Serving Lunch

Dear Señora,

At the Catholic Respite Center (CRC), whose goal is Restoring Human Dignity, there is a room with four tables, each with six chairs. It is crowded and a little stuffy, but perfect for a little soup and tortillas.

After traveling and maybe not eating for days, maybe having access to drinkable water, maybe not...little tummies and big ones are not quite ready for heavy foods. To heal the gut and ease into whole foods, the CRC serves broth, eventually adding in chicken and vegetables and noodles. 

A warm corn tortilla flat on your palm can be rolled up from wrist to fingertips into a tight roll, perfect for dipping.

Volunteers had been stirring soup and warming tortillas all morning, in between shower duty shifts and clothes sorting shifts. I was on water duty.

There was a large water cooler towards the corner of the room where a doctor was seeing patients, making his closet into a clinic. Waiting families could sit by the water cooler until the doctor was ready for them. As I prepared cups of water from the cooler, I could offer them a water. Maybe they would get some Advil or an allergy pill from the doctor when it was their turn, and some water could wash it down.

I set the tables with paper towels and spoons, trying to make this makeshift lunch area a little more hospitable. Families came in and out, eating quietly. The whole room could feel their exhaustion. One little boy fell asleep sitting up, back not even touching the chair, and a little drool left the corner of his mouth.

Señora, remember when you would stand and lecture from the front of the room and if you didn't move around a lot, your lower back would ache? One day you missed school to rest your back. I remembered to keep moving: refilling water cups, sweeping up crumbs, asking simple questions, "Mas agua? Sopa? Una cuchara?" 

Three small boys came into the lunch room and sat in the chairs. A volunteer had guided them in and announced they needed sopa. We jumped to serve them; they were tiny in those huge adult chairs. After our persistent cajoling, one confessed that he did not like carrots and did not want them in his soup. Then another picked up a green bean and made a stank face. The other boy said he did not like soup AT ALL. He asked if I had any milk? No, only water.

I asked they boy, "What do you need? How can I help? Are you hungry?"

He just stared at me. Maybe he was four years old.

Again I asked, "What do you need?"

He said, "Mi mama."

She was in the next room. Later, he ate with her. Señora, I can't even.

I had to face the water cooler and fill up extra cups to keep my hands busy and hide my tears.

This stop at the CRC is a blip on their journey. I will never understand the fullness of their stories: the deciding to leave, the fear, the persistence, the not-being-welcomed, the not knowing...the choosing of the Unknown ahead because the Known behind will kill them.

Is there dignity in taking that risk? Or is that also left behind with their homes, their clothes, their pictures, the landmarks of their memories?

On Sunday, I had lunch duty for part of a shift. I was focused and frazzled, serving, wiping, spilling, refilling, mixing Spanish and English.

Another volunteer walked by and said to herself, "okay...so..." as she figured out her next task. My English ear heard, "Okay...so..."

My Spanish ear heard, "Oh queso..."

If you had been there Señora, we could have grinned together.

I asked the families while eating, "Do you need anything?"

A boy about five years old stood up and said, "Necesito una cama."

I didn't understand. Confused, I held up three fingers and said, "1. Sopa 2. Agua 3. Pizza."

He looked at my fingers and calmly said, "Uuuunnnnaaaaa Caaaaammmmmmaaaaa. Tengo sueño."

Spanish II from 1991 regrew in my brain: He wanted a bed. He was sleepy.

That sweet child...I will never know where his shoes have traveled. It doesn't matter right now. Soup, water and pizza are not a bed. He needs to rest so then he can rise, he can almanecer bien.

Señora, I wish you were here. Thank you for teaching me to look for the words, to not stop trying even when I'm afraid I will conjugate a verb wrong, for reminding your students to laugh at themselves and to always, always, always help others.

Con Cariño,

Mollie

***A list of items to send to the Catholic Respite Center coming soon. They need a bigger facility and are currently accepting donations towards the building so they can serve more people in need:

http://sacredheartchurch-mcallen.org/immigrant-assistance/donate-now/