I had dinner with some homeless people tonight.
Our church participates in a program called “nomadic shelter,” which provides a meal, roof overhead and warmth during the winter.
Homeless people, in our case working with the local gospel mission, are bused to our church, bringing a minimal amount of their possessions.
The gospel mission provides sleeping pads and bedding, as well as supervision.
Our task was to provide a meal, a skit, and conversation for the “overflow” from the mission house.
We did it last year and will host up to 40 guests two more times this year.
Tonight we had 35.
My role
Yesterday, I baked cookies and dropped them off at church.
I was asked to be a greeter and to dine with the guests.
When I arrived, folks had been at church about ten minutes.
Some were examining our book cart.
Others were chatting with greeters and some already had sat down at the tables.
After making a few book suggestions from the cart, I went into our multi-purpose room and sat at a table with three women.
They were very interesting and I enjoyed the conversation.
What to talk about?
I’m an extrovert and rarely am at a loss for words, but I was nervous.
I did not want to ask anything that would be insulting or demeaning.
As I drove to church, I prayed, “Lord, please let me honor our guests, listen to them and say only what they need me to say.”
I thought about all the things I could not ask them, like,
“What do you do?”
“How was your day?”
“Seen any good movies lately?”
“Where do you live?”
I sighed. What would I say to a homeless person?
As it happened, not much.
Listening
I approached a woman sitting by herself. “May I sit with you?” I asked. “I’ll feel more comfortable sitting with women.”
She invited me to join her. I held out my hand and introduced myself.
She did the same.
“Where did you grow up?” I asked. “No one seems to be a native of this town, including me.”
“San Francisco,” and then she ran through a list of the churches she had attended and where her children were baptized.
Several other women joined us, and a child.
I scarcely needed to say anything more–they all told stories.
Insight
All the women were educated and they all had medical backgrounds.
While grateful for the food we served (chili, cornbread, salad, cheese, fresh carrots, fresh fruit, dessert and ice water), they had interesting observations to make about what they particularly liked.
I wrote on my place mat–I had to borrow a pen–and “did research,” for our next nomadic shelter host evening.
One of the women had studied nutrition and thought the mental problems homeless people often exhibit could possibly be related to the food they were served.
I asked what we should consider serving next time.
“Sardines, salmon, cooked greens (particularly nutritious ones like kale), fresh baked goods and eggs.”
They had eaten a pumpkin/squash soup at one shelter they all liked, and a pureed carrot soup with ginger at another.
“On cold winter nights, there’s nothing like a hearty soup,” a former nurse said, noting she’d enjoyed a potato soup with cheddar cheese and bacon.
They all agreed beef stew would be lovely, as well.
Later, the kitchen supervisor told me salad was of greatest interest, “if we’d had 40 people to dinner, we would have run out.”
Needs for a homeless dinner
All three women I spoke with wanted a place to live–which is a challenge in our community–and they were actively hunting.
When I asked about other needs, they suggested water and coffee shop gift cards.
“A homeless person living outside should drink a dozen glasses of water a day,” the nutritionist said. “Being outside all day long, it’s easy to get dehydrated.”
They also commented that finding a restroom is a challenge when living on the streets.
One of the spots they often visit has two port-a-potties for their used, “But they lock them at 10 o’clock at night,” the woman said.
Most places aren’t open early in the morning for them to use facilities, but a few local coffee shops allow homeless people to enter early and get warm.
“If I was running a homeless drive, I’d get gift cards for those shops,” the nutritionist said.
They appreciated a restroom with a door that locked, “so we can at least brush our teeth in peace.”
Some places, apparently, frown on them using their restrooms to brush their teeth.
Just listen to the homeless
I gave no advice, offered no suggestions, hardly spoke of myself at all.
I found a common denominator in my Italian heritage, my Hungarian relatives, and children.
It was enough.
The homeless guests in our church tonight laid out their sleeping pads, arranged their bedding and went to bed early.
It’s a long day living on the street and not knowing what tomorrow will bring.
I finished off the evening in the kitchen, drying dishes and then headed home.
I’m glad I had dinner with three homeless women tonight.
Tweetables
Dinner with homeless women–what to say. Click to Tweet
All I had to do was listen–dinner with the homeless. Click to Tweet
What to feed homeless folks? Just ask them. Click to Tweet
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