Food…. For Thought…..

Just Thinking….

A child peered through the back seat window. Her nose was dripping, and she was wiping it with her sleeve. A baby slept in the arms of the driver. No child seat was in the car. A green tape on the windshield had the number “2: written on it. The driver motioned to the back and said, “Trunk.”

We began to pack food into the trunk.

Two sacks made from old T shirts containing rice, beans and oats. Two boxes of meat. Two tote bags of apples, oranges and grapes. Four dozen eggs. 4 quarts of frozen liquid eggs.

We motioned to the driver and he rolled up the window and drove off. The next car pulled up. The number on the green tape was “1”. We packed in food for one family.

For four hours cars, pickups, and walkers came for food. We served about 1000 families during that time. Screeners visited the cars as they were parked at the convention center, determining how many families were represented in each vehicle and affixing the green tape. Four stations on two lanes processed the food to bumper to bumper vehicles. The food giveaway started at 9:00, but some vehicles had been in line since 6:00.

I was a volunteer and it was my first time to work with Food Bank. I did not know what to expect. It was cold and I was bundled in a long sleeve shirt, a vest, a puffy coat, gloves, a hood, and of course, my mask. Not all the people in the cars had that much clothing. The child who peered through the back seat window was in a T shirt.

Most of the vehicles were in various stages of rust. Many had the headlights and windows duct taped to hold them on. Some cars held just the driver; others were packed. Some surprisingly were late model Caddies, Lincolns and Mercedes, whose drivers were coifed and well dressed. Those vehicles, too, carried people who did not look well off.

I remembered what the organizers told us: That those in poverty may not have vehicles. That friends give them rides. That we might err on determining how many families were represented in each vehicle, but the food will not go to waste.

In some vehicles, it was difficult to find a place to put the food. Sacks of soda and beer cans filled the space. Fast food containers littered the floor. “Junk” was in the way. Some cars looked as if the driver lived in the car.

Many of the people looked beaten down…. prematurely old. The ravage of their years showed in their faces. Eyes with little light looked at us briefly and then turned away. Race and age were not particular; poverty strikes all.

My “judgy” self held a one way conversation inside my head: How can this person afford to smoke….. to have tattoos….. to have jewelry….. and need free food? The smell from some cars and pick ups just about made me vomit. How hard was it to clean out a vehicle?

Then I had a “God moment.” I did not know their stories. I did not know the mistakes they made in high school. I did not know the history of their lay-offs. I did not know how sick they might be. I didn’t know the stress that led to smoking and addictions. I didn’t know if they had backgrounds where they never learned to handle money or manage a home. I didn’t know their handicaps. I didn’t know how difficult it might have been for them to come ask for food. Who was I to judge? It could have been me if things were different.

From that point on, I determined to see the people in each vehicle as precious humans in God’s image. I greeted them with a “Good morning!” I waved as they passed by. Some would not look at us. Some had limited English. Many did not say thank you for whatever reason. But I still passed on a wave and a greeting.

When the event was over, I was exhausted. But it was good. God had shown me much about my fellow humans…… and much about me. And God…. please bless the children and the families.

Father….. forgive my judgmental attitude. Remind me of where I came from. Show my the opportunities to reach out for Your glory.

To God be the glory…..

bug