I just realized that it has been nearly a week since I last wrote or posted to my blog. I wonder why that is.
It’s been an eventful week.
First of all, my mom’s surgery last Wednesday has come and gone, and proved to be quite anticlimactic. No tumor or cance was found. The surgery was brief, and mom was home by 3. I suspect my new-found hero, Marcus Borg, might disagree with me, but I believe that this lack of cancer was purely miraculous. It was there, now it’s not.
I struggled through a boring Thursday and Friday, then Friday evening survived an attack by the killer house cat. Yes, you heard right. I have a major wound on my finger from where this killer chomped down… HARD. In his defense, it was a purely autonomic response caused by a seizure. He didn’t mean to bite and cause me 48 hours of intense pain! He’s forgiven… was forgiven the moment he released his bite. He never really NEEDED forgiveness!
Saturday, I spent the day preparing the ingredients for a rather large meal. And Sunday morning, I COOKED that rather large meal, feeding about 75 people breakfast… mostly homeless folk.
Now THAT was an experience. It was a GOOD experience. No, it was a GREAT experience. From the arrival at church at 7:15 a.m. until we left.
I had great assistants. Gary was there, and a newer member of our congregation, Michael. Karla got there soon after. And then James, one of the people we feed, showed up… and turned out to be great at cooking. Of course, Scott was there, too, working 5 times harder than I did.
We cooked 40 pounds of potatoes, 200 sausages, 12.5 dozen eggs, and 6 gallons of Orange Juice. And 3 pounds of onions.
But, really, the most awesome part was just to stand in the serving line and watch the reactions of 75 mostly homeless people, children and elderly alike. To plop 2 sausages on a plate and say “Goodmorning, sir (or ma’am)”, and to see their smile, and hear their reply, “Thank you”. To receive their applause and know that I made a difference that morning.
Is it wrong to say that? I’d have done it even if they didn’t respond, but it seemed all that more special to know they appreciated it.
I guess it was that “Eric Camden” moment, needing, wanting to do something for someone else. And realizing that compassion is more than a feeling. It’s an action compelled by gratitude.
But it was exhausting, too. I spent most of the remainder of Sunday passed out on the sofa, stirring only to do another load of laundry.
A new definition of a successful weekend to me: Feeling like, for once, I accomplished something of meaning.
It’s a good feeilng.
On The Road II 