Abundance and Need

“Is that your Grandson?” he asked.  “No,” I replied, proudly, “my Son.  I have followed my own path in this life.”  “Are you retired?” he continued.  “No.  My full time job is parenting.  I do carpentry to pay the bills.”  

My son and I volunteered this week at the South Portland Food Cupboard.  We pulled two shifts: one in “Food Distribution” (handing out food) and one in “Food Rescue” (driving the van to pick up out-of-date items).  The Food Cupboard operates seven days per week, serving 800 families per week, which equals about 3,200 or 4,000 people, every week. 

In the world’s richest country, the most consumptive society ever on the planet, food insecurity is a very real problem.  According to the USDA, 12.8 percent of U.S. households – one in eight households – are food insecure at least some time during the year.  That means: 44 million people, 13 million children, 100% of counties in America experience food insecurity.

Peter, the Warehouse Manager, told me, “There is no shortage of food.  It is a problem of logistics.”  Such, then, is the mission of the Food Cupboard, with its two vans, to scour our County to gather, sort, then distribute the food.  The abundance is mind boggling.  The need is humbling.  

In another time and place, say, along the Sea of Galilee, this was the loaves and fishes, 5,000 fed – lepers, prostitutes, the unwashed – the “deplorables” some would say, but on that day they were healed and then fed.  

Here in South Portland, on the second Tuesday of July, many supplicants were old and infirm but others were young and hip, fashionably dressed, manicured nails, dyed hair.  The only question asked is “What do you want?”  Proof of income is not required.  

My son has an aptitude and logic for logistics and he found the work – the sorting and packing, the order of sequence – compelling.  The apple does not fall far from the tree.  During the 1990s, while I lived at home with my Mother, we volunteered weekly with other women of her parish. We would drive north, then cook and prepare food to serve the many food insecure in Waukegan, Illinois.  My son and I here can ride our bike to the South Portland Food Cupboard.  

Adamantly opposed to any summer camp, he found the volunteer work engrossing, and we will continue to sign up and volunteer.  Among a sea of retirees, at age 11 he substantially lowered the median age of the volunteers.  My work-for-hire may take a back seat to my role now riding shotgun, as he learns the path of compassion, with food as the means to the end of helping his brethren.  

Wonders never cease.