As the title implies, I spent the weekend volunteering at the Gospel Mission in Kelowna. Saturday I worked in the Helping Hands Thrift Store, and today, Sunday, I worked in the kitchen next door. The kitchen is located under a men's hostel, and served dinner to about 100 homeless, and poverty stricken, men, woman and even children. It was an experience I will never, ever forget.
On Saturday I saw generosity in action when people dropped off bags of unwanted clothing, toys and even furniture so that it could be sold to those who cannot afford anything else. Nice clothing for about $2 and usually not more than $10. I helped sort cloths and clean the store, and it felt good.
But nothing could have prepared me for today when I went down to the kitchen after church. I went to the back and met Janelle, who is in charge of preparing dinner this week. She's a first arts student at UBCO, and she set me in charge of cutting and buttering buns so that we could make sloppy joes.
A small group joined us, three teenagers and two ladies, who all go to Trinity as well. Together we made up a plate of cookies, Cinnamon buns, and tarts for Patrick to take out to the people who were already arriving. Janice asked if all the people coming tonight were homeless, and we were given the following answer.
"Not everyone who comes here is homeless. Some just have to chose between rent and food. They choose to pay rent, and come here for food. And some live in the hostel up stairs."
Chose between rent and food. Between being homeless and starving. How do you make that choice? I guess because of places like the Gospel Mission, the choice is a little easier, and it's the choice most make. But can you imagine having to make that choice. Think about that next time you drop $5 on a latte. "I can either have this, or a home."
So we made 150 buns for sloppy joes, made three tubs of salads, three huge trays of mashed potatoes and the meat and vegetable mix for the sloppy joes. For two hours we worked around the kitchen. At one point we were ahead of schedule and I was asked to do some cleaning in the back so that the kitchen could run more efficiently other days as well.
At 4:30 we were asked to get ready, form an assembly line and be a little quieter. Jamie was leading devotionals and prayer. Then there was a knock at the big window, which we opened, and the people started lining up. Within half an hour we had served probably 70 people. I was fighting back tears. There were men my grandfather's age, women who reminded me of my mother, young men and women who were probably no older than me. They had come here in search of what? Better lives? Money? Homes? Education? The paradise the Okanagan is supposed to be? Now they were living in constant survival mode, many on the street layered under coats, toques, mittens and boots.
A lady walked past me and asked if she could have an extra bowl of potatoes for her granddaughter. A peak over the counter suggested the little girl was no older than my sister, meaning probably 9 or 10. Of course we gave it to her. A little while later the girl came back and held up a younger girl, probably 4 or 5, who smiled brightly at us.
"She would like to know if you have any candy."
We didn't. I didn't even have any stashed in my purse I could share.
But smiles started to greet us as some of the people left. They thanked us and told us it was good. We ran out of salad and still there were people coming. They lined up and enjoyed the food and coffee. The room smelt of cigarettes and dirt, but also of a home cooked meal. Something we all too often take for granted.
Food. Real food, that we can live off of.
I saw faces I recognized from the thrift store yesterday. They smiled at me and sat down around the big plastic tables.
An atheist would ask "so, where is your God for these people?" and I think for once I know the answer. God was right there, standing beside these people, saying to them that there was hope and there were people who cared about them. God was standing in the kitchen guiding the hands, and more importantly, the hearts of all the people who were cooking, cleaning and preparing and planning. He was smiling at those who have given a huge part of their lives to helping those who need it the most.
Where is my God? He is pouring out his love on the people who need him more than anything. So he doesn't snap his almighty fingers and give them the world. Instead he moves the hearts, minds, hands and feet of willing (and sometimes not so willing) Christians to go and do their part. We are on mission here, and all over the world, loving on those who need it more than we do.
I got in my nice warm car at the end of the night, and in my rear view mirror watched people I'd served only moments before walk into the cold night. Some live on these streets.
Doug, who sometimes does dishes for the Mission, lived on the streets for years, he now lives in the hostel. I've never heard someone so happy to have gained 80 pounds. Yes, gained 80 pounds. He told me he had stopped drinking, and he'd never done coke. He was proud if that, that he hadn't done the drugs. He admitted he was apparently a bad judge of character, but he loved the people at the church he went to.
He wanted a bible from Janelle, because everyone else at the church had one.
"I wasn't sure," he told me, "if it was like AA, where you had to earn stuff, or had to go for a certain amount of time first. I'm new at this, so I didn't know. But when the guy is talking, and everyone knows what he's saying, and I want to know it too."
He told me how the church people were great. They were nice. They took care of him. He chatted on happily about going from 90lbs when he first got here, to 170 now. He had a smile that filled the room.
And the room was full. Full of life, and laughter even. But more than that it was filled with stories. The guys counted the plates as they washed them. Last I heard was 104.
One hundred and four stories in that room. Stories of lives broken, dreams shattered and hope lost.
One hundred and four stories that are all the evidence you need of a broken world. All the ammo you need to make this bleeding heart cry.
So where was my God tonight? He was feeding 104 people in the Gospel Mission.
Every man in that room is somebody's son. Every woman was once a little girl. Every person there once was, and some still are, a child. All they need is to be treated with dignity and respect, to be loved on and cared for. They are God's children now, and they always will be. He loves them, and moves us to help them. God didn't create the homeless person, he created the Christian to help them.
For the first time I'll quote my favourite verse. Micah 6:8 "He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God."
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