LOOKING HOMELESS

       Eight or ten folks were sitting in the foyer when I went in this morning. No gatekeeper in sight. We ALL wanted IN, and that's when I realized I'd left my phone in the car. So I fetched the phone and called in. "We need in," I said. In seconds a cute young man let us all in. I haven't had an opportunity to  introduce myself, but I've heard his voice on Saturday nights when I call to see how many children to prepare for. Pretty sure I like him.
       Joey was mopping and sweeping. He'd put a large sack of canned soups on the work table for me, and a bag of flour. He'd put two huge cans of fruit cocktail in the refrigerator.
       I selected from the cans he'd provided, then chose others from the mystery box until I thought the combination of flavors would make a decent soup… yes, soup… I don't want to hear about. Oh! And one man in the foyer said, "Last Sunday, all we had was leftovers!" I told him that was because I wasn't there.
       After the big pot of soup was put on to simmer, I started on the biscuits. Who knew? It takes 8 cups of flour, about 2 cups of milk, and a stick of margarine to make 50 biscuits. I took my own tools, and we had biscuits shaped like hearts, stars, moons, and little circles. One of our residents got a heart-shaped biscuit that was not smooth on top. I apologized that his heart was a bit crumpled looking, and he said that was okay—it would go well with his real one.
       Our pre-release numbered half a dozen. They were a lively group, and Joey spent a lot of time bantering with them. One fellow found a tiny piece of ham in the soup, and Joey was obliged to make him some fried fish… but the banter was long and of good nature. We've certainly seen the reverse of that!
       During that time, a man and a teenager came to offer the shelter an enormous trailer of potatoes! They'd given half the trailer's load to another kitchen nearby, but we could take only one box. You know how hard it is to get raw food peeled and cooked at our kitchen… But the man—he had on this t-shirt that said, "Don't GO to church! BE church." I loved it, and I told him so!
       Our homeless numbered about 30, and 6 or 8 or them didn't come in until the last minute. To my surprise, and not on gatekeeper's list when I called last night, we have a new 6-year-old girl and her mommy. I was not as prepared for her as I could have been, so when I gave the dolly I'd taken to the 2-year-old, the 6-year-old naturally wanted it! I gave her a very cuddly little bear, and told her that she had surprised me, but that I do have a dolly that I will bring to her next week. She seemed happy with that news and the crayons and gum I gave her. My 2-year-old did not smile, but she surely snatched up that baby doll and gave its curly, curly hair and its clothes a thorough going over. Ah, the magic of dolls.
       The lady with 4 boys didn't come to lunch today, but the family with the newborn and the 5-year-old boy did. He's such a polite, gentle child, and I love that his father is always holding the baby—the tiny baby who has not cried in my presence and who has grown considerably in the weeks he's been there. For him, I had a soft little giraffe with a rattle in it. For his brother I had a funny monkey, and he loved it.
       So the children were all pacified, and the two older ones were coloring together in the foyer when I left. But today was different. Today the homeless looked so homeless. They were cheerful and they enjoyed their meal, but something about them was "more" than usual. Generally, they seem "mostly okay," but not today. They are homeless. I need to stop wondering why the newborn's mother has never smiled, or why the 2-year-old's mother can be demanding and angry, or why a man might compare his heart to a hard, crumpled biscuit.