day thirty-three: harvest(ing) hope

Hope can be difficult to cultivate. It's a delicate crop, one that's easily killed by frosty desperation or scorching fear. But the agency we donated to today has found a way to not only plant seeds of hope, but also to have those seeds grow...even to the point of cultivating the crop.

Jesus is the King of Kings, then Harvest Hope is the Food Pantry of Food Pantries. It is a food distribution center that helps stock food pantries of other organizations (e.g. United Ministries, the kitchen at the Rescue Mission, etc.).

And despite the name of the place, it doesn't seem very "organic" to drop off a box of food, and much less at a warehouse. When I did this morning, it felt so much like a transaction.

But maybe a box of Cheerios or a can of tuna could be a seed of hope for someone. After all, by the time a crop is ready to harvest, a lot has happened and it usually doesn't resemble the seed that was first planted - the seed has to germinate, take root, a shoot has to grow, then the crop has to bud and bear fruit.

As I dropped off this food, I thought of all it would go through: From the warehouse to different food pantries, then eventually to someone's home (or maybe to a homeless person's tent). Still, at the end of the process, maybe someone will be able to harvest a bit of hope from the seed we planted today.

The baby is ready to get this stuff out of the car...

They had me pull up to a loading dock...overkill for the two boxes of food we donated.

Finally! My car is empty! No more canned goods or water bottles!

day thirty-two: fertilizer

*Warning: This post contains adult language. Reader discretion is advised.


"Mary, Mary, quite contrary: How does your garden grow?"

One thing's for sure: It's not with silver bells and cockle shells. You've got to fertilize.

Today Suzy took mushroom compost to the organic garden at Travelers Rest High School (her alma mater, and also where my cousin Kevin goes to school...Go Devildogs!). Suzy walked into the school office and told them she had something for Ms. Chance, the teacher who oversees the garden. The lady at the front desk said to leave the bag with her, so Suzy plopped this bag o' compost on the desk...

...which sucks for the lady at the desk, because this stuff reeks. It smells like crap (which makes sense, since its compost). But that's the best kind of fertilizer. New life grows from that which is dead.

When I went under the bridge on day twenty-one, Tom (who works at the Rescue Mission) struck up a conversation with Adam, one of the addicts we met, and invited him to come to the mission to get some help. Adam said, "I can't go there. Too many rules, too many people telling you what to do. I don't wanna deal with all that bullshit."

I wondered how Tom would respond. But he calmly said right back, "Yeah, but bullshit is the best fertilizer. You ever grow tomatoes?"

"Yeah."

"Well to get good tomatoes you gotta put up with some bullshit to get 'em to grow. It's kinda like with us. God can even use the bullshit in our lives and get us to grow and be healthy."

I just noticed that there's a tomato on the package. Nice coincidence.

Tom went on to talk more with Adam, but I don't remember the rest. I was floored. I'd never heard someone preach with profanity (although I have fantasized about doing it myself, just never had the courage). But it was one of the best sermons I'd ever heard. New life grows from that which is dead.

I know some might think it would be blasphemous to talk about God and minister to others using profanity. But that's fertilizer.

day thirty-one: receiving

I'm sick.

I'm sinus-infection, head-about-to-explode, hurts-to-cough, every-hole-in-my-head-stopped-up, don't-want-to-move sick.

Today's activity was supposed to be at the hospital, but I couldn't even go into work, much less make a visit to the hospital. Hell, I barely made it from my bed to the couch! So, instead of offering culinary care, today I received it.

I'm not very good at receiving, though. I don't like to show weakness or be vulnerable or ever appear to fail. I always want to be in control, to have it all together, to succeed. I don't like asking for help, especially when I feel like I should be able to handle the situation (i.e. always). It's usually easier for me to extend grace to others than it is for me to receive it, from others or from myself.

So normally I would be freaking out that I wasn't able to do today's culinary care activity. In fact, I was. Even as I lay on the couch this morning hacking up a lung, I was trying to figure out a way that I could still get it done. 

Ridiculous? Absolutely. But this is the burden of my neuroticism. It's taken me a minor life crisis, a low-grade antidepressant, and several months of counseling, but I am learning. I'm learning to receive grace. And today, grace came in the form of simple bowl of soup.

Suzy was running errands this morning and brought me some Mexican chicken and rice soup for lunch. This soup is called different things at different restaurants, but it has shredded chicken, rice, pico de gallo, cilantro, diced avocado, and crunched up tortilla chips in a clear broth. Warm, a little spicy, and just the thing to make me feel better...along with the half-dozen medications I'm taking.

If this cocktail doesn't fix my sinus infection, maybe it will cure HIV/AIDS

This is what really makes me feel better

Just a bowl of soup. Just a day of rest. Just laying on the couch with my son. Just being able to receive all of these good graces.

And, by God's grace, I'll feel better tomorrow.