2 ANOTHER MARY
T
he next time I volunteer at the St. Vincent de Paul Thrift Store, I am arranging the religious articles in the display cabinets while my fellow volunteer, Mary Vrbancic, runs the cash register. Our store is a small, concrete-block structure situated on the back edge of everything. There are two abandoned houses next door, a homeless shelter across the street, and railroad tracks half a block away. The bell tower of St. Augustine Cathedral is within earshot, but it clearly faces the opposite direction—the direction of traffic flow and a bustling downtown. On the other side of the block, the St. Vincent de Paul shop is strategically gazing into the impoverished neighborhood. This is good. This is where we want to be. Our merchandise reflects everything that any retailer sells, but usually appears on our shelves a few years later. We sort and price what our donors bring to us, arrange the items in attractive displays, and depend on our neighborhood customers to turn it into part of God’s plan to save our living souls. According to the Rule of the St. Vincent de Paul Society (our spiritual guidelines), we are always the students, 5