Last Sunday after Church, somebody suggested that we have meatloaf for Dinner on Wednesday, so we took the idea and ran with it. Everybody made meatloaf. 6 very different varieties. It was a big hit.
People have been making suggestions more and more recently, and teasing ("I liked the chicken, but next time you can leave the lemon at home!") and telling us how their mothers used to make it. There's a growing sense of being at home and taking ownership around Dinner. There are those who've taken it on to clean and polish the windows and mirrors in the room. L. is earning some community service hours by helping clean and set up, and O. sweeps and tidies and helps carry stuff in from the cars, and plays the piano for us.
And there's more talk of how we can invite people to Dinner who don't live on the property. There are some who come now, but not many.
There's an older man who lives near the back who can't make it to Dinner because his rheumatism is crippling, so a few regulars pack up meals for him and his friend and deliver it to them. The 'served' are becoming servers.
But even more, Dinner has become iconic, in a way that's completely unexpected.
A couple of weeks ago there was a big meeting in town, a day of discussion around the issue of poverty in our area. What are the problems, who is trying to solve them, what are they doing? Scores of people, mostly representing agencies, had round table discussions comparing notes and trying to get, at least, an overview of what is going on.
So one agency group decided to put together a presentation. There's an apartment complex a block from the Motel that's geared to income, where the residents are paying about the same as what folks at the Motel pay. A woman from the group went there and took some pictures. Then, with every good intention, she came down the block to take some pics for comparison. Side by side. They're paying the same rent and look what they're getting.
While she was taking her pictures, she was accosted by one of our friends from Dinner who wanted to know what she was doing. The woman explained, but our friend told her that she had no right to be taking pictures without peoples' permission, whatever her reason. The woman was told, "We have rights. We have friends and we have Dinner every week, so don't come here and take pictures without asking." She was then made to promise to delete all of the pictures of the Motel and sent on her way.
Who would have ever thought that having Dinner once a week would be so empowering? Who would have thought that "having friends" could be so empowering?
I may never understand how our just showing up week after week after week could make this kind of difference. How our becoming a group made up of 'those of us who live here and those of us who don't' could alter someone's perception of themselves.
How such a little thing, done over and over and over could change someone's world.
r
People have been making suggestions more and more recently, and teasing ("I liked the chicken, but next time you can leave the lemon at home!") and telling us how their mothers used to make it. There's a growing sense of being at home and taking ownership around Dinner. There are those who've taken it on to clean and polish the windows and mirrors in the room. L. is earning some community service hours by helping clean and set up, and O. sweeps and tidies and helps carry stuff in from the cars, and plays the piano for us.
And there's more talk of how we can invite people to Dinner who don't live on the property. There are some who come now, but not many.
There's an older man who lives near the back who can't make it to Dinner because his rheumatism is crippling, so a few regulars pack up meals for him and his friend and deliver it to them. The 'served' are becoming servers.
But even more, Dinner has become iconic, in a way that's completely unexpected.
A couple of weeks ago there was a big meeting in town, a day of discussion around the issue of poverty in our area. What are the problems, who is trying to solve them, what are they doing? Scores of people, mostly representing agencies, had round table discussions comparing notes and trying to get, at least, an overview of what is going on.
So one agency group decided to put together a presentation. There's an apartment complex a block from the Motel that's geared to income, where the residents are paying about the same as what folks at the Motel pay. A woman from the group went there and took some pictures. Then, with every good intention, she came down the block to take some pics for comparison. Side by side. They're paying the same rent and look what they're getting.
While she was taking her pictures, she was accosted by one of our friends from Dinner who wanted to know what she was doing. The woman explained, but our friend told her that she had no right to be taking pictures without peoples' permission, whatever her reason. The woman was told, "We have rights. We have friends and we have Dinner every week, so don't come here and take pictures without asking." She was then made to promise to delete all of the pictures of the Motel and sent on her way.
Who would have ever thought that having Dinner once a week would be so empowering? Who would have thought that "having friends" could be so empowering?
I may never understand how our just showing up week after week after week could make this kind of difference. How our becoming a group made up of 'those of us who live here and those of us who don't' could alter someone's perception of themselves.
How such a little thing, done over and over and over could change someone's world.
r
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