A Close- Up Look At People Who Matter : Church Is Force of Program for the Needy

When the aerospace industry took a dive in the early 1990s, leaving widespread unemployment in its wake, Esther Ulmer was glad she had fought so hard for an outreach program at her church to help the community’s needy.

The laid-off workers “were people who said they thought they’d never have to come here,” said Ulmer, Our Redeemer Lutheran Church’s coordinator of human care and volunteer ministries.

She said she saw many people who had master’s degrees and doctorates in engineering and electronics come to the church for help.

The outreach program was founded in 1988, using only a 13-square-foot space in the parish hall. In September, 1991, it was moved to a small house adjacent to church at the corner of Winnetka and Chase avenues in Canoga Park.

The appearance of the simple, single-story white house facing Chase Avenue can be as deceptive as the depth of poverty in the surrounding neighborhood.

“When you look around, it seems a pretty affluent neighborhood, but there are pockets where people are hurting,” said Duane Reed, director of lay ministry.

Ulmer, he said, is the driving force behind the church’s outreach program.

Most of those served at the small white house are temporarily down on their luck, the working poor, people who are looking for a boost over a hump and those on Social Security or disability income, Ulmer said.

Newcomers often look anxious over asking for help as they give the particulars of themselves and their families, Reed said.

“These two boxes are full of people like you,” Reed often says to assuage their fears.

Within the two small cardboard files, the group keeps track of its clients. Last year, the program provided more than 3,000 families--nearly 13,000 adults and children--with 100,000 meals, plus clothing and bus tokens as needed.

Since April, the program also has run a weekly medical clinic and offers showers to the homeless once a week.

“Sometimes, I’d rather be clean than eat,” said Tim, 42, who has been homeless since the Northridge earthquake. He describes the white house and its 25 volunteers as an oasis of kindness in a world where the poor and homeless are looked down on.

“It’s so rare,” said Tim, who lost a window-cleaning business because of the earthquake. “You come here and you feel like you’re coming home to your mother or something.”

Volunteers sometimes get hugs of gratitude from the people they help, Reed said. The volunteers, he said, try to remember at least the first names of the recipients.

And stereotypes soon evaporate. “I have seen people’s attitude toward the poor change when they come here,” Ulmer said. “There is this image of the homeless being lazy. Those two ideas don’t always go together.”

Audrey Smith, a volunteer for five years, learned of the program while taking confirmation classes at the church.

“I was spiritually starved,” said Smith, a retired nurse. “I came here and I got a banquet.”

Most volunteers--like the people they help--come to the church after hearing of the outreach program through word of mouth. The church does little advertising of its efforts. In fact, many of its neighbors were surprised to hear about the program when church officials asked for a city permit to set up the medical clinic, Ulmer said.

Except for a modest sign, a passerby may not realize the work that goes on inside the house. Upon closer examination, one can see that the single car garage has been converted into a storage room for donated food and other items.

And the house has a garden that includes potatoes, squash, corn, eggplant and tomatoes. About 200 pounds of zucchini from the garden have been given out since the beginning of May.

“I think there’s a lot being done out there that people don’t know about,” Ulmer said.

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