seemed to rattle Norma; when one of her daughters was diagnosed with cancer, she promptly flew to Denver and stayed with her while she underwent a bone marrow transplant. The lunch program kept going in those five weeks and patrons still ask after her daughter.

Norma guided me around the entire operation from the volunteers that join her every Tuesday and Thursday, to the computer and cellphone, which were donated to be used by the patrons. She introduced me to Pastor Martin Smith, who was there to lend his support, as a volunteer approached and informed her that they were running low on pie.

The unflappable Norma said to cut the pieces so that everyone received pie and explained the program: "Everyone gets fed, they get a sack lunch, they get a can of food, and toilet articles, and vitamins; we provide those, too." And still Norma regretted that she couldn't do more for the people she feeds. "I wish we had showers, and a place for them to store their things."

She has watched the outside her door grow as the recession has tightened its grip on the community. During the early days of the program in 1992, "seven people came, now we have almost sixty," she said, undaunted.

Carmichael focuses on nourishing the bodies of the people that she serves as well as their souls. When I asked her how she does that she replied with a bright smile, "By remembering their names." She explained: "It's about building relationships, and building trust, and consistency. They know that we're here and they know that we care."

As we were speaking a homeless woman approached Norma and hugged her from the side. Norma squeezed her tight and laughed. The woman looked at Norma and asked, "How's your daughter?"

Norma smiled and told her she was doing well. A neat line formed around Norma and the food; everyone ate and chatted. 

Norma Carmichael reads mystery novels and sings soprano in the women's choir. She goes to Bible study. And Norma Carmichael feeds people; it's what she has been doing two days a week for the last 18 years.  

Also in this series: ,