wanderlust: November 2008

It's a family tradition--every Thanksgiving (and sometimes even Christmas), we find a church or organization that is serving meals to the poor, and volunteer our time, talents, and help. We've done this since I was about 6. However, I haven't really appreciated the opportunity to serve, as I should have, until last year.

For years, I took it for granted. It was always about "Are we going to get food after this?" I only thought of myself, my own comfort.
But last year, we were serving at the Greek Orthodox church in Salt Lake City, Utah. I was packing food in doggie boxes. I was watching the disgruntled and disheveled individuals pass through the lines, their clothes ragged and dirty, their teeth rotting and yellow. I thought of my warm bed at home, my fridge full of food, my well-used toothbrush and the several extras just laying dormant in the closet. I remember one woman in particular: She was small, petite, with long grey hair, impossibly wrinkly face, and a foreign accent. When I handed her a plate of pumpkin pie, she thanked me, her eyes moist. Every time I passed her, she thanked me in the same heart-felt tone. To me, my action was simple: I had only given her a slice of pumpkin pie and a small turkey dinner. But, perhaps, this was the only hot meal she'd had in months, maybe even years. Perhaps I had helped make a dream come true, simply by smiling and offering a few seconds of my time.

This year, I hoped for a similar experience. I didn't want to think of myself; I'd get my turkey dinner later, at home. I helped an old man carry his food to his table, and throughout his meal he'd thank me. Another old man thanked me and smiled his crooked smile, genuinely grateful. When I asked a black woman, mother of five, if she needed anything, the look she gave me could have torn down the strongest warrior. She thanked, smiling hugely, and told me I was "so nice." I was on my feet the entire time, from 10-2pm. We served 700 take out boxes and 700 in the cafeteria, using 100 turkeys. I couldn't sit still when someone needed help. I just wanted to help. And the top of the pitcher ONLY fell off ONCE, spilling Sierra mist all over the table and one guy's backpack, so I was fortunate.
(However, near the end, I felt like the Barbie at the end of Toy Story--"My cheeks are killing me! I can't keep smiling like this. I think I need a break. A little break? *sigh* Okay." Had I really been smiling that much? haha)

It was an indecribable experience. It was incredible. I curse myself for the years lost in selfishness. These last two years of this tradition have been amazing. I know that many of those 1,400 people served may have returned to sheds or cardboard boxes, and my service may have been fleeting, I'm just grateful for the opportunity to help them, to lighten their hearts, even momentarily---but I wish I could do more.

I came home and thought: "Here I am, at my large, warm, cozy house. I can go wrap up in my cushy blankets and read "Suite Scarlett." I can go use a flushing toilet or a hot shower. Here's my fridge, stocked with food. Three turkeys. Two pumpkin pies. A cherry pie. Edy's Chocolate Peanut Butter Chunk ice cream. Left over Indian. Clean water. Tortilla chips. Baby carrots. And I always say, "There's nothing to eat!""

How ignorant am I?
(Let's keep in mind, I'm typing on my laptop, with fast internet, listening to iTunes, curled up on my comfy couch. Psh.)

I am incredibly blessed. Things aren't perfect in my family---far from, actually---but we're alive, we have a house. We have food, clothing, money, talents, violin lessons, a washer and dryer (I've learned to appreciate those over the last few weeks, as we didn't have a dryer and had to do it old-fashioned way, with clothes pins, and it took two days for clothes to dry), a dishwasher, a TV, three computers, a piano, a couch, beds, blankets, socks (I am very grateful for socks!), uber lots of movies, stereos, music, pots and pans, spices, chairs, tables, mirrors, books, shelves, silverware, shoes, hairspray, toothpaste, flusing toilets, two showers, sinks, running, clean water, pens, paper, coats, jewelry, friends, pictures, air conditioning, heater, glass in our windows, doors, a yard, a tether ball, the ability to read, school books, freedom, hair, healthy bodies, jobs, walls, a roof, the gospel of Jesus Christ, the scriptures, each other. These are only a few of my blessings. And I am eternally grateful for them.

Honestly, it's not fair that I should have all this and so many people have nothing. I once received an email with pictures of children in Africa; it broke my heart to pieces. The children were skin and bones, and one boy wore old plastic water bottles with ragged straps as a substitution for shoes. When I have 30 pairs of perfectly comfortable shoes. I guess the commandment to impart of our substance has been on my mind a lot lately. I just wish I knew how I could help more.

At least I have one bit of advice that is easy to remember and perform:

"A smile is the simplest act of service, and it only takes a second to perform."

And everyone knows how a smile can brighten your day. I am very aware of this.
I hope that by smiling I can help someone. It's the least I can do.

Since I'm discussing things for which I'm grateful, it's only appropriate to mention you---all of you, my friends. Thank you for everything you have ever done for me, even if it was insignificant, even if it was just a smile. It means the world. You mean the world to me. Thank you! I love you so much.

So this lovely Thanksgiving (two more things for which I'm grateful: holidays and sunshine), what are you thankful for?