The Big Blue Test takes place every November leading up to World Diabetes Day on Nov. 14. The campaign reinforces the importance of exercise in managing diabetes. Through Big Blue Test, Diabetes Hands Foundation (DHF) called on people with diabetes to test their blood sugar, get active for 14 minutes or more, test again, and share the results at Bigbluetest.org. In the last three years, exercise decreased participants’ blood sugar level between 15 and 20 percent.

Roche’s support enabled DHF to provide critical funding to six nonprofit organizations. Five of those nonprofits are focused on helping underserved areas with a high incidence of diabetes in the United States. An additional grant will support the International Diabetes Federation’s Life for a Child Programme for the organization’s work in Latin America. As a result of reaching 8,000 entries in the Big Blue Test, Diabetes Hands Foundation granted the following:

• $25,000 to International Diabetes Federation’s Life For a Child program.
• $10,000 to Moundville Medical Clinic, Tuscaloosa, Alabama
• $10,000 to LIFT For Teens/Walk and Play For Wellness in San Rafael, CA
• $10,000 to University of Colorado Denver
• $10,000 to St. Anthony Medical Clinic, St. Anthony Foundation in San Francisco, CA
• $10,000 to Pecos Valley Medical Center, Inc. Pecos NM

“Because of these six extraordinary charities, thousands of people will have the insulin, supplies and care they need to survive,” said Manny Hernandez, founder of TuDiabetes and President of the Diabetes Hands Foundation (DHF).  “I am honored and humbled for DHF and the partners that helped us in the Big Blue Test to have a role in something so important.”

DHF will also share the anonymized results submitted by people with diabetes with two academic research groups, to help us analyze the data and learn more from The Big Blue Test. For more details, visit www.BigBlueTest.org.

I typically am a bike commuter, but this morning I found myself without my wheels and opted to take the muni rail line from the Sunset down to work at Civic Center. The N-line is invariably crowded, today being a particularly stuffy commute, so I thought nothing of it when a man with large Sony headphones pushed up close to me and repeatedly tried to validate his clipper card on the sensor. As the man proceeded to make unusual grunting noises, mumble “too, too many people” and pat himself on the arms and stomach, I quickly realized this gentleman most likely was mentally disabled. His behaviors soon appeared to make several of our fellow Muni-riders uncomfortable, a few people displayed obvious irritation at his loud, repetitive outbursts. Our crowded commute proceeded as expected: uncomfortable, crowded, and before everyone’s morning coffee.

We reached the Duboce/Noe stop and our conductor announced that earlier there had been an emergency in tunnel, so we may have some wait time coming up. To most of my Muni comrades, this news was a minor irritation – to the man with the Sony headphones, this news felt potentially life threatening. He pushed to get off the Muni between stops (where the doors don’t open) and became increasingly agitated. He was truly alarmed by prospect of being trapped in a tunnel for ANY period of time– which honestly, who among us can honestly say they aren’t at least mildly panicked at the thought of being crammed in an overcrowded metal box stuck 30 feet below the ground? I myself avoid taking the underground Muni during rush hours for the exact reason that I hate the idea of being stuck underground in a crowded, confined space. So, I could commiserate with the man’s upset.

It was then when I realized I was not just hearing this man grunt and moan about our delay, but someone else was making similar noises. As I looked around the train, I realized another man was mocking this gentleman’s distress. A few passengers rolled their eyes at the mentally ill man and others giggled at the one mocking him. Something in the pit of my stomach turned sour – this man obviously had a different perception of the situation at hand because of his mental capabilities, and to him this experience was truly frightening. Surrounding passengers found his reaction confusing, and perhaps annoying, and instead of deescalating his fear with compassion and understanding they were mocking his pain.

I was shocked. Was I the only one who thought this was wrong? And then I realized: so much of who I am and how I view the world is because of the values of where I work and those who I work with. The San Francisco Tenderloin, for all the stigma of being a “bad” place, is a community of tolerance and compassion. It is a community where people understands that we are all different, that our experiences often shape the way we view the world, and that if we don’t band together to make life a little easier for one another then it’s going to be a long, bumpy ride.

At the St. Anthony Foundation, we meet people where they are. Many of our clients find themselves ostracized by the general public because they are struggling with mental illness – here, they can be a part of a community where they are welcome. Here people’s suffering is eased by the listening ear of a social worker, by the familiar smile of a regular volunteer, by the comfort of a peaceful place to share a meal. I’m lucky to say I’m on a first name basis with many of our clients, in particular patients at St. Anthony’s Free Medical Clinic, and whenever I pass them on the streets they ALWAYS say hello and brighten my day. One of my favorite clients, a mentally ill gentleman who is very high functioning, tells me Laurel and Hardy jokes every time I see him – it is truly a blessing to feel so much love every day here in the Tenderloin.

