Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Volunteers and Vittles


Today's post is actually a repost that I ran across while tweaking some things on our website...

On July 24, 2010, Manna Café carried out its first Mobile Pantry with the help of some of the most selfless servants I've ever met. Here's the story of that event: 

Two and a half years ago, Kenny and I were using a borrowed utility wagon (in his words, a glorified little red wagon) to distribute muffins and bagels to the homeless folks in Tent City—the community of tent-dwellers who lived near the river until the flood of 2010 drove them out. This past Saturday, with the help of Fellowship Church and Second Harvest Food Bank, we gave away two trailer truckloads of food. That’s about 30 thousand pounds. Three hundred twenty-five families received everything from whole hams to peanut butter, pasta, bread, and organic veggies. Many families had more than four people per household, so if you do the math, you can safely assume that we touched about 1300 people that day. The enormity of it all made me both laugh and cry.

At around nine on Saturday morning, Kenny got the call that two food trucks were at Exit 11, ready for him to come meet them and show them the way to the church parking lot where the giveaway (officially called a Mobile Pantry) was to take place. Normally, a Mobile Pantry is allotted one tractor trailer of food, but Second Harvest had gone beyond the call of duty to ensure we had an abundance that day. My husband—who looks like the type of guy who might pinch someone’s head off their shoulders under the right circumstances but who’s actually a big softie—confessed that he couldn’t stop crying when he looked into his rearview mirror and saw those two tractor trailers following him. Meanwhile, the rest of the core team and I were at the church, along with a shockingly large group of ready and willing volunteers. The majority were from the host church, but more than a few were from elsewhere. I’d love to know just how many organizations and denominations were represented that day.



Watching the trucks pull into the lot was surreal. But there was little time for reverie; within minutes, the day had begun in earnest. Pallet upon pallet of food was rolled off the two trucks and lined up, assembly-line style, under a few tents meant to shade us from the sun. (It was predicted that the heat index would peak at 107 that afternoon.)
Volunteers jumped into gear. Later, Second Harvest would tell us that this was one of the best-organized Pantries they’d seen. As our assembly line was being sorted out, community folks--dozens and dozens of them--were gathering in droves to sign up for food boxes.

I’ve seen people unite in order to complete a task, but this event will always stand out in my memory. As the day progressed, people found their niches. Their gifts quickly surfaced. We barely had to ask for help before volunteers took on specific jobs—and sometimes we didn’t have to ask at all. Example: at one point, I went inside the building, where our guests were waiting to fill out their applications and receive a number. Behind the kitchen counter was a collection of adolescent girls, hurriedly placing cupcakes on dessert plates and pouring drinks. No doubt an adult got them started, perhaps suggesting that refreshments would be a great idea, but now the oldest person behind that counter looked about 13. Periodically, one of the girls announced from the microphone that anyone who was hungry should help him- or herself to granola, cupcakes, and juice. I stepped behind the counter to wash my hands and thank the girls, but they barely noticed me as one of them asked the others, “Where are the garbage bags? We need a garbage bag!” and the others happily fussed and fretted until the bags had been located.



Meanwhile, outside in the scorching heat, Pastor Charles, who fervently believes that faith is reflected by action in the community, was overjoyed at the scene. And Kenny was in hog heaven—euphoric at the prospect of distributing the mountains of food in front of him. He had mentally charted how things would play out: while volunteers divided up the food at each station (e.g., the canned veggie station), a dozen or so other volunteers would roll shopping carts down the assembly line, collecting a designated amount of food (adding up to a good 70 pounds or so per cart). Then they would each be assigned a guest and would carry the groceries to the guest’s car. For the next several hours, our assembly line volunteers happily performed this task, again and again and again, in the roaring sun.
These wonderful servants just blew me away all day long. They refused to take breaks, claiming “No, I’m fine!” whenever I encouraged them to sit for awhile. One particular woman purchased a dozen or so pizzas with which to feed all the volunteers. A petite, utterly adorable young woman played the part of bouncer, standing all day at the door to the building, directing our guests to their shopping cart volunteers: “Number 178? Right this way… Bob will push your cart to your car, just show him the way. God bless you!” Another volunteer helped hundreds of people fill out their applications, while a couple more sat at the door and personally greeted each guest upon arrival. Several gentlemen in particular acted like pushing shopping carts was the most exciting, delightful thing they’d ever done; I dare say their smiles grew wider as the day progressed and the heat index rose. One young woman who suffered from heat exhaustion two years ago valiantly pushed through her dread of sun exposure rather than miss out on the days’ mission. One of our core team shocked us all, morphing before our eyes into a natural leader; she filled in all the gaps, caught the vision of how things should play out, and understood the logistics as well as Kenny did. She proved so competent that she has since executed a Mobile Pantry with her own team.

I want so much to thank not only the key players of this first Mobile Pantry, but everyone who labored that day—an impossible task, as I didn’t catch all their names. In fact, at the peak of things, when Kenny asked if there were any guests who might be willing to jump in and help while waiting for their turn, we had a handful who readily agreed, and they worked as diligently as everyone else. One man joined the effort on his own, commenting that he and his wife had come to get food, but once he saw what was going on, he knew he was in it for the duration. He turned out to be one of our most cheerful, energetic grocery-cart-pushers.

At the end of the day, 325 families had received food. We were utterly spent, but the job was complete. I believe it’s safe to say that every person who was present that day was changed in some way.

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