The morning after the election I woke up, felt a little raw, and wrote what I thought was a very nice blog post. It was truly how I felt. But then I went to a firm-wide volunteer day at the charity where I had been assigned and I may as well have blisters all over my tongue from how much I was biting it.
I was assigned to work at a local food kitchen for the homeless. In junior high our youth group served thanksgiving dinner to homeless people and I remembered liking the experience a lot, so I thought this would be very similar. I was either very unaware or my opinions have just drastically changed in 15 years, but I did not enjoy the experience nearly as much as I did back then.
I'll start out with the high point of my day: I was randomly picked by the volunteer coordinator to organize their clothing donation closet. I walked into a room with clothes all over the floor, hangers all over the place, trash bags thrown around - it was a mess. But there were nice cubbies with size labels on them, a clothing rack , and a tall rack for coats/sweaters. So I was assigned to organize a closet? "I MUST have been sent to the right place!" I thought.
My heart was full of compassion and love for the people who would be the recipients of these hand me down clothes. I wanted them to be folded nicely, hung in a nice orderly manner, and I really took pride in trying to make their "shopping" experience a good one. I enjoyed the few people who came in while I worked, talked some, and really was enjoying myself.
After that we had the task of preparing lunch, where I was unluckily assigned to dice 30 onions. That is a LOOOOOOOOOOT of onions. I overheard one of the employees telling the chef "we have some frozen onions in the freezer" and she said "no i want fresh today". While I wished she would have opted for frozen, I didn't blame her - use the fresh when you've got free hands to chop them! Even though my eyes hated me and my hands got blisters from the knife, I did like the idea that thanks to our firm donating our time the lunch served would be just a little more flavorful with some nice, fresh sauteed onions.
Then we served lunch.
And as lunch went on my heart turned. I heard hoots and hollers about Obama. I heard people talking about running our of their welfare money as I stared at freshly inked tatoos. I saw people in designer jeans, babies in high end baby gear, and people demanding certain particulars in their lunch. They were all offered 2 cupcakes (not sure why the dessert is served first...), one peanut butter and jelly sandwich, one meat sandwich, one bowl of bean and beef chili, cheese, roll, hand made salad, fresh chopped fruit, and hawaiin punch. They were eating pretty well, in my opinion, and better than I eat many days. And to hear "I don't want peanut butter, give me two meat sandwiches" just rubbed me the wrong way. Lunch is served for one hour, and that one hour felt like it lasted longer than the other 5 combined. I'm good at organizing. I'm good at chopping veggies. I'm good at cleaning tables and counters.
Apparently I'm not good at this sort of empathetic care. I walked out thinking, "I'm way too republican to be doing this" and wondering "is God trying to change my heart or light a fire in it?" because I was certain it had to be one or the other. I like to consider myself a loving person, and I feel like I can be compassionate about a lot of life circumstances. But I found a place where my heart struggles to pour out its love. I found a place where all I see is the stereotype and failed to find the possibility that maybe even just one person truly needed what they were given.
I'm still trying to churn over the experience. I don't know what I was supposed to learn from it, but I'm kind of thinking I missed the boat. I went in open minded with an open heart and I left very much the opposite. I guess that's better than not giving it a chance at all right? I went into it truly thinking I was going to serve the less fortunate. I walked away feeling like I'm a fool for paying the system that pays them. These people genuinely seemed to be just fine with their lives, some even seemed to enjoy it. If it wasn't costing our country so much for them to sustain it, I'd have no problems. And so I struggle. I see a need and a reason and I want to pour out my love, but I see so much abuse and evil that it's so, so hard. I'm really trying.
"Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me"
I'm really, really trying.
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