That sound stopped me dead. It snatched all my thoughts and focused them in one single direction. I had been in a rush, with only a few minutes before I had to be back to the local middle school. Seems helping them is a big part of me these days. I pulled into the grocery store parking lot and headed for the slot closest to the door. The air was bitter cold outside. I was bitter cold inside. The wind, with an inexplicable attitude, had been slamming trees, assaulting cars and running through every open door.
Distracted by my own desire for warmth, I pulled the handle on the door, and let the cold, and the unexpected sound inside. Its entrance rearranged my desires. I forgot about getting the chicken breasts I had come to buy. I was instead a unwitting participant in a sudden splash of beauty. The sound consumed me. It was tender, sweet and soulful, like summer poppies swaying in the breeze. It was magnificent too, like the ever flowing water cascading down Burney Falls. It melted me, soothed me and made me want to cry. Eyes filled with tears, I set out toward the store. I thought of just grabbing my chicken and running back to my car, but I could not. I had to find it.
I assumed the store was piping music into the parking lot. It is, after all, the holiday season. Stores do all kinds of nice things this time of year. As I neared the door I assumed I would hear more clearly, but the music grew less. I was perplexed until the corner of my eye caught movement. There! I stopped, again, dead in my tracks.
The beauty emanated from the end cap of a parking line. The source, a small amplifier, sat next to a woman with a sign and a Latino man playing a violin. He rocked and swayed with the music he was making, segueing between Christmas carols and old favorites. He was serious, but only because his eyes were closed. I felt myself tear up again. The music spoke to the tender part of me that does not get sidetracked by chicken breasts. I forgot the whipping wind. I forgot the cold. For those moments the sound was all there was.
Compelled to get closer, I set out. It didn’t take long to reach them. When I did the woman picked up the sign and stood there holding it as I (and other people equally captivated) approached them. It was not a sign asking for money. Rather, it had a statement that made me suck in my breath and cover my mouth.
“We have a three year old daughter to feed.”
No. No, no, no. The glorious melody that blessed me and tugged me out of my rushing around did not fit with a hungry child. NO.
I was suddenly a bit sick to my stomach. These people were not dirty. They showed no evidence of drug usage. They were smiling, it appeared to me, hopeful. I assume they were migrant, agricultural workers. We have many of those in this area. Most are beautiful, kind, considerate people. However, December is a hard month for many. My calling, always overworked during the holiday season, makes me understand how hard it can be.
I could not go back to the store, grab my chicken breasts and go on with my day.
If you could, I challenge you to please come and get the services we offer at The Vinedresser’s House.
A hungry child is unacceptable.
I opened my wallet and gave them all the cash I could find. As I handed it to the woman I told her I was sorry I did not have more, and thought to get more when I bought my stuff. I would be late getting back to my middle school. However, I repeat—
A hungry child is unacceptable.
I cannot leave anyone hungry. I was raised to be kind, to care for those who were in need. I believe everyone, no matter who they are or what they have done, needs to eat. I thought about that as I walked away. It was humbling. I came to the store to buy chicken, not for me but for my homemade dog food. Ya. Yet, I had been thinking how unfair life can be, and how hard finances are. I don’t have extra. I barely have enough. Blah Blah Blah. So broke I can feed my dogs chicken breast meals. That fact struck me hard, as I walked through the store. I am sure I looked silly with my lips pursed to absorb the emotion that wanted to flood my eyes and run down my cheeks.
I am just fine. I may not have extra, but I have a warm home. I have a full fridge. I have a car to drive and three sources of income. I was embarrassed by myself. I was also very concerned.
A hungry child is unacceptable.
If you are thinking, well they were probably illegals who don’t have a right to be here. Ok. Your right to think such things is assured by the American Constitution. But does than mean you believe a hungry three year old is acceptable?
It better not.
When I had given them all I could and returned to my car, I sat there long enough to let some of those tears go. Hungry children in America? No. I cannot stand the thought of it.
I keep looking for them each time I go by that store. I kick myself for not asking more questions and doing more to help. I should have. If I find them again I will indeed do more. I pray for them often. I don’t know their names, but God does. He sees the hungry. He also sees the parent who did not beg but offered a rare beauty to the world and simply made known what he was going through. What a respectable, brave man.
I encourage you, this year at Christmas, and all through the rest of the year, care for those hungry little ones. Give. There are all kinds of ways to do so. Local food banks and places that feed families. Find a family in need and shop for them. Leave the bags on the porch and ring the bell. Go to the Mission and help serve. Go to your local school and ask what they need. Go to a nursing home with some cookies and an hour to listen to the elderly tell stories. Buy something special for a family and find someone else to deliver it. You may not be able to solve the major problems of the world. But you can—
DO SOMETHING.
We at The Vinedresser’s House believe faith is not faith unless we are acting upon it. We are commanded to feed the hungry. We are told to help the poor and accept and provide for the foreigner. Our faith is proven by it.
So go out an prove your faith. Let us know if we can help.
Why? Because God himself tells us,
No hungry child is acceptable.
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