Tuesday, February 22, 2011

All you Need is Love

Where do you live?  What kind of car do you drive?  What do you do for a living?

These are questions that can usually be answered in a word.  Sometimes two, three or four words if detail or embellishments appear required.

Harry had a tough time answering these simple questions.  The landlord was threatening to evict him and his car needed repairs to be drivable.  What he did no longer qualified as making a living; he had spiraled downward from broke to impoverished.

Harry and I go way back.  We both put ourselves through college hustling fellow students who believed luck or steely eyed resolve won games of chance.  Harry became a mover and groover with a Midas touch.  He had a house with a scenic view to die for, took annual Caribbean vacations and got drunk on single malt scotch.  Yet, every five or ten years he made a bad choice or two.  He would lick his wounds, make a few resolutions, buckle down building a stake, roll the dice and move on to a new and glamorous enterprise.  The world moves on too -  Harry now gathers old furniture and appliances, makes repairs and sells them on craigslist.

Lately, he and I have been talking about changing times, “woulda shoulda coulda” and advancing years.  Harry, who always used to keep his troubles to himself, said, “I’m out of ideas and my life is collapsing on all levels.  My wife is leaving me, my back is out of whack, I’m going to be homeless soon and suicidal thoughts creep into my mind.”  He asked if I knew any solutions, but the only one I know is to just keep muddling on.


Last week he opened up his heart and told his pastor and some of his fellow churchgoers about the dire straits he was in.  “I was hoping for help,” Harry told me over coffee.  “In fact I outright asked for it.”

“What did they say?”  I asked.

“They told me to pray,” was Harry’s response.


JDA©2/22/11

 


Friday, February 4, 2011

The Spiritual Snowball Effect

The spiritual snowball began with two cases of frozen chicken and some cheese.  Roger grabbed them before they went into a dumpster.  It was three summers ago at a food brokers’ show.  He offered them to a friend, saying his own refrigerator and freezer was full.  There was too much for Jon and his wife Sarah to eat or store; they gave some to people across the street.  As it turned out, there were hordes of people in need of food – and the Lord provided.

Roger’s wife was a broker that wholesaled quality food to restaurants, bars, school systems, etc.  She told her husband that none of the food brokers returned foodstuffs to storage units after a show.  How much might be unused, and exactly when it would be available, was uncertain; charitable organizations usually couldn’t or wouldn’t come to pick it up.

Roger didn’t think wasting food was right.  Jon told him he knew plenty of people that would really appreciate food.  Roger began going with his wife to shows all over the Midwest, and started bringing more boxes to Jon and Sarah.  They could contain anything from whole, ready for slicing, deli turkey to six pound cans of corn or mixed-fruit and all sorts of breadstuff.

A few boxes turned into a dozen cases.  Much of the food was frozen or perishable.  It had to be stored or used soon.  Sarah enlisted the help of two ladies in the Section 8 building across the street.  She told them to bring carts, take as much as they wanted, and, “if you can, give a little to someone else.”

It wasn’t long before Roger also gathered goods when the broker had excess inventory, food lines were dropped or a storage location was moved.  A dozen or so cases turned into enough to fill a large pick-up, both bed and cab.  Jon helped unload onto his back porch as well as the kitchen and dining room.  Sarah began calling more people to come get free food.

Take a peek at one day last August; there were dozens milling around the back porch:

“Mussels, mussels.  Anybody want mussels?”  shouts Beth, Sarah’s daughter,  “We’ve got hot chicken wings, chicken nuggets and chicken strips.  We have all types of fish fillets plus spiced apple, chocolate, and carrot cake mixes.  We have wheat bread, French bread and cinnamon rolls.  Who wants what?”

Sarah sorted through the various cases.  Auntie Linda helped fill the bags and carts people brought over. Connie’s teenage nephews carried boxes to cars for older folks.  Rose made deliveries to men and women unable to get around without crutches or walkers.  Carl took rolls, sausages, pasta and spaghetti sauce to those in need at his church.  Angela baked cakes for a birthday party in the senior community room.  Joanne cooked hot meals for a blind widower and a wheelchair bound woman.  Lots of folk, many without money to ever buy extras, shared their blessings.


This has now been going on for almost three years: often every few weeks or so, but sometimes a month or more goes by.  There’s usually a few days notice that something may be available, sometimes just a couple hours.  Lots of people have had a chance to contribute or share; many do.

Roger hasn’t gone to church in decades.  He doesn’t think about ministries or missions.  He simply gathers food and makes deliveries, sometimes in-between and around a 16 hour work day.  Once he spent most of a freezing night under his pick-up, repairing it so he could get and deliver a full truckload to Jon and Sarah.  He often makes a 90 mile special round trip.  Roger turned away, red in the face, when told about how one woman tearfully gave thanks because all her money was just spent on car repairs with nothing left to feed her four kids.

Roger says he just doesn’t like food going to waste.  Jon says he just unloads some boxes.  Sarah says she just makes a few calls.  Rose says she just drives a few miles. Joanne says she just likes to cook.

No one thinks they’ve done much.  Things just started rolling, got bigger.  Some say it was the Holy Spirit in action.


PawPawJack©12/14/10