ANGST

       Bonnie beat me to the shelter today. She had two trays of sandwiches in progress when I got there, and  Joey was hustling up a huge pot of soup (yes, again), and mopping floors. For lunch there would be soup and fried chicken-patty sandwiches. Bonnie got christened with deep-fryer use. She's completely dipped in this wonderful world I call my soup kitchen. (I hope she'll share with me when I get home.)
       Joey cooked two enormous turkeys for the evening meal. He asked me to debone them. Well, he asked me to slice them, but they just fell off the bone, so I separated the white meat from the dark, and we siphoned off the juices for a gravy he was planning. He also plans to serve stuffing, potato salad, and green beans. I had the honor of putting four gallons of green beans on the stove. "You can season them anyway you want to, Miss Joy." That child can delegate with the best of them.
       School is going well, still. He reported a 92 for the latest test, and he proudly showed me a book he is reading (a book I gave him). He decided to read it while he's riding the bus. Inspiration.
       I left shortly after noon, but it felt like I'd put in a day's work! We worked on PBJ sacks for the street folks; we made extra sandwiches for our lunch folks (those chicken patties were limited), I boiled eggs for Joey's potato salad, and there was the actual serving. Bonnie is the consummate server! She is front and center, "Take two slices of cheese! You need them!" It's hard to remember why I was so reticent with "my people" for so long, when I see Bonnie fly in there and care for them like they were her spawn. I need to make a note: she's doing it better than I did.
       My favorite fellow was down today. I don't know why. He had many upbeat things to report, such as a day trip out of town with relatives and getting his driver's license. He's making wonderful progress, but it IS slow, and I understand that it's not always easy to be upbeat. He mentioned his children that have been left behind because of his circumstances. "Prison takes a lot from you," he said solemnly.
       I could only encourage him to keep reading and writing, LIKE himself, and be patient. Patience is going to be his most difficult shtick. Happily, his extended family has come to lift him up, and he has plans for future ventures. If my travel plans stay on course, I'll see him for at least another month before he has finished this part of his journey. I hope he goes far while I am away. I'll write.
       Bonnie promises to email me news of the kitchen. I will post her reports here, but I'm thinking they'll be short and sweet. Who knows? Maybe she's a writer who's just never had good fodder.
       I'm already homesick. "I love you, Joey," I said, when I hugged him good-bye.
       Again he reminded me that it won't be that long—this is where I become the young one, and he becomes the parent. He's a keeper. Excuse me; I've got something in my eye.

SOUP ON SPEED

       Joey was handing a lunch and a drink out the back door to his homeless friend when I hit the kitchen. I've no idea how many people come to that door, but they know he's good for a meal.

       He was anxious to tell me that he did so well on his last exam that he's now working on a 12th-grade level. His teacher must have dropped straight out of Heaven—that child has never once complained about school, or how long it might take.

       Bonnie came in shortly after I did, and we dug through the canned-goods boxes in the pantry for a few things to add to the huge pot of soup on the stove. Joey contributed a box of chicken broth, and I put in some macaroni and broccoli.

       With that underway, we counted sacks in the refrigerator—we needed 27 more. I got out the trays that I make sandwiches on and showed Bonnie how I lay them out and stack them up, 12 to a tray. She's very fast, and it was hard to keep up with her! After we'd finished the sack lunches, we had to make 70 sandwiches to serve with the soup. The timing was perfect.

       Bonnie is SO motherly at the serving counter! "Eat your soup; it's good for you. Here, take two sandwiches, you're a growing boy!" I'm pretty sure they like her a lot!

       Gappy dropped by for a few minutes. He's feeling much better than last week, and I enjoyed his big smile and warm "Hey, Miss Joy!" I'm starting to miss my kitchen something awful. Joey tried to comfort me, "You'll be back, Miss Joy. It'll be okay."

       "I'll write to you, Joey," I said. "That's one way I can get you to read!"

       ONE came often to the kitchen. When I asked for a new story, he had only one thing to report: "How about the woman who woke up the whole top floor at 3:30 a.m., screaming and swearing about another woman who was snoring?"

