Mexico

Our family spent last week volunteering again at a large orphanage in Mexico.  It was an especially humbling experience for me, as I had the opportunity to serve in the Soup Kitchen one day.   All the leftovers from the cafeteria that are not eaten by the orphans and staff are sent there.  

The kitchen is modern and very clean.  Two tables and about 20 chairs sit in the middle of the room.  About 30 more chairs line the perimeter. There was a slight smell of cinnamon hanging in the air when I walked in.

My job was to scoop a few cups of leftovers into small plastic bags.  When I was done, there were a few bags containing refried beans, some had cooked rice, two had mashed potatoes and most held veggie rice soup.  Local people come each day and line up for hours before the doors open, waiting for a chance to get what other people didn’t eat.

The day I worked there, the only thing they were guaranteed was a glass of warm milk with rice and a little cinnamon and sugar.  Sometimes they do get soup, but not on that day.  We had 58 glasses ready when the doors opened, but there were a total of 65 people crowding into that room, hoping for something to fill their empty stomachs.  When we realized we were short, we hurried to heat up more powdered milk and quickly mixed in some coco, so no one would be left out.  It was better than nothing, but I couldn’t help but cry.  Many people had children with them.

When everyone had returned their empty cups to the kitchen, the bags of food were placed on the counter.  Each adult was allowed to take one bag.  When the bags ran out, but the line remained, the freezer was opened to reveal just enough bags of frozen leftovers to supply those who stood in line.  Some days they aren’t so lucky, and many go away with empty hands.  I continued to cry as I washed up all their cups.

Elizabeth, a friend of mine, worked at that orphanage for nearly 20 years.  She always wrinkled up her nose at the thought of the Soup Kitchen, where dirty people come to eat scraps from her table, but she too has been humbled by it’s existence.  She now lives in America and works as a medical translator for the Spanish speaking population. 

Waiting for the doctor to arrive one day, Elizabeth began to chit-chat with a woman who needed medical help.  She asked the woman where she was from and was surprised to learn she had lived near the orphanage.  The woman went on to say she was raised by her grandmother and they walked miles daily to get food from the very place I had volunteered.  Elizabeth teared up as the woman described the wonderful feelings she had as a child when she breathed in the delicious smells coming from that kitchen. 

Perspective is everything.