Working in the soup kitchen was quite a humbling experience. I journaled on my own about it, far too lengthy to put here.
Basically, it gave me an appreciation for what I have/had.
Some of the men were complaining about the food served. I didn't understand how they thought they had a RIGHT to a certain kind of food. As an analogy, I thought I had a RIGHT to a loving family. I didn't understand that it was a privledge, not a right. I couldn't complain and not foster love and expect to have a loving family.
It really was quite a moving experience. One woman with her two sons who were twin boys about 2 years old came in last. They weren't wearing shirts and she was in dirty ripped clothes. We were out of food. I ran around trying to find them something, adn we found a little more. We gave it to them and she was cramming food into the boy's mouth. They were crying and she said, "Boys i done told you - you gotta eat cause we ain't comin back here till tomorrow and you gotta eat so stop ya crying"
Broke my heart, but at the same time made me appreciate a loving family.
I treated everyone there with respect, I called everyone Sir or Ma'am. I helped them as best as I could. Asked about their days. Some were very sad stories about their day. Maybe I'll post my journal about it later today.
I went home and all I wanted to do was tell my W and S how much I loved them and appreciated and respected them. Instead I went home to an empty house.
