Hunger Is Not a Disease

Thank You for the Small Pains I Get in the Pantry

Lord, you know I do need them, of course.

For each sore shoulder pain or back spasm that goes away after a while:  THANK YOU!

The small pains remind me of all the pantry work that needs to be done every day. When the small pains come around, they remind me to pray for more volunteers.

So, thanks for the sneezing fits and scratchy throats I get every delivery day.

The last time I had a sharp pain on delivery day, I caught myself praying in surprise.  And, guess what!  The entire Roberts family showed up to help.  It was just a miracle – that’s all.

And, one afternoon, I had a shoulder pain during the pantry shift and a volunteer stepped out of the line and helped us all that day.  And, he kept returning every week for several months.

For me, these small pains are reminders that I should ask for help and be ready for it to show up!

What these pains mean is that I should also hold out hope for the coming miracles.

After all, miracles happened and I couldn’t hide from them.  I was in denial for the longest time but, eventually, I had to face facts.  When I finally owned up to their reality, I saw they were special miracles for a food pantry.

Stigmata, relics, icons, and visions weren’t appropriate for the pantry.

Nobody controlled how or when they happened, only whether or not they were seen for what they were.  I wasn’t focused on the miracles because I was busy paying attention to lifting boxes, stocking shelves, filling out forms, driving to the dump with the trash.

And, so, Lord, I promise to try to ask for help when the pantry needs it.

Meanwhile…thank you…and…Amen

THANKS FOR READING THIS POST!  It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?

I have a whole volume’s worth of meditations, devotions, short stories filled with gratitude and thanksgiving.

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Healing 1: Serving the Hungry with an Understanding Heart

“You, God, are my God, earnestly I seek you; I thirst for you, my whole being longs for you, in a dry and parched land where there is no water.” – Psalm 63:1

“That person lives in Shandaken.  He shouldn’t even be here.”

 

The pantry served shoppers, volunteers, hungry people.  Volunteers fed everyone in the line.  No exceptions.

Distributing groceries brought forgiveness and healing.  Healing was an after thought of forgiveness.

For me, healing required some commitment and thought.  Whether or not this was true, questions always arose:

“Am I ready to be healthy?”

“Can I get well if it’s scary?”

“Can I leave the old me aside if it’s necessary for healing?”

“Why am I going through this?”

“What is the meaning of it all?”

These questions could be painful.  Healing can be hard on everyone.

The pantry line had massage therapists, Reiki practitioners, medical intuitives, and other healers.

As a healer, I know healing happens on several levels in our lives:  physical, mental, spiritual, emotional, mythical.  Both healing and getting well were special challenges because many of the people in the hallway, the pantry room, and out in the parking lot didn’t have health care.

While he had his office, Woodstock had Dr. Longmore.  After his office closed, things were tough for many.  As health care became scarce, everyone became personally involved with the differences between healing and getting well.  For some, this was part of the spiritual journey.

Hunger often went beyond a plate of beans or a jar of peanut butter.  That’s why food is essential to healing.  That’s where homemade soup comes in.

Sharing food in the pantry helped people heal.  Fresh vegetables, eggs, and Bread Alone bread offered a healing experience with abundance.  As we fed the shoppers, we helped ourselves and each other.

In some cases, the shoppers became the volunteers or the volunteers joined the shoppers.  Shoppers came to get food and found they could volunteer.  Volunteering changed them.  As a person distributed groceries, the volunteer made contact with another person and was able to smile.

Pantry experiences coaxed us out of our own problems.  Offering a sense of community gives back so much more.

Do you want to be healed?  Healing and feeding are connected.

Sooner or later, we all get sick.  Finally, we die.

No one escapes.  This truth is harder on hungry people who have no $$$ for health care.

Hungry people are often blamed for their inability to deal with the situation.  It’s as if it’s their fault for being down and out in Woodstock.  If they lived right, they would be healthier, make more $$$ in their jobs.

If critics stopped and thought about how insufficient nutritious food, improper housing, and inadequate or nonexistent healthcare impacts a person, they might feel differently.

What did it matter that there were no jobs in the area and none of those that came open paid over $8.00 an hour?

Because they were down and out, they must be guilty of something.

They were negative thinkers, lacking faith, and basically lazy.  Something.

They were gay, trans, promiscuous, alcoholics.  Something.

They were freeloaders, irresponsible, flaky.  Something.

Healing and getting well are two different things, acting in different ways.  But, whether a person heals, gets well, or both, change happens.

“Do I want to heal?”

“Do I want to be well?”

“What if I come out of this experienced a different person?”

