Saturday I served lunch at Our Daily Bread. Every day they serve a hot lunch to 700-900 homeless and working poor. For this task they daily need 35 (!) volunteers. Four stations, four tables per station. In each station a server asks “Vegetarian or Regular?”, a runner dashes up front for the plate, there’s also a tea pusher, a water pourer, a place wiper/setter, and a bread maiden (me!). The bread is in big baskets that dangle on the arm. I kept skipping around asking people if they wanted bread. I felt like Heidi and wished I could put my hair in pigtails.
OK. OK. In the interest of the whole truth, the organizers didn’t ask for a ‘bread maiden’ they just requested a bread ‘person’. At first I was very good. Sober, responsible, focused. But the basket over the arm, the hustle, the people, it didn’t take too long before I corrected my coworkers when they said, “Having fun bread person?” With a curtsy or a skip, I grinned, “I’m the bread maiden, thank you very much!”
The odd thing for me was being on the serving end of the deal. Growing up, my Dad’s non-profit housing firm was often VERY non-profit. At one point my parents knew there would be no income for 6-8 months. I remember Mom asking us kids if we thought that Dad should keep doing the housing ministry or if he should quit and get a job (note: he graduated from Dartmouth and Harvard Law and quit working as a GE executive to start Sign of the Cross Housing). As a 7 year old, I figured if God said He’d take care of us, He would. What’s the worry? We went on Food Stamps and got very good at knowing who was serving free meals where and when. Our church had a Wednesday night dinner followed by a worship service. We had lots of nice white (usually) suburban people serve us food. I never noticed them (unless there was a cute guy to target with a crush).
If you grow up with something, no matter how abnormal, you assume it’s the norm until proven otherwise. So, my strange norm is that of course people will give me things I need. Why wouldn’t they? Sadly, once you’ve taken that for granted, you start to get picky about what you accept. As a server Saturday, I was humbled by all the possessions I take for granted now. I felt profoundly grateful for my blessings. Yet when I was being served, I took the service for granted and started to become demanding rather than grateful. “Those pants are ugly, let’s wait for the next clothing donation, there will be something better in there.”
In light of those ingrained reactions, figuring out the Korean customs for giving and receiving took me awhile. I felt completely intimidated by the quality and thoughtfulness of my Mom-in-law’s gifts. Totally inadequate to figure out how to reciprocate. It’s beginning to feel natural, the language of gift and obligation, but I still have unexpected relapses.
We had dinner at a friend’s house on Sunday night. We’d helped them move a while ago so the dinner was a thank you for helping them. At the end of the night they gave us a ribbon wrapped roll of paper, which announced their intention to make and bring us homemade meals once a month for six months to thank us for all we’d done. Because they know my husband, they’d included the line, “You’ll take it and you’ll like it!” Jrex was horrified. He’d been more than happy to help and this was an overwhelming thank you gesture. We’d both been perfectly content with the lovely dinner they’d already made us; there was no need for any further reciprocation. Yet the sad truth is that my gut reaction was, “Well, if you’re that determined, why should I stand in your way!? Good food, no effort on my part? Excellent!”
My Korean cultural adaptation is clearly still incomplete . . .
5 comments:
I decided to post a comment at least 1/mo since I love reading yours so much. Do you remember Ernie Mynett at all? He is the person that encouraged us to move to OTR. 1st time I heard that quote was from him: "You can take a ... out of OTR, but you can't take OTR out of a ...".
I helped at the Hospitality Center here when I first came; Portland's homeless are more apparent than home's because they sleep on the streets. My 1st instinct back home would be to check if they're still alive but here it looks like a big pajama party in the rain which it's not, of course. I think that kinship with the poor is something you need to remember to make you whole.
When I was little our family didn't have a car. One of my favorite things was to go for a drive at night with my girlfriend, Willie's, family. Our quest was to see a man in polka dot pajamas talking on the telephone. I still look for him! And in Portland it is possible because everyone is so starved for sunlight that they keep their windows "undraped". If you see a house with curtains drawn, it probably means they're recent migrants from another state.
One last comment: Teaching M.to "bump" reminded me of how Harper's Dad taught him "noggins". Same idea, funny name. He used to come up and say, Noggins, noggins" and only a select few knew what he meant.
Wait, wait! One more comment! The name of this site...do you remember Jessie's middle name, or that Sojourner Truth came through Ohio and, that the underground railroad came through Cincinnati? I think these all somehow interconnect with your blog. love you
I think part of the reason I don't do a blog is because you write what I feel.
On a similar note, I happily accept offers of help, even if the person is just being polite. If they were foolish enough to offer, then that is their mistake.
You earned this! In this situation there is absolutely no reason either to question your perspective on charity / gifts or to feel the need to reciprocate.
I stand by my belief that one meal a month for six months is a drop in the bucket compared to all you guys did to help us move. It was because of you that we emerged from that crisis period largely unscathed. Thank you!
I hope you enjoy the meals and think nothing more of the issue. Sitting back and simply enjoying something you earned is not a character flaw.
L.
Thanks for all the comments! I like your resolution, OTR mama!
I've always loved Jesse's name and the story of Sojourner Truth. I LOVE ST's "And Ain't I a woman?" speech. I did a calligraphy version and had it on the door in college. So, yeah, I had all that in mind when I named the site. We even included in our wedding vows the idea that we would shelter sojourners who came our way.
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