       Overall, folks at the shelter are upbeat today. I introduced Bonnie to Aaron and told him that she is taking my place for the winter and that if he needs a hug, she's good for those.

       We made about 25 PBJ sacks, refilled the cookie and chip boxes for the next volunteers, and cleaned up our mess. Before I knew it, it was time to leave—3 hours of hustle and lots of warm fuzzies—mission accomplished. 

MID-JANUARY

       Joey and Gappy greeted me this morning—both afflicted with awful colds. Gappy's condition was especially precarious. After he'd touched all the refrigerator doors and brought me a diet Dr. Pepper ("Miss Joy, I know what you want; I'll take care of you,") I finally told him, "You really shouldn't be in this kitchen, as sick as you are." He left then, but I've no idea how long he'd already been there… Bless his heart.

       Joey's cold was less severe. He spent the morning at the chicken sink, skinning chicken. The phone rang off the hook, and it was always for Joey, so he changed his gloves often.

       My favorite door unlocker, ONE, is back! He's going to be working the day shift until otherwise directed. I was so excited to see him, and I let him know! Maybe he'll bring me another good story.

       We needed only 12 sack lunches, and I had finished those and begun work on 15 PBJ sacks when my friend Bonnie walked in! She wants to hold down the fort while I am away this winter, so she had come to "learn the ropes." She got baptized good and proper, too! We were 15 minutes shy of serving time for the pre-release folks, so Bonnie washed her hands, donned an apron, wiggled into a pair of gloves, and began spooning food onto plates. We handed off the plates until we'd put 24 of them on the serving shelf.

       Bonnie was incredibly fast and efficient, self-starting, and hard working. We'd never taken the time to talk about the shelter, so she came in thinking that those poor folks waiting around outside in the cold must be so hungry… She didn't know they live there or that they can (and do) sometimes take a plate and then throw it in the trash. She didn't know about the two groups or their disparity but, as I said, she got christened. What a trooper! She left saying, "It was fun!" and I said, "Bonnie, you're weird."

       Aaron is still seeking employment. He wasn't as "up" as last week, but I understand his frustration. He's still reading, and today he said he'd done some writing! We never get enough time to contemplate the universe, but we cover an enormous amount of ground in the few minutes that we have.

       I hope Bonnie will adopt Aaron while I am away. Next week I'll feel forced to tell him that I'm going away for awhile—child abandonment, that's what it is. I hate it.

SNOW & ICE AGAIN

        We had a lot of fun today! I made an enormous pot of bean 'n ham soup, and a smaller pot of chicken 'n rice. Joey baked some fabulous biscuits, and we served peaches on the side.

       Before I even noticed how quiet the pre-release crowd was, Joey said they were mad at him. He said he had to yell at them yesterday. He's just looking out for them (don't take food or drink out of the dining room, clean up your place, etc.), and I've heard him apologizing for being so hard on them. I've heard him explaining to them that he just wants them to stay out of trouble, but I imagine he raised his voice extra yesterday. They'll get over it.

       When most of them had left, I saw Aaron eating alone. Joey says he's always alone and that he has nobody. I went out and sat beside him. He said those were the first peaches he's had since before he went to prison—nothing in prison except apples, oranges, and bananas.

       We talked about 10 minutes, and another 5 minutes in the kitchen before I left. He made some progress toward getting a job last week. It's a slow process. If filling out a form on-line takes an hour, and receiving an I.D. is a 2-minute event, that surely leaves a lot of dead air in a week's time. He says what he needs most is patience.

       His intelligence precedes him. I didn't hesitate to remind him how very bright he is, how articulate, how knowledgeable—he's reading some self-help books at the moment. He said his mother has a very high IQ and that she sent him to private school. It shows. And I like to believe in people; I believe Aaron is going to go forward from here.

       Guess what? That "real volunteer" lady we had a few months back—she wasn't any more real than the pregnant one; she was just working off her community service. Another girl came in this afternoon to begin working off hers. Kyle, too, was in that circle; we don't see him anymore, but we still miss him—nice fellow.

