By Cindy Estee
The food varies — usually beans, rice, canned goods and some fresh produce. Sometimes there is chicken. Sometimes milk. Volunteers set up the food on long white tables and wait for the people to come. For the most part, they are immigrants. They walk to the food tables from their residences.
I stand behind a box filled with packages of beans. “Beans?” I ask each person. “Would you like some beans?” Some nod yes, and others say no. And they move to the next item. There is little time for interaction.
It is blazing hot. I look down at the produce and hope the lettuce doesn’t wilt. The line keeps moving. I run out of beans and open up another container and replenish the box. A little girl with enormous black eyes smiles at me. I smile back. It is not much, but it is something. Her mother nods and takes some beans.
It seems so transient, so little. How do we show that we understand, that we are all part of the same fabric? I bite back my frustration and think I should pray, but I don’t. I get busy with the beans.
I think about all of the societal wrongs and failures that give rise to this kind of need. The big picture wounds that need to be addressed. And I say, “Beans?” to the next in line. Is it enough? Of course not. But I hear the Risen One telling Simon Peter, “Feed my sheep,” and trust him to use those simple beans for his purpose that day.
• A group from Wilshire serves the fourth Friday morning each month at the Vickery Meadow Youth Development Foundation’s Mobile Food Pantry. If you can help, contact Charlie Estee at cesteedallas@gmail.com.