“What if it takes a long time?”

In the midst of this, the pantry offered some normalcy to the shattered lives of hungry people when they took pantry food home to wherever and whatever that was, fixed a meal, and served it to those in the household.

It was supper from the pantry.

Health issues pointed to the spiritual challenges which popped up on the path to the pantry.  Healing was on the agenda.  We all wanted to get well.

People getting well overcome symptoms.  Getting well means doctor’s visits, therapy, pills, creams.  These things were simply not an option for pantry shoppers because there was no money.

Symbolic healing occurred in the hallway on pantry days as shoppers and volunteers discussed their diabetes, PTSD, cancer, allergies.

Working and shopping in the pantry was therapy to volunteers and shoppers.  These hallway conversations were cheaper than the physical and mental health services they had no money for anyway.

These conversations were essential because talking about a health issue promotes healing.  Shared symptoms gave us all support, strength, validity.

Everyone walking through the door to the pantry, whether a shopper or volunteer, was asked to leave the past behind.  This experience was different for everyone.  But, think about it, how can we move forward into our new lives if we never give anything up.

For some, giving up the past means letting go of things lost:  the job, the home, maybe the family, self-esteem, the car, good health, money, insurance, the pet, anger, or drugs.

As the past disappears, the remaining spiritual baggage weighs less and less.  Prejudices become fewer.  Fears diminish.  We heal!

Some things surrendered were physical, some mental, and some emotional.  But, one thing is certain, whatever the category, the experiences all had a spiritual aspect.

Giving and receiving food brought everyone a little peace.

Everyone coming to the pantry heals somehow.  The pantry community supports and approves hungry individuals as they climb back on the road to wellness and something offering normalcy.

Nobody just wakes up one day and says “I think I’ll go down to the local food pantry and volunteer.”  People spending time in pantries all travel down the path.  Healing  has signposts along the way.

Some needed physical healing.  Volunteers occasionally came to the pantry so ill that they were barely able to make it into the building.  When this happened, I stationed them at the Items of Dignity table distributing toilet paper, shampoo, razors.  They offered one roll of toilet paper and one other item to each shopper.

                                 Each week, Deanna slowly walked the two blocks to the pantry and then worked in the hallway a couple of hours while she gathered enough energy to return home.

“Don’t forget your roll of toilet paper, Judith.  We’ve got some hand cream today.  Can you use that or would you prefer tooth paste?”

When Deanna finally couldn’t work in the hallway anymore, Rachel gracefully sat at the Items of Dignity table helping shoppers choose their two items.  Rachel lived in nearby Mt. Tremper.  Her living situation seemed somewhat precarious because every few months she looked for a new place to live.  She lived in her car a couple of times.

Thank you for reading this blog post.  This is the first food pantry article on healing.

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If you are interested in healing, please check out my other blog:  www.reflexologyforthespirit.com.

Thanks again.

Thurman Greco

Woodstock, NY

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My Search – The Food Pantry Needs a Refrigerator – “The Ketchup Sandwich Chronicles”

The pantry had a refrigerator and I needed a place to put it. But, to begin at the beginning, the food pantry had hungry people wanting and needing the hundreds of dozens of eggs we got from the food bank and Aldi’s.

Pantry volunteers needed a place to store the eggs before we distributed them. Where, oh where, could I put the refrigerator?

Early on pantry day, when I packed eggs in my car, nothing much else fit. Reusable shopping bags filled with eggs were in the rear hatch, on the seats, and on the floor. I felt like I was driving an egg mobile instead of a Prius. The only negative was refrigeration.

Each new food group added to the pantry shelves changed the dynamic, the pace of shopping in the room. Eggs were a huge addition. They were cheap. They didn’t take up much space but packed a nutritional punch. They were easy to cook. They were in big demand every time they were available in the pantry.

At the Food Bank of Northeastern New York in Latham I bought thirteen cases of loose eggs at a time whenever I could get them. When food bank stock was depleted, I bought over a hundred dozen eggs at a time at Aldi, a food store located at 767 East Chester Street in Kingston, across the road from Prestige Toyota. Aldi was the only local store willing to sell eggs to the pantry.

I tried to buy eggs at local farms and at Adams Fairacre, ShopRite, and Hannaford’s in Kingston. Nobody would sell eggs to the pantry because over a hundred dozen eggs were just too many and the pantry need wasn’t steady enough.

Aldi didn’t mind though. The store manager kept hundreds of dozens of eggs behind the glass door of a refrigerator case on the back wall of the store. All I had to do was open the door, wheel out the egg trolley, and load all the eggs I needed in large, reusable shopping bags which I brought with me. It took four shopping carts to get the loaded eggs to the checkout clerk.

