Feeding the World - One Bowl at a Time

As most of you know, I pretty much opted out of Christmas this year, choosing instead to focus on Advent, a time of introspection and waiting. Then Christmas came, and Father’s homily struck a chord: You have been given the gift of Jesus. What will you do with that gift? To me, that meant I have been given the gift of Jesus in my heart, and I needed to take a hard look at the blessings I have received, and find a way to give back.

One gift or blessing I have is my ability to write. I felt I’d been using that, writing blogs to create awareness of, for example, the issue of homelessness. Which made me feel good, sure, but it also made me a little uncomfortable. What was writing about it really doing? Was it really helping anybody, or was it just pointing out the problem and hoping someone else was inspired to do something about it?

The natural question arose of how far was I willing to go to help someone, what was I willing to do? After much thought, I realized that since I am probably the most gullible person in the world—I take people at face value—direct contact with the disadvantaged is not a good idea. My heart is too soft. I’ll pretty much fall for any sob story, and have already, several times over. I may chide Louis for being a cynic, but he’s kept me from making a well-intentioned mistake many a time.

For many years I tried prison ministry. The problem was the same. I pretty much believed everything I was told, and in time, everyone I tried to help came to ask me for “a favor.” Something I would not or could not do. And each time I would go to Louis and say this is what I’ve been told and what I’m being asked to do, and he would say, “No, that’s a scam, and here’s why.”

And so that friendship (or so I thought) would wither away, because I refused to be used like that, and once I knew that person was lying to me, I really couldn’t trust anything they said or did. The flip side of me being so gullible is once I catch you in a lie, like I did those private investigators, everything you say or do is thrown out the window as unreliable. Lying happens to be a personal pet peeve of mine. (Which is why the word Lies is included in the name of this blog.) Don’t do it around me. Just don’t.

So prison ministry is out. Another one of my friends volunteers at a homeless shelter. I thought about that, or volunteering in a soup kitchen. But again, I have a soft heart and will pretty much fall for any hard luck story someone tells me. Next thing you know, I’ll be emptying my pockets. So that’s not going to work. Not knowing what else to do, I donated some money to my local food pantry. Louis’s response was, “You gave money to the poor? That’s nice. I hope they got it.”

I’m sure they did, but it all felt very impersonal. So I went back to looking at my gifts. What are my gifts and what can I do to help? Well, one of my favorite things to do is make soup. I’m good at it. I can do it from home, on my own schedule, and people need to eat. I know how good a hot bowl of soup tastes on a cold day. I practically live on soup and fruit and cheese and crackers these days. I do a lot of crock pot cooking, and all leftovers go right into soup.

A year or so ago, as a project for my son's class in school, we had had five boys over here making soup, and it was great fun. I told them to each bring $5 and with another mom who had a van, took them shopping. We bought the ingredients--they took pictures of each other and the food in the cart--and then they happily chopped vegetables and opened cans. They really got into it, asking me, is this right, is this enough, how do these look?

And then it cooked. And cooked and cooked and cooked. I'm used to making soup for six, not sixty, and didn't account for it taking forever to heat up and boil. So the hours passed, and my ex brought pizza and pop over while the boys waited for the soup to not only cook, but cool in that huge steel pot I borrowed from the church, so we could transfer the soup to the containers we had (big plastic pretzel containers). Then the mom with the van came back and we went to the homeless shelter and got a tour and left the soup.

With the snow blowing so hard and it being so cold lately, I kept thinking about that day, and felt compelled to do it again. So I ventured out to a local thrift shop and asked if they had any soup pots, but she said no, there was a huge need for cooking pots and pans right now and they didn’t have any. It was true. I’ve never seen that store so bare. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen a lot of stores so bare lately—it’s certainly a reflection of the economy.

Still, to get in the spirit of things, I bought a ladle and a small half-gallon pitcher I could use to scoop the soup out, having faith that the soup pot would show up in time. The trip was not a waste, because I had two boxes of things to drop off that I had been carrying around in my car, and a huge bag of plastic bags for recycling, which they were thrilled to get.

So...as I'm driving home, trying to decide if I want to head out to a thrift shop or two further out, I suddenly hear in my head, "Go to Big Lots." Big Lots? I say? You sure about this? (This is me, talking to God, which I do all the time, have these conversations in my car--writers who talk to their characters will understand.)

Well, it's on the way home, so what do I have to lose? I go to Big Lots. I look all around, no pots. “So what was that all about?” I ask, looking up. “Ask the salesclerk.”

Being the shy soul that I am, I do *not* want to ask the sales clerk. Sometimes they act like you're really putting them out when you ask for help--especially this time of year. But then I overhear some not-so-shy soul asking her for something, and I realize she's not only friendly, but enthusiastic about her job.

So I go and ask her, “Do you have any big pots, for like, making soup?” Oh! Stock pots! We have all kinds. She leads me right to them, four sizes, all neatly displayed in a row. I got the biggest one, for $12.

I would have paid that at a thrift store, and driven across town to get it. So I got a $3 cake pan, too. Got to have some dessert to go with that soup, and I know cake mixes go on sale regularly, so I can just stock up when they do. I buy some of those Chinette paper plates, the sturdy ones, and some Ziploc bags, which I’m told by my friends at The Bookspa--who are living this little adventure with me online--that I can store the soup in.

I come home, and call my church to see if they know of any homeless shelters nearby. The one I had in mind is downtown, but what if there's one right around the corner and I don't know it? (It's embarrassing, how little we know about our own communities sometimes.)

Nope. The one I had in mind is the one to call. So I called them, and they were delighted to hear from me. All I have to do is call ahead and let them know when I am coming, and while they usually have someone there all day, they'll make sure someone is there to open the door. (It's an overnight shelter for men, not open during the day.)

And the best part is they have containers I can take and fill up and bring back.

So I made the soup, a very tasty Italian vegetable with pasta in it, and packed it up and took it over there, and now plan to do so once a month. It takes no extra effort. I go grocery shopping anyway--I can just pick up ingredients as I find them on sale. I make soup anyway--I can just make more and keep a little for myself. I run errands anyway, so I can just drop it off on one of those days.

It’s something I can do that works for me. And for the next two days, I can imagine someone enjoying a hot bowl of soup who wouldn’t have otherwise. I know the food won’t go to waste, and it goes directly to someone who needs it. It’s an indirect way of helping that’s personal, yet keeps me from situations where I could fall for a sob story. My only regret is that it seems like such a small amount, barely a drop in the bucket, but it’s a drop that wasn’t there before, and maybe someday will make a bigger difference.

I look at my friend Nora, and how her Book Club for Parolees has grown, and how much support she’s gathered, simply from an idea she had to start a book club. My next post (on Wednesday) will be her update on how that’s going…and it’s going extremely well.

So a big thank you goes out to all of you who donated for books. Every time she asks for help, people rally. So I thought I might ask for donations for ingredients to make soup, either actual food if you’re local, or a check or paypal donation if you’re not. Once a month is all I can handle right now financially, but as for the time to make it and deliver it…that’s pretty much inexhaustible. I’m here most of the day anyway, and the shelter’s not that far away. I can put a pot on in the morning and have it delivered by 4:00 p.m.

So that’s the result of my Christmas, and how I plan to give back. If you want to help out, contact me at liana (at) lianalaverentz.com.