       There's a little gap-toothed fellow who used to volunteer often, helping Joey clean out the freezer and move drink crates around, but then he disappeared. Joey said he wasn't allowed to come there anymore. Today, however, Gappy spent the whole morning with us, and frankly I don't see why he'd not be welcomed! He was a lot of help!

     Only one of the "residents" stood out today—a young girl of about 15 who wanted to know if we had any Dr. Pepper. She almost whispered her request, and the look on her face just made me want to cry. She looked frightened and withdrawn. Looks like that just don't belong on such young faces.

       Gappy helped me compile 16 sack lunches—I enjoyed his company and sense of humor. He was especially amused to see me trying to get out of my under shirt without undressing. "Don't you think that would be easier if you took off your apron?" he offered. But I was too far gone. It took a while, and I'm sure I bared my waist to him and Joey, but the shirt came off, leaving the outer garments intact.

       There was no school report this week, as Joey didn't make it to class; with the new snow, he was lucky to get a ride to work!

       You know, I can't remember when my back or feet hurt in that kitchen. I didn't leave until 1:00 today, and that was only because there was nothing left to do!

SUNSHINE

       The white stuff is gone. There were many folks to greet as I walked in this morning. Joey was waiting for me, "Miss Joy, we're making soup today. What do you want to put in it?"

       "I don't know; let's go see what we can dig out of the stash!"

       We got on our knees in the pantry and dug through two boxes of canned goods. Anything that wouldn't muddy up the soup broth and didn't have pork or beef in it went into the soup pot. Joey had already cut up some potatoes. We added pasta when the boiling was nearly done. We served sandwiches with the soup. When everyone had been fed, there was one tiny bowl of soup left, and Joey made no apologies for taking it. "We sold out, Miss Joy!"

       Mr. Wilson is still there—smiling and eating. Surely it is nearly time for him to get out.

       Emergency vehicles came to the "day shelter" on the street behind ours again today. Joey was glued to the window, "I don't understand why people cause so much trouble in a place that takes them in. I just don't understand it. They shouldn't do that."

       He's a bit depressed today and hadn't taken his anxiety meds because he was high on caffeine and didn't want to mix them. Surely that was why his mood seemed to fluctuate, because he really surprised me when he said he doesn't like the pre-lease folks. "Really?" I was shocked. "They're my favorites! Why don't you like them?"

       "They're bad," he said. "Some of them just really get on my nerves."

       I was behind the warming oven putting together 30 sack lunches while our pre-release ate, when Joey surprised me again. He was asking those "bad pre-lease" folks how they were! And then I heard him giving one fellow his deepest sympathy because no one was going to visit the man this afternoon. Most of them have Sunday afternoon visitors. Joey treats them like his children, but he doesn't "like them?" Maybe there's more here than meets the eye.

       When they'd nearly all left, I remembered my little sweetie, and I asked Joey, "Where is Aaron today?"

       "He just left, Miss Joy. He's really feeling down because he's not going to have any visitors today."

       WHAT?

       "Joey, please get him to come back. I didn't get to speak to him."

       So Joey asked another man to send Aaron back to the dining room. In a few minutes Aaron came in, and I motioned him to the kitchen door. "I need to give you a hug," I told him. "I didn't get to speak to you today."

       He gave me a big hug.

       "I always have a favorite, and my last one left about 3 weeks ago, so I chose you to be my new favorite. You'll have somebody here every week who wants a hug, and I'll be watching you."

       He hugged me again. His face was so precious, and he seemed so pleased to know that somebody was claiming him. We talked about his plans, a job, his talents, future training... he's wonderfully articulate! I was compelled to tell him that he will "never get where he's going," because if that should happen he wouldn't have anything to look forward to, and that life is a process—a journey. For me, that child alone has made this day's journey bright.

       Joey's classes start back tomorrow. He's excited. I'm excited for him. Talk about a journey!