About a month ago, I was on my way to the hospital to visit the children and make balloons for the little patients with Danci. He told me to meet at 10, but I was early, so instead of taking the tram I decided to walk thru the park instead and that way I wouldn't have to wait at the lobby for that extra half-hour.
On the way there, I noticed a line of shabby looking people waiting in front of a gate that went down a few steps to what I could see was a kitchen. I figured this was a homeless kitchen run by some kind of organization and I wrote down the info so I would google it at home.
I found out it's called the Magyar-Maltai and it's sort of like Caritas here in Hungary. A few days later, I met Danci in town and I made him come down with me to ask if they could use an extra pair of hands every now and then. The people working there were happily surprised to hear that I wanted to help. They