A little over a year ago I began volunteering at the local Catholic mensa which is essentially a soup kitchen for the poor and homeless only instead of soup, they serve a two-course Italian feast of donated-because-they-are-nearly-expired-but-still-delicious-food. I began volunteering, having been convicted of not walking the talk, and I have learned. So. Much.
rest of his outfit. Mary’s mood varies, but he often seems impatient, like he has somewhere else to be. For a little over a year, I see Mary every Tuesday. He shows up and sits quietly in the front office and waits.
And now Tuesdays come and go, almost the same: a sea of faces coming in from the cold for a warm meal; names in a dozen languages, many I can’t even pronounce. Mary’s void simply and yet loudly takes the shape of an empty chair and it reminds me to accept people as they are, to look them in the eyes and see their worth and their need and love them like Jesus did. Only He can give them life and yet we are the vessels he works through. Thanks Mary for helping me see things a little more clearly.