Serving others dinner

Walking up to the doors, it smelled like the dentist's office. You know: latex gloves, toothpaste, a trace of bubblegum. This was odd, not only because it was not the dentist office, but because it was right outside the Reno Gospel Mission where the homeless and unfortunate were congregating.


The Reno Gospel Mission was smaller than I expected it to be. In fact, if I hadn't been looking, I would have never noticed it. It sat inconspicuously at the edge of some inconspicuous buildings off Record St. The front room was rather small, containing only a few benches on the right, a chair or two on the left. A man behind a desk ushered us through a hall to a cafeteria like space. This cafeteria was much smaller than I expected as well, fitting maybe 200 people if tables were rearranged.


My nostrils were greeted with the delightful aroma of spices, tomatoes, and beans. Enchiladas. My stomach growled, but I silently reminded him that I was a servant here, not the other way around.


The group we were planning to meet here motioned for us to join them.


"It moves kind of fast," Debbie explained. Some employees would set up the tables shortly and our job was to wipe them down and set them with napkins and eating utensils. Ladies would be served first, then the men.


As the women filed in and took their seats, the other servers and I lined up in a school cafeteria fashion in front of the kitchen. We then took the plates to the hungry while two guys from our group delivered the drinks, starting with those farthest from the kitchen and working our way to the front. We followed the same process with the men.


Traveling around the room, I got a good look at the various sorts of homeless people. Many-men and women- were toothless, had unkempt hair, and wore jackets that had gone out of style before the 90's. Some limped, some hunched.  Some carried themselves in an odd way that might make you question their mental state. They fit my idea of a homeless person precisely.


 Others were seemingly, normal. They gave credence to the phrase, "Don't judge a book my it's cover."


It became difficult for me while serving to refrain from judging unfairly. I saw many overweight people. There were a few people who had cell phones. Why were these people in need of handouts when they seemed to be doing so well? I had to fight the indignation rising up in my chest. After all, what did I know about these people? What right did I have to criticize them when I knew nothing of their background or their history? And regardless of why they were at the Gospel Mission, whether they truly needed to be there or not, I myself am hardly perfect. If I was, maybe I would have some license to question their motives, but I have never been, nor will I ever be blameless enough to make such a judgement.