Twittering Dinner
May 7, 2008 Walky Talky can be seen walking all over the city. She has a day long conversation with herself and, sometimes, with passing cars. She waits outside - for two hours each day - before the meal program opens. The Bearded Lady makes pleasant small talk when she comes in. The Young Couple Who Look Like Bikers have a newborn. Young Biker Dad sits in the chair at the top of the stairs and feeds the baby. I don't need to know his life story to know he's never been happier, ever - it's written all over him: he's like a person in one of those paintings by the Dutch Masters, perpetually bathed in light. Volunteer lady is warming up with the karaoke machine - she'll sings a couple of lovely hymns before dinner. It will seem like everyone is talking and chattering away while she sings but, if you look carefully you'll see people throughout the room, listening intently to her every word, some of them pretending not to. Another volunteer lady is getting the birthday candles out for the cupcakes she brings - it's Wednesday night and we say 'Happy Birthday' to anyone celebrating. More than once we've celebrated an AA birthday, we might do so again tonight. The Euchre Posse is in the middle of their second game. Every so often one of them will misplay a hand and the entire table will erupt in howls and laughter. The smokers are outside the front door, talking quietly; the teenagers are sitting on the steps across the street. Impossible - the shelter cat - wanders into my office and meows for treats. Someone has hidden a bag of cat-candy in my desk drawer and she knows it's there, so of course I'm obligated to give her some, though I don't know why I bother with that cat. Our dishwasher hasn't shown up and the cook struggles to catch up on the pots and pans before dinner begins.
We need more sugar for the coffee station, the timer just went off on the oven, somebody wants to know if I can help them out with groceries, kitchen garbages need to be changed again, the kitchen's a mess and I'm waiting for the Teenage Girl Who Lives in the Tent to come back in so I can give her the granola bars and juice boxes I've been saving for her, but it's raining, and she probably won't make the trek downtown tonight. I'm trying to figure out what, if anything to say in the Jesus Talk before dinner, and realize that I may just skip it altogether. God is in this wonderful mess somewhere, I suppose - but, frankly, sometimes it's hard to see where.
View Printer Friendly Version
Email Article to Friend
Reader Comments (9)
I can smell the food cooking and I can hear the hubub. It makes me smile. It reminds me of better days!
love
I love that God does what He does... where and how He does it...
I don't get it all the time... but it's lovely.
LOVE LIKE HIM,
G.B.U.
Michael <>< <>< <><