Bells
are tolling 11:00am. We are expecting almost one hundred and fifty
homeless people to arrive for lunch in about four hours. Historic
First Presbyterian
Church
in downtown
Napa
makes its kitchen and dining room available to various charitable
groups in the local area who rotate taking on donating and
preparing
sit-down
meals for them. The group I'm assisting with today
comes around
on the third Thursday of every month. If you think of assisting as
a
way
of (quote unquote) helping people, don't.
Why?
It's arrogant, and
inauthentic.
You are no different than the people you're assisting. To be sure,
the hungry and the homeless will benefit from what you're doing.
But the key to making assisting
work
is to
get
more out of doing it, than you put in. That's the real
gift.
Although someone who has not eaten in a while may not be focused on
it, it's there for them to
get
from what you do. And what you
get
from them is the opportunity to assist, to
serve.
I have eight large bags of potatoes. I
intend
to wash them before I peel them. They're covered with traces of mud
and dirt. Peeling unwashed potatoes transfers mud and dirt to the
exposed flesh. So: wash dirty peeled potatoes later? Or wash dirty
potatoes now, then peel them clean? It's a no-brainer. I fill one
of two big sinks with cool (not cold)
water,
then I
empty
the potatoes into it, allowing
the water
to rise until they're all covered. Using a clean green Scotch
Brite scouring pad, I scrub each one clean, rubbing off
any sprouted eyes in the process. Each potato is different, unique.
Each has its own personality if you will. When they're
clean, I drop them into the second sink, also filled with cool,
clean
water.
I notice my tendency to rush ie to try to
get
the job done faster - which I can do, but only if each potato isn't
100% clean. So I revert to a slower, thorough pace. It takes
longer. No, it's more than that: it seems like with so many
potatoes, it will take forever. I've settled into a regular
rhythm, going after each speck of dirt and unwanted blemish. I
wouldn't want to bite into my lunch and
get
a taste of residual mud. I don't want our guests to either.
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