WHERE'S THE SOUP?

       Change. Without a bit of shaking up, I guess things would be too boring to bear, so today we were "shook up."

       "Crusty Old Gal" was keeping the gate. I haven't seen that woman in months! She's not that crusty—especially if there is food in the offing, and she does peruse the kitchen often, nibbling, snacking, leaning toward the stove for a glimpse of dinner. I should probably re-dub her as "Jolly Plump Lady."

       Anyway, yesterday word came down (from ?) that the metal curtain between the kitchen and dining room would remain closed except during mealtimes. No coffee breaks. No gab fests. Nothing. Heck, even the dining room lights were off. For a minute, I thought Doug might be late again, but he was in the kitchen counting out slices of soy meatloaf for the dinner meal. And he was excited to show me that we had JUST received enough donations to feed lunch two times over, and more. A newly opened grocery had brought dozens of pre-packaged salads (with meats and cheeses in them), a half dozen 13-gallon plastic bags of deli breads, three or four wooden crates of strawberries, as many grapes, and a 13-gallon bag of fresh bananas. We could have fed four times as many people as live at our shelter.

       Sadly, all of those foods are perishable. I picked through the strawberries (about half good), sliced and washed them, did the same with the grapes (all good), and then the bananas, making an enormous bowl of fruit salad. It was eaten like there was no tomorrow. They don't know it yet, but they can have that again tomorrow and the next day… if somebody will take the time to prepare it.

       We put the salads on the counter, let folks choose, handed out yummy pita breads, and all-you-can-eat fruit bowls. There was great interest in the fare, and I was most surprised to hear, from time to time, "Where is the soup?"

       The little girls and their mother were the first to come to the 12:00 meal. They took their time eyeing the foods, one child reaching eagerly for a bowl of fruit. Her mother snapped hatefully at the child, "Don't TOUCH anything!" I introduced our vast selection of salads, but the mother stuck up her nose and said, "They don't eat those foods." That would include lettuce, cheeses, chicken, tomatoes… To my surprise, she did allow the girls to have a bowl of fruit. Some minutes after they were seated, I noticed they had little cups of microwavable macaroni & cheese. Doug says they often have Ramen noodles. This is poor nutrition at its best, and it was all I could do to not hint to that young (pregnant) woman that Social Services might take an interest in her children's deprivation.

       Of course, I gave the girls some toys and gum, but they never even looked up at me. Mom had them totally cowed. Doug says this is daily fare with that family. You know, at some point (soon), this mother will be obliged to give birth, and I do wonder what will become of the girls during that interim.

       "My boy" was not at lunch, but his buddy was. I gave him the goodies I'd taken, and his mother was so excited to see a Frisbee, "We're going to the park this afternoon!" Later, I asked him if his yo-yo string was still good, and he said it wasn't working right—just hitting bottom and spinning. He brought it to me. I wound it up and gave it a good yo-yo workout.

       "Your string is good," I told him. "Wind it tightly, and yo-yo like you're in charge—put some muscle into it." He caught on quickly, and left happy.

       A woman then came to the counter to tell me that "my boy" had gone out to lunch with his dad today, that the boys were best buddies, and that if I had something to give the missing child, she'd pass it on to him. She simply couldn't stand the thought of one boy returning from an outing to see that he'd missed the Frisbee. It was my pleasure to entrust my boy's goodies to that woman. The reality is: They are all homeless, they are mostly alone, but they live in the same home, and they are family.

       Today was an opportunity for me to sift through the ups and downs, to stand back and observe, and to appreciate what I have, as well as what I don't have. Sometimes, what we don't have is the best thing that we have.