But here, on this Muni train filled with commuters dressed in business suits, I suddenly felt alienated. Nobody seemed to recognize the man with the Sony headphones for who he was – someone confused, afraid, and in need of reassurance. A human being, just like the rest of us. For a moment I was angry — how could they be so ignorant! – but this passed and instead, I dug deep and called on what I’ve learned here at the St. Anthony Foundation and its Franciscan Values of healing, community, personalism, justice, and gratitude. I turned towards the man and looked him calmly in the eyes, my back to the crowd.

“It’s ok, it won’t be much longer. We’ve only stopped moving for a little bit, You’ll be ok. We’re all in this together.”

He focused his attention on me and stopped shaking back and forth, asked me a few more times “train has stopped? We’ll get off soon?” confirming with me that, yes, we would eventually disembark. I repeated my answer as many times as he needed to hear it, in a calm voice (only 3) and, satisfied, he focused himself silently on the doors and resumed patting his arms to comfort himself.

We got off at Civic Center, together.

Some days are harder than others.

For some reason when the rain returns after a glimpse of sunlight it seems a little darker than if we just had a few rainy ones in a row.  You need that morning coffee to kick in a little harder those days.

Reading the headlines of the paper there doesn’t seem to be much in the way of uplifting news.  Budget cuts, another round of teacher pink slips, and an unrelenting concern for profit juxtaposed with a disappointing negligence toward our country’s everyday people.

As one can imagine, working in the fundraising department of a non-profit during these times is an emotional and logistical challenge.  It is my job, however, to keep faith.  And  I must say, I am in a pretty good place for that.  At St. Anthony’s I am surrounded by people keeping faith and having hope that it may be dark today, but there will be light.  Our staff, guests, supporters and neighborhood friends are all amazing reminders, and believers.

As so many know and have been touched by the gratitude expressed by our guests, I too am thankful that there is a mission and movement that I can be a part of to keep faith and remember the sunnier days ahead.

It is good to dream, but it is better to dream and work. Faith is mighty, but action with faith is mightier. Desiring is helpful, but work and desire are invincible.    –Thomas Robert Gaines

Ed. Note: This entry was written by Noah, a junior at University of San Francisco. Noah’s role is to help coordinate the service-learning program for his peers who serve with St. Anthony Foundation:

My favorite days at St. Anthony’s are the days when someone takes you completely by surprise and teaches you a lesson about yourself. I had one of those days just last Friday at St. Anthony Dining Room. A guest sat down in front of me and we began eating our burritos together. I never got his name, but for the sake of this blog post, we’ll call him Ray, because he reminded me of my Uncle Ray. After we exchanged a smile, Ray saw my nametag and asked me what I did as an intern at St. Anthony’s. I told him that I went to USF and worked with students who do service-learning. He asked me my major; I told him that I was in International Relations. His response was, “Well, you better hurry up before it’s too late!” We shared some of our views over current events and the international order. Talk over politics and policy quickly turned to history and culture, and in order to emphasize some of his arguments with visual aids, Ray whipped out his iPhone to show me some pictures of late-Medieval and Renaissance art. Eventually, we ran out of things to talk about and were resigned to agree to disagree on certain issues. Ray finished his meal and went on his way. I was left a little bit surprised that a guest at St. Anthony’s might have an iPhone. But as I kept thinking, I became even more shocked by my own prejudice. It just goes to show that as much as we like to classify and categorize people with preconceived criteria, no demographic group is 100% homogenous. Most of the guests are St. Anthony’s probably don’t have iPhones, (just as most of my colleagues at USF probably don’t) but why shouldn’t some? St. Anthony’s serves all people, with and without homes, jobs, educations, families, legal resident statuses, cars, and yes, even iPhones. It takes individuals like Ray to remind me of this. You can bet that the next time I meet a guest in St. Anthony Dining Room, I won’t be making any assumptions about his or her mobile provider.

I really loved that the Dining Room at St. Anthony’s was actually called a “dining room,” instead of a soup kitchen. Just the name made it feel like it was a family setting, somewhere you could come home and feel safe, like a home with your own family. And, as time progressed, I felt like I had joined the St. Anthony Family because each time I can to volunteer there was always someone calling out my name. I never knew how much it meant to me that someone knew my name until I started working there. I felt loved because someone actually took the time out of their day to learn my name and remember my face.

Working at St. Anthony’s taught me so much about life. It helped me break down the barrier of my fear of homeless people. I learned that when you are on the outside looking in, you can sometimes be so quick to judge, but when you are inside, taking on the emotions of others, you can identify with them and become more understanding. At first, I thought this internship would feel just like community service, but I feel that I have walked away with so much more than that. Now I fully understand the causes and effects of homelessness, I can really look at all people with respect and not judge them.

If there one thing that St. Anthony’s serves up 365 days a year, it is the connection between food and community. In the St. Anthony Dining Room, people rely on the social connection almost as much as they do a hot, healthy, filling meal. Almost.

Today we celebrate a little known tradition at St. Anthony’s: The staff holiday meal. This year, as the last few years, the meal is being hosted and prepared by Tom Saber, our neighbor at Al Sabeel Masjid Noor al-Islam mosque.

