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Apr. 6th, 2004
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Apr. 6th, 2004 10:38 pmThe one nice thing about being in the city is, I get a 45-60 minute drive home to kind of decompress.
Well, most of the time its a nice thing. At least I'm far less knee-jerk about my reactions by the time I get home and begin to post something. I don't know if this is a good thing or not. I tend to think it is. But maybe I'm being selfish. Or neurotic.
Nah. I'm not neurotic. Me, neurotic?
But I digress. As usual.
So tonight I played a Lenten service at church. At the city church, not the suburban church.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pheret1 and pinkfluffyjumpr were there, and they draged along cajoled brought with them legendofthehawk and cinnajess, which was really nice because I hadn't seen either of those beautiful women in a pig's age. Er. Something like.
Tuesday night is also the night of the week this church hosts the neighborhood food pantry, serving dinner, company and conversation to those who have nowhere to go for any of those things. I noticed that there were at least a handful of the people who were at the dinner who stayed for the service. One of them, a man with a very baritone voice, sang loudly and beautifully throughout the entire service, even speaking along with the priest as she began to bless the bread and wine for communion. It was a healing service, and almost everyone in the church came forward for annointing, many staying for an extended prayer and blessing.
After the service, the five of us went next door to the cafe for something to eat.pheret1 and I only had a couple bucks each, so we pooled our money and decided to split some ice cream.
On the way in, a man who was sitting right near the register stopped me. I had my violin with me, slung over my shoulder, because I have a general policy of not leaving expensive pieces of wood unattended in vehicles. In the middle of the city. At night.
But he stopped me, calling out to me, "You play the violin? You played tonight?" I was a little confused at first, then he continued "You're a member of the church?" Well, technically I'm not a member, but I figured it was a moot point to explain, so I nodded. He told me how much he enjoyed the music at the service tonight. Then he asked "And you were at the food pantry tonight? I saw you at the food pantry. Didn't you help serve me dinner?" I hadn't actually been at the food pantry, but the music director and I walked through the fellowship hall where it is always held, and then back again briefly to make some copies of music for the service. I guess he saw me then.
He was drinking a cup of coffee with so many creams in it, it was almost white. It didn't take a genius to figure out then that he is probably homeless, or something quite near to it. So I smiled at him, he asked my name and I told him, and he thanked me for playing, again. We continued to the back to join our friends. And although it crossed my mind that maybe he needed something to eat far more than I did, I pushed it away, like the good, red-blooded, middle-class, capitalistic Westerner I am, and sat down.
We enjoyed our time, my sister and I indeed split an ice cream, and we decided to part ways. On the way out, he was still there, still drinking cream-laden coffee. Its a diner, and they have the same bottomless-cup policy as any other diner in the world- as many cups of coffee as you can drink, with as many creams and sugars as you can stand, for $1.49. Or whatever the going price is for a cup of coffee these days.
He peered up at me through the thickest glasses I've seen since_narcissis_, and said "Oh, the violin player again! Will you be there for Sunday services?" I told him indeed, I would be. He said "Oh, I can't make it for Easter, but I'll see you around. I love music!" Not sure what to say, or how to say it, I said great, I'll see you at church! and we left.
It made me feel awful, that I, who is so abundantly fed, should be eating ice cream, when he is drinking cup after cup of diner coffee, possibly wasting time until he has to go somewhere else that's not there. And then I felt awfuler, because I didn't do anything about it. Not that I knew what to do, but I didn't even try.
And it reminded me so acutely of something that happened two years ago, almost exactly. Something on which this story is directly based(Apologies, it is a badly written story- it remains largely unedited since I first slapped it down on paper, but I'm hard pressed to figure out where else to take it. I wish it didn't come off so corny. Its a true story. At least, the last three paragraphs are).
I wonder if its a Lenten thing. God coming to me. To us? This is the form that God tells us we will see, but we never really seem to believe will happen- the hungry and the sick, the downtrodden, the lonely, the hurting and the poor.
I tell you one thing- I'm going to be serving dinner at the food pantry every Tuesday night I can, from here on out. I never asked his name. I should have.
