DiggIn’ – Gardening, Unemployment and the Quest that is Life

How to Feed 100 Homeless People When You Are Unemployed

I have a deep-seated fear brought on by this deep recession; a fear that society will unravel; a fear that the strong will unthinkingly devour the weak while the line between the two becomes increasingly indistinct. I keep this fear buried in the darkest corner of my soul in a strong, iron box with a chain wrapped around it and a lock on the chain. There it stays, night and day, securely contained as an irrational fear should be.

Yet I cannot throw the key to the lock away.

Thus, when I stood before the volunteer table for Tent City 4 at my church, I signed up to feed 100 homeless people though I am unemployed and have no means to do so. It was a way to confront my irrational fear, a small action to weave thread through the present tears in our societal fabric.

Here’s how that one meal made it to the table:

1. Don’t do it alone – Before I signed up, I had already organized a group of 10-15 people to help prepare the food, donate items and serve the meal. I was heartened to find I knew great people who not only were willing to serve the meal but did so enthusiastically.
2. Don’t look in only one place for great people – I found great people to help me at my church. That’s not the only place great people exist. One of the women in our group went to her daughter’s volleyball game and was so excited about the meal, she told everyone there. Next thing she knew her daughter’s volleyball team decided to sponsor a meal for Tent City.
3. Be organized – Tent City organizers provided me a To Do list of items we needed to bring. I then acted as meal team leader to make sure someone was donating each of the items. The items ranged from disposable plates to two gallons each of milk and juice. There was no item that was too expensive for even me, an unemployed person, to provide.
4. Keep it simple – I found it daunting to organize a meal for 100 people. So I opted for proclaiming the meal a potluck. Each person brought an entree, vegetable and rice/pasta/bread for 8-10 people. This worked out very well and the Tent City residents enjoyed the variety.
5. Expect a bit of chaos and miscommunication – Organizing a group of 10-15 volunteers to make a meal for 100 people is a huge undertaking. No matter how well you plan and execute the effort, things will most likely not quite go as you expect. In the case of this effort, there was a scheduling conflict with the room where the meal was usually served.  After a flurry of confused emails from me and a few terse ones back from certain frustrated parties, we were eventually told we would be serving our meal outside. Thank goodness we’d gone with the pot luck idea as we had no way to cook food. We were lucky and had beautiful weather. Our meal turned into a wonderful picnic for the Tent City folks. So chaos, confusion and miscommunication can still deliver gifts: just expect them and when they show up, don’t let them taint the experience for you.

So the meal went well. We had everything from broccoli cheese casseroles to pizza. We were concerned that we didn’t have enough food, but even that worked out. On sunny days, many of the Tent City folks visit friends around town and not all of them show up for dinner. We ended up feeding about 50 people. We had enough with even a few leftovers.

As I served the Tent City folks, I was surprised to see the majority of them making very healthy food choices. Oh, all right, so the pizza did go first! That’s to be expected. Still most all of the residents took a good helping of salad. After everyone had their first serving, many came back for another helping of salad. Most of the residents were dressed in the usual jeans and tee shirts that are common here in the Pacific Northwest. In other words, they were dressed just as I was.

As I continued to serve, I developed a deep sense of “there but for the grace of God go I”. Unemployed as I am, I saw how fuzzy the line was between me and them, how indistinct. I thought of my fear locked in that iron box buried in the darkest corner of my soul, the chain with the lock tightly wrapped around it. I knew then why I cannot throw away the key: in these trouble times, it is a rational fear.

Yet, on that sunny day standing outside serving those who were less fortunate than I was when I was down on my own luck, I realized hope does not recognize or succumb to rational fear.

On that day, I knew my little wildling will emerge, delicate green on the remaining snow.

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