Cabbage Soup
Rendered speechless, I offer silently a basket of nachos with over-cooked cheese shavings, and cabbage soup scraped together from the four corners of my freezer. I hear the echoes of gratitude bouncing through the caverns in my brain, and I am halted by the words: “the likes of us.” A woman who talks to people I can’t see has just thanked the two volunteers (of which I am one) for providing this crummy little meal (my words).
She said, “Thank you volunteers, (after eating a small bowl of that cabbage soup) for coming out and doing this for us (it was 10:15 p.m.). It’s not easy do this for the likes of us….” The likes of us. I almost laughed. In fact I did inside… the likes of us.
~ Cabbage Soup ~
Every jot and tittle
fragments gathered
nourishing
nourishing
one man’s trash
another’s treasure… warm in the belly, and
can it be that
one drop is wasted?
one tear unnoticed?
but, watering tear composting
compiling all
of creation
through scraps and scrapings and sufferings
gathered to feast
and feasted upon.
These images came to me as a result of stockpiling leftovers and remnants of food in my freezer, with the intent of bringing a fresh pot of soup to the shelter one evening, accompanying my friend. I wasn’t sure at the time how the ministry provided food, but as it turned out, my cabbage soup was the only warm nourishment for that night. Surprise!
– by Kae Eaton