See, this is me decompressed. Imagine what you would have gotten if I were still compressed.
Well, most of the time its a nice thing. At least I'm far less knee-jerk about my reactions by the time I get home and begin to post something. I don't know if this is a good thing or not. I tend to think it is. But maybe I'm being selfish. Or neurotic.
Nah. I'm not neurotic. Me, neurotic?
But I digress. As usual.
So tonight I played a Lenten service at church. At the city church, not the suburban church.
pheret1 and pinkfluffyjumpr were there, and they legendofthehawk and cinnajess, which was really nice because I hadn't seen either of those beautiful women in a pig's age. Er. Something like.Tuesday night is also the night of the week this church hosts the neighborhood food pantry, serving dinner, company and conversation to those who have nowhere to go for any of those things. I noticed that there were at least a handful of the people who were at the dinner who stayed for the service. One of them, a man with a very baritone voice, sang loudly and beautifully throughout the entire service, even speaking along with the priest as she began to bless the bread and wine for communion. It was a healing service, and almost everyone in the church came forward for annointing, many staying for an extended prayer and blessing.
After the service, the five of us went next door to the cafe for something to eat.
pheret1 and I only had a couple bucks each, so we pooled our money and decided to split some ice cream.On the way in, a man who was sitting right near the register stopped me. I had my violin with me, slung over my shoulder, because I have a general policy of not leaving expensive pieces of wood unattended in vehicles. In the middle of the city. At night.
But he stopped me, calling out to me, "You play the violin? You played tonight?" I was a little confused at first, then he continued "You're a member of the church?" Well, technically I'm not a member, but I figured it was a moot point to explain, so I nodded. He told me how much he enjoyed the music at the service tonight. Then he asked "And you were at the food pantry tonight? I saw you at the food pantry. Didn't you help serve me dinner?" I hadn't actually been at the food pantry, but the music director and I walked through the fellowship hall where it is always held, and then back again briefly to make some copies of music for the service. I guess he saw me then.
He was drinking a cup of coffee with so many creams in it, it was almost white. It didn't take a genius to figure out then that he is probably homeless, or something quite near to it. So I smiled at him, he asked my name and I told him, and he thanked me for playing, again. We continued to the back to join our friends. And although it crossed my mind that maybe he needed something to eat far more than I did, I pushed it away, like the good, red-blooded, middle-class, capitalistic Westerner I am, and sat down.
We enjoyed our time, my sister and I indeed split an ice cream, and we decided to part ways. On the way out, he was still there, still drinking cream-laden coffee. Its a diner, and they have the same bottomless-cup policy as any other diner in the world- as many cups of coffee as you can drink, with as many creams and sugars as you can stand, for $1.49. Or whatever the going price is for a cup of coffee these days.
He peered up at me through the thickest glasses I've seen since
_narcissis_, and said "Oh, the violin player again! Will you be there for Sunday services?" I told him indeed, I would be. He said "Oh, I can't make it for Easter, but I'll see you around. I love music!" Not sure what to say, or how to say it, I said great, I'll see you at church! and we left.It made me feel awful, that I, who is so abundantly fed, should be eating ice cream, when he is drinking cup after cup of diner coffee, possibly wasting time until he has to go somewhere else that's not there. And then I felt awfuler, because I didn't do anything about it. Not that I knew what to do, but I didn't even try.
And it reminded me so acutely of something that happened two years ago, almost exactly. Something on which this story is directly based(Apologies, it is a badly written story- it remains largely unedited since I first slapped it down on paper, but I'm hard pressed to figure out where else to take it. I wish it didn't come off so corny. Its a true story. At least, the last three paragraphs are).
I wonder if its a Lenten thing. God coming to me. To us? This is the form that God tells us we will see, but we never really seem to believe will happen- the hungry and the sick, the downtrodden, the lonely, the hurting and the poor.
I tell you one thing- I'm going to be serving dinner at the food pantry every Tuesday night I can, from here on out. I never asked his name. I should have.
See, this is me decompressed. Imagine what you would have gotten if I were still compressed.
