Stories

"I was expecting you to be talking to people! Are you sure you're enjoying yourself?" Julie asked me.

I shrugged. I hadn't seen anyone else talking to people, so I wasn't sure I should be. Besides, I didn't feel up to it. I was volunteering at PADS tonight, a community movement to support the homeless in DuPage County. My grandma had told me they were short on volunteers to serve dinner and asked if I would be willing to help. Of course I was willing. I haven't been involved in need-based ministry for a while.

When I got there, I didn't know any of the volunteers. I kind of kept to myself, but began helping them set up mattress and make the beds for the night. Sixty mats upstairs for the men. Ten downstairs for the women and ten for the family room. As I was bending over and folding the sheets over and over again, I was struck by the momentary nature of my presence at PADS that night. I would only be helping out this one night, the whole summer. I would only set up these beds, this one night, this whole year. And yet, those coming tonight, would depend on PADS many, many, many nights throughout the summer. It was an eerie thought and, for some reason, sent odd chills down my spine in the 80 degree room.

After setting beds up, I headed to the kitchen where I found Julie, an old family friend. She knew me when I was a toddler, I believe. We chatted and caught up on life while we cut bread and put cookies on plates, waiting for the people to arrive.

When they started to arrive, I was unsure of how to interact with them. I knew they were homeless-- that's why they were here. But no one else was going up and talking to them. So instead, I smiled politely and helped wherever I could. But to be honest, I felt very useless. I was running back and forth filling up the dessert tray, wishing I was sitting at a table, striking up a conversation with one of the people there.

So Julie's question was unnerving. Yes, I was expecting that I'd be talking to people too. She said it was perfectly fine for me to go and talk to them... even if no one else was. So I took in a deep breath, grabbed a pitcher of water and started walking around the tables, offering refills. This way, I began making small talk with people. Near the end of the meal, I started talking with a man. We'll call him Rob.

Rob was in his mid-fifties and was very friendly. We started up a conversation very easily and I asked if I could join him at his table. He very hospitably said yes and kept a warm conversation going. I found out he had a daughter about my age and was able to hear much about his life. My heart warmed being able to listen to him and get to know more of his story.

Ah, stories. Aren't we all just stories strung together?
Lucas teases me because I love telling stories. I love hearing stories. I love reading stories. I love them. I find that they capture people so well... their hearts, their dreams, their interests, their fears... their lives. I love stories.

And so, we sat at the table, covered in a plastic tablecloth, telling stories.

The night came to a close and I had to leave.

"Dear young lady," he cried, "you have truly made my night."

I smiled and waved back.
Ah, he had truly made my night.