Tom says it is not a thank you for loaning him our kitchen during Ramadan, when our Muslim brothers and sisters fast in order to be reminded of all of of our hungry neighbors, but a gift of thanks for the work that is done here 365 days a year serving the hungry in the neighborhood we share: The Tenderloin. All we can do is say thank you, and bless you Tom and our wonderful community.

During the Islamic holy month of Ramadan, St. Anthony Dining Room opens it’s doors to it’s neighbors at Al Sabeel / Masjid Noor al-Islam Mosque. Hours after the last guests at St. Anthony’s have finished eating Tom and the rest, along with other volunteers, prepare the Mosque’s evening meal.

“As Muslims, we have great respect for the service that St. Anthony offers to the poor and hungry.”, noted chef Tom Saber, who each year prepares food for more than 150 people at Alsabeel Masjid Noor Al-Islam during Ramadan, the month long Muslim holiday during which participants fast in order to be reminded of the experience of hunger that many of the poor experience every day.

Our class took a break just before 10:00 am, and one student who came in late told us that she heard that an airplane had hit one of the World Trade Center towers. I imagined a tiny private plane had grazed the building, and figured that the plane probably had sustained more damage than the building.

I went outside and walked around the corner to my favorite coffee shop. I was surprised to see that the coffee shop employees were closing the gate to the store. I asked them what was going on and they said that their boss told them to lock up and go home. Before I could ask why, one of the employees looked at me and said, “Terrorism. Planes are crashing into buildings on purpose. One into each of the twin towers. Another one just hit the Pentagon.”

The rest of the day is a blur. What I do remember, though, is something that I’m not very proud of. I was so afraid that I felt like I had to separate myself from everything that was happening. I didn’t want to face a reality that felt too painful to endure. I found a quiet room in my school and hid.

Then, a stranger walked into the room where I was hiding. He was a tall, young African American man wearing a security guard uniform. His arm was in a sling and he was covered head to toe with gray dust. He told me that he was a security guard at the world trade center. He had been hurt by a piece of shrapnel that had fallen off the building and was taken to Lenox Hill hospital, a few blocks from my school. The buses and subways weren’t running yet and he was stuck on the upper east side. Our building was open, and he wandered in. He was looking for help getting in touch with his family so they could know that he was OK.

At first, I was angry with this man for forcing me to face reality when the only thing I wanted to do was to hide.  His presence made me realize that no amount of hiding could change what had happened that day. People were suffering, scared, and angry. My city was broken and scarred. We all needed each others’ support to make it through the tragedy. I offered my new friend my cell phone and a place to sit. He called his family and let them know he was OK.

It’s difficult for anyone to come face-to-face with something horrible, something painful, something that breaks your heart. But, we can’t help each other if we are unwilling to face the reality of suffering, injustice, and pain that many people in our community feel on a daily basis.

People are suffering in our community right now. Their suffering may not be the result of a dramatic event that changed the course of world history, but their suffering is just as real.  One difference, though, is that people who suffer with homelessness, poverty, hunger, and addiction often do so in isolation.

If you are wondering how you will commemorate September 11th this year, I have a suggestion. Reach out to someone who is suffering, no matter how painful it may be to open your heart to their situation.

It was the quest for that kind of action that led me to volunteer at St. Anthony’s Dining Room. The orientation alone was enough to ignite my spirit.  Our group learned of St. Anthony’s history, the neighborhood, the services provided and policies that would make us an informed group of volunteers.

The Tenderloin consists of more than 20 blocks of residential hotels and apartments with close to 30,000 inhabitants.  Many of San Francisco’s homeless people also “hang out” in the Tenderloin, not just because of the services, but because it remains the one area of the city where the homeless feel least likely to be harassed for simply having no where else to go.

On my first day I was assigned to the main Dining Room serving the guests their meals.  After they ate, a new group was ushered in to be served.  My team leader encouraged us to simply be kind and make eye contact with everyone we served.  Before our time was up, we were asked to help ourselves to the food and sit with our guests and share.

As volunteers, we are expected to show unfettered dignity and respect to all who enter the hallowed halls (previously used as a garage for cars) of St. Anthony’s Dining Room.  They “firmly believe that all human persons have, as their birthright from the Creator, a remarkable dignity that no one else ever has a right to deny.”

“That is not uniquely Franciscan, Catholic or Christian,” according to the volunteer materials. “It is at the heart of all the world’s great religious traditions and is also the basis for the United Nations’ Universal Declaration of Human rights. Many of our guests and clients feel beaten up by life and their dignity and self-respect have deserted them. In our various services and ministries we try to ‘restore health, hope and human dignity.’ And we welcome you as partners in our work ‘to create a society in which all people flourish.’”

The economic gateway to universal freedoms has had its doors closed by the economic disparity between the rich and poor.  It is not easy to bring to light the many injustices that occur within our inner cities. Continual economic, social, and political threats against the marginalized and disadvantaged are playing havoc on their human freedoms.

It takes more than legislation to cure these economic, social, political and cultural woes.  It takes a united front to prevent the collapse of a structure that serves its poor.  Community building is a key component when it comes to protecting the economic and political interest of the poor.