YES, IT'S SOUP… AGAIN

       Joey was IN today! I squeezed that precious fella and told him to never leave me again! Today, it turns out, was an excellent lesson in attitude and pain. Last week I had pain (and attitude). This week, after more than 3 hours, I could have worked longer, but we were done. See?

       When I arrived, Joey had an 8-gallon pot on the stove with some leftovers in it. They hadn't even been stirred together. There was rice, egg noodles, pepper steak, spaghetti sauce, and green beans. Miss Lillian had asked him to make a soup for today. He was just waiting for me to come in, and you know how I love to make soup. I felt like the man who made stone soup.

       I added fresh potatoes, carrots, and celery. I put in several cans of spaghetti sauce. Joey thawed about a pound of cooked chicken breasts, and I diced those for the soup. He offered a cup of green peas from the refrigerator. I put in a 2-quart can of green beans; it was a work in progress. Finally, we got some spoons and gave it the taste test. Needed salt. Joey added four different seasonings from his collection above the stove. He knows what he likes, and he uses it freely. The soup was divine! I won't mention that the egg noodles stuck to the bottom of the pot and we had to change pots… twice… because it was a non-event compared to the success of the finished product!

        We had so much soup (to go with all the leftover plates Joey had brought from the refrigerator), and he made biscuits, and we had little bowls of fruit. Anyway, we had so much soup that we told both groups they could have a plate plus all the soup they wanted. The soup was down to about 1-1/2 gallons when I left. At least two people asked if they could have more at dinner tonight. One young woman said it was the best soup she'd ever tasted—in her whole life. Folks came to the counter for more soup. Joey and I were astonished that not only did the soup survive being nearly burned, everyone loved it. The door-unlocker lady came to get a bowl, saying she'd heard about the soup in the office! The social worker came for a bowl.

        Truthfully, it was just soup. But today it apparently reached heights that we never knew existed for soup.

       About reaching heights: There were a few homeless fellows walking up the sidewalk in downtown, as I made my way toward the shelter. It was cold enough for me to wear gloves and a scarf and beg the car heater to get a move on, so I knew those guys had probably spent a chilly night (God knows where). But there they were, appearing to be "going somewhere." One never understands the comings and goings of the homeless. Maybe it's about having something to do. Anyway, a tall thin man was wearing a hiker's backpack—obviously prepared to be self-sufficient. Sitting on top of his backpack, happy as a clam, was a dark gray cat. They were family—you couldn't read it any other way.
       My pre-release favorite has finally realized that I have a crush on him. He came to the counter before leaving the lunchroom, to tell me bye. I'd given some thought to the used car lot he was wishing for last week, and I told him, "I thought about your car lot, and you can DO that! Just get a job (any job), save your money, and buy one car. Get a good one. Fix it up and sell it for a good price. Let the buyer tell his friends what a good job you did. Then buy another car, and another. Pretty soon, you'll have a half-acre car lot right here in downtown!"
       He left with a huge dimpled grin, as I called to him again, "I'm watching you!"

       A couple came to our back door today, and we were expecting them. They'd thrown a big party yesterday, and they had GOBS of expensive foods left over. It was unopened and on ice. They were just so happy to have a shelter to give it to! In a way, I understood where they were coming from. Joey, however, tried and tried to wrap his mind around how it must feel to be "that rich."

       "Joey," I said, "being rich is a state of mind. There are many, many people who have far  more than this couple who came today. It's not about what we have, it's about how we feel about what we have."

       I guess he understood, but the children in Joey's family are depending on social services for their Christmas toys again this year. It didn't seem kind to tell Joey there are millions of children who will have only a bowl of rice for Christmas… and every other day.
       I saw Mr. Wilson in the parking lot as I was leaving. He's NOT gone. Turns out, neither Miss Lillian nor Joey recognizes Mr. Wilson by the "morbidly obese" description I give them of him. So... some other fellow got an apartment and a job in a restaurant. Mr. Wilson has simply missed lunch for the past two Sundays. Judging from the plates of food he was carrying in, his family is not leaving him to starve—or to respect his diabetes. I hate that! He's such a jolly man, and the world will suffer a loss when the chocolate cake takes him out.

       So we had a great day in the kitchen! I made 62 sandwiches, packed them with drinks, sweets, chips & napkins into 31 sacks. I packed about 20 sacks with PBJs, drinks, chips, and beef jerky! Somebody had donated a case of little boxes of beef jerky (four sticks per box). It feels so good to be there when somebody needs to say, "Joey, let's give the street people the beef jerky; they don't get enough protein, and they can carry it in their pockets." It's just that Joey and the other kitchen workers have been there so long that they've lost their feelings of personalization—like who gets the moon pie and the big orange—not that we can choose who gets it, but that it matters. Every sack matters. Every sack has a human being who will open it and feel cared for… or not.