I spent several months quietly searching for the refrigerator space I needed. I had a refrigerator and I just needed a place to put it. Then I got serious. I began with the church.

“Pastor, the pantry needs a refrigerator for eggs.”

“The pantry room is too small and the building committee won’t allow it.”

Next, I called around Woodstock from a list I’d made of people who might be willing to help me out. After the pastor, the Town Supervisor was top of the list. I was on his election committee when he successfully ran for office.

“Hi. I’m looking for refrigerator space for the pantry. Can I put one in the Community Center kitchen? I’ll donate it to the town. I just want to use it one day each week for eggs.”

“No.”

“Thanks.” Well, I thought, it’s a good thing I made a list!

I knew Woodstock Democratic Committee members. One was even on the Woodstock Town Board.

“I’m looking for refrigerator space for the pantry. I’ve got the refrigerator, I just want to use it one day a week for eggs. Do you know someplace in town where we can put one?”

“I’ll ask around and see what I can find.”

“How about Town Hall? There’s a large empty room there.”

“That won’t work. We’re going to renovate that building.”

My list is getting me nowhere fast, I thought.

At the end of the church parking lot stood a long, dirt floored, unpainted, rattlety trap building, a storage space for the popular Woodstock Village Green Bed and Breakfast. If I could get a corner in that old barn, I could put a refrigerator on a pallet. Dare I hope? I didn’t know the owners personally, but there didn’t seem to be any other options. So, I picked up the phone and called.

“I’m wondering if the pantry can rent a little corner of your barn for a refrigerator. I’m desperate for a place to store eggs. I’ve asked everyone and you are my absolute last hope.”

I might be able to pull this one off, I thought. When the pantry inspectors come, I just won’t mention the barn. I had to rely on food bank inspectors looking the other way and not asking about the food bank eggs.

One of the owners called back. “We can do this and there won’t be any charge.”

“Thanks. You’re going to heaven for this.”

“The refrigerator in the barn worked fine. Volunteers distributed eggs to shoppers on pantry day. Over time, local residents donated refrigerators and freezers.

Shopper census rose until we outgrew our small storage closet in the hallway.

“I need space Pastor. If you can’t spare a room for the pantry, I’ll just have to ask volunteers to bring the next shipment to my home where I’ll put it in my healing space. This is our biggest shipment yet, 3,000 pounds. The food is coming in.”

Each monthly shipment from the food bank up to this point had totaled less than 2,000 pounds. Pastor appealed to his consistory and the building committee. Word on the street was that many meetings followed and the pantry finally got, somehow, permission, maybe, to use the room at the end of the hall.

Food delivery day arrived and volunteers put food in the room. As they brought boxes into the room, I looked around. Nobody was there at the moment. The universe is on my side, I thought.

I hurried upstairs to the church office where I found the secretary. “We’re so happy to be able to store food in the room. Do you think it’ll be okay to bring a refrigerator in? This would mean we can keep eggs in the storeroom.”

Slowly, she smiled. “Sure, bring it in.”

Within minutes after I spoke with her, two men carried a refrigerator to the store room. “Put it against this wall,” I said, pointing to the one place where it would be least obvious.

At the end of the morning, building committee members inspecting the new storeroom saw a room full of food and a refrigerator filled with eggs. They were not happy.

I thought the pastor’s secretary was the number two person in the church so I went with her okay. The expressions on their faces taught me that the only people with any authority in that church were the building committee members.

From that morning on, pantry volunteers filled the stockroom to capacity with the food we got from the food bank. The refrigerator hummed along as we stacked eggs on every shelf in it weekly.

I don’t think I got permission to use the room permanently. It was a squatter’s rights kind of thing. Once I got the food in there, they couldn’t get me out. Before it was all over, the pantry received shipments every month exceeding 12,000 pounds.

The storeroom was a wonderful addition to the pantry. We routinely ordered food for advance needs during lean months and the refrigerator stored eggs.

The storeroom made all the difference.

Same with the barn. The dirt (mud when it rained) floor was permanently covered with flattened cardboard boxes and the refrigerators and freezers were stacked on pallets.

Was I wrong to have been so pushy?

Well, I don’t think so. I did make one mistake, though. I should have moved all the refrigerators and freezers into the storeroom that morning.

There were enough outlets.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for reading this article. Please share it with your favorite social media network.

Thurman Greco

Woodstock, New York

P.S. Please stay tuned for future chapters from my upcoming book “The Ketchup Sandwich Chronicles”.