I have often wondered if I inadvertently married an angel 34 years ago. Cheryl adopts causes that most will avoid. Unpleasant tasks. For instance, 32 years ago she decided we should provide a gift of homemade Christmas cookies to the indigent inhabitants of the ABC home. From then to this day we do this. We parade down the hall passing out baggies of cookies and singing Christmas carols to each resident. We are the only visitors they will have on Christmas eve. Then we also started preparing cookies for the inhabitants of the county jail. We are expected at the jail, the prisoners and deputies appreciate our effort. One year the prisoners even made a Christmas card for us. This week she decided she would drive up to Kansas City, Kansas to serve free food to the homeless at a soup kitchen. She didn’t invite me, so I invited myself. I couldn’t possible let her drive to that area of the city without protection. Now you understand, Cheryl is as far from liberal as one can be. She doesn’t do these things for self-aggrandizement. She will never promote her good deeds. She is an enormously successful and very attractive women who owns a large construction company. She is tough in a tough business, but lately she has been beset by an attempt at a hostile takeover of her business, and has spent a lot of time crying and fighting over this. In the end she remains the sole stockholder, but it has been very upsetting.
It seemed strange to me to go off to a food kitchen for a service project among the poor and wretched people of Kansas City, Kansas, but when the halo starts shining, there is no denying it. We navigated to the facility on 7th Street, and went in. I was guarded in this neighborhood, and felt like I should at least be carrying a small pistol. We drove up in our not so noticeable SUV instead of one of the cars. Inside there were several offices and a large cafeteria filled with the wretched poor, all waiting for 5:00 food service to begin. Several young people from our church were also there busy sorting old clothes and shoes for distribution. We were directed to the kitchen where we were quickly instructed on how to dish out the food.
Dinner consisted of ham, tuna casserole, green beans, pears for desert, and healthy fruit juice to drink. Cheryl took the food, I took desert, and we were warned the diners could not come back for seconds until all were served. At five, the line of about 60 people formed, mostly shabby men and a few shabby women. Straggly beards, mismatched clothing. She talked to each man or woman as they came up. They brightened, smiling with their few remaining teeth. “ You must make a clean plate, eat everything, particularly the green beans.” Soon she had them laughing. The men, and even the women, liked talking to a beautiful woman up close, eye to eye. Something they seldom got to do. Cheryl heaped their paper plates to overflowing, somewhat to the concern of the matron in charge of the kitchen. Cheryl assured the matron there would be enough and some left over. After all, this wasn’t a multitude of people. Only a few. There was, of course, enough, with some left over.
At the desert end of the serving counter, I was able to study the patrons. I had to compare my life to theirs. I have never eaten in a food kitchen, and would not eat in this one. Easter was coming in a few days, this was their Easter dinner. Mine would be completely different. I wondered at the stories behind these now happy homeless. They all thanked Cheryl profusely for the food, smiling and laughing as they headed for their tables.
Toward the end of the line a woman came up that was different from the rest. She was small, 50-ish, with all her teeth (most did not have many) and decent clothing. With a little makeup, she could be quite attractive. She smiled a shy and perhaps embarrassed smile. Like perhaps this was new to her. I watched her disappear among the tables thinking maybe I should follow her and hear her story. But there was still a line to serve and by the time we were done the woman was gone. I wanted to hear her story and write it up for you to read. The opportunity passed. Too late, so you get this story instead.
We had a hours’ drive home and Cheryl did not want to stay and visit for long. But the glow on her face persisted, her troubles driven away for a time. Angels need to do their thing. It is how they live. It is their charge in life. The Lord is clearly on their side. I am so fortunate to share my life with this woman.
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