HOW SWEET IT IS

      So Rick is now the new Sunday gate keeper. Wendy just works weekdays. Seems like finding qualified folks to work that desk on weekends is a stretch.  But I like Rick—very nice young man. For the first two weeks he was there, I got the impression that he was almost too serious—no fun. Yesterday, though, I called to ask the number and ages of the children I should bring goodies for. Rick dutifully rattled off their genders and ages. Then he added one, "And we've got another little girl, only two years old, and she's just the cutest thing you ever saw!"

       So Rick's staid façade is out of the closet.

       Speaking of the closet, Phil is upbeat today, and I realized that he's among our pre-release folks. Just never paid enough attention to notice that before. What in HELL did that gentle soul do?

       Joey had rounded up two huge paper bags of soup makings. I got to pick and choose, to create just the right homemade flavor. I filled that pot to within 3 inches of the brim—the largest batch yet. For reasons unknown, I felt strongly that our crowd would be large today. Whatever is giving me these feelings never seems to miss—we had more than 40, and that enormous pot of soup was consumed.

       Joey boiled 3 dozen eggs, and I made deviled-egg sandwiches (31). At Joey's suggestion, I made 2 dozen chicken salad sandwiches from the pre-mixed salad we had used last week. When all was said and done, I had to hurriedly make an additional dozen sandwiches. That "soup-kitchen/sandwich" meal may sound unappealing to you, but it was embraced greedily by our customers. We got many thank-yous as they left. Sweet thank-yous—the kind that you know are heart-felt. THAT is the "spirit" I find at this "church" of mine.

       We have a tall, thin fellow among our homeless who has something of a handlebar mustache. He came to the counter to ask for another sandwich. I made him a whole one. "Oh," he said, "I can't eat it that way. Can you cut it up?" motioning to his mustache. I quartered it. No problem. Nice fellow.

       The family with the 6-year-old girl was at lunch, sitting with the 2-year-old and her mother. I got to have some alone time with "my" little girl. She was the first to come to the counter after Joey announced that the "residents" could come in. She was holding out a little fist to me—one dandelion, one morning glory, and one unidentified blue flower. I have them in a shot glass in my kitchen window now.

       Of course I had goodies for her. She was thrilled with the bright blue Beanie Baby bear and matching bottle of bubbles. She chose a pack of Juicy Fruit over Big Red, and I added some apple chewies.

       For the baby, I had a long-eared brown puppy (Beanie Baby). I thought she would swoon over it (I know I did), but she barely acknowledged it. The apple chewies went unacknowledged. She shied away completely, and I do understand. Her mother, though, was thrilled. Later, as I watched, that baby ate a hearty lunch (no mention of her not "liking" what was served), and her mother seems to be a well-adjusted person. Too, by the time the baby got well into her meal, I saw that the puppy was squeezed under her left arm, safe and warm… oh, the rewards are always too many…

       Very early in the day and well before we served the first meal, Mr. Huggy came by the kitchen. His color is good today, and he's walking a bit more sure-footed. He was smiling. Thankfully, I had my hands in the sink, peeling boiled eggs, so the only hug he could give me was the "shoulder hug." I remarked at how much better he looks this week and asked why. He said he had rested. I hope he stays on that train.

       Joey and I had many words about the vegan-terian while I cooked and he mopped. He must deal with her 5 days a week—really hard to imagine! Too, Joey says she's living at the shelter because she left her boyfriend and had no place to go (parents not an option—what a surprise). So I was ready for that veggie heffer by the time we opened the doors! We didn't have one thing on her "can eat" list. She didn't show.

       As I said, the other two children came in from church after everyone else had left. In fact, I was leaving the dining room when they came in. "Oh! I have some goodies for you!" I told them. They gathered around the table where I opened my bag. They are greedy and picky, and their sibling rivalry is alive and well.

       Outside, I found my 6-year-old blowing bubbles for the baby. Their parents were enjoying some time to relax with the kids. So I stopped to chat. The subject of next week's lunch came up, as Joey and I hadn't been able to think of a menu. "What would you like?" I asked them.

       Young people that they are, they had ideas about ribs and potato skins, but the daddy was smart enough to inquire about the source of our food—all contributions, or ordered from a supplier? Mostly ordered, I told him, but we can't get ribs, it's hard to do baked potatoes, and what we serve for Sunday lunch must be put together in about 90 minutes. All three parents were thinking hard! "How about chili," the baby's mother asked. "You make good chili!"

       "I do make good chili, but I haven't made it here," I told her. Somebody had made good chili there recently. Let's blame Miss Lillian. Anyway, the daddy said the quiches were so good that he'd like to have those again. The other parents agreed. I guess we'll have those again next Sunday. It seems redundant to me, but those folks eat 21 meals there every week, and to have the same food twice in 63 meals is not redundant—I had to do the math to understand their request.

       Okay, there's wine to drink, and feet to prop up. That's a wrap.