Since I was unable to fly home to MN during Thanksgiving
week (because I could fly to MN…..or
Paris for the same price!) I spent some time volunteering at the Winter
Interfaith Shelter in San Francisco.
The first night I was there was “opening night” of the
Winter shelter. Thirteen of us gathered
in a church kitchen, cooking everything from scratch --meatloaf, potatoes, a variety of steamed
vegetables, 2 desserts, dinner rolls,
pats of butter.
We watched them as they checked in at the door and found a place at a table. Before dinner could be served, the rules of
the shelter were read aloud to everyone. The men get a 7-day pass to the shelter. So for 7 days, they know they will have a hot
dinner, a place to sleep and breakfast in the morning. After the rules were read, one man raised his
hand to ask a question. He was visibly
dirty, tired, thin, and rather young (I would guess mid-forties).
“Do we get to take a shower?” he asked. And all I could do was stare at him from
across the room seeing the hope in his eye of hot water and soap. In my head, I kept replaying his words, “get
to,” “ get to,”
“get to.”
I’d never thought of a shower as a
privilege. And it lead me to think about
what I take for granted, what I complain about, what I get to do.
Get to take a
shower. Sometimes more than once if I get
to go the the gym.
Get to make coffee
every morning. Get to go to my job. Get to
drive my car. Get to eat three times
a day, every day. Get to do my laundry. Get to
know where I am going to sleep each night, not just for one week.
My friends said I was doing, ”such a good deed.” The truth is, I felt guilty because being there
brought me such a sense of joy and honor getting to meet these men and the other
volunteers. To have the pleasure of cooking and preparing food with
so much thought and love behind it, and to say,
” Welcome. We have a place for you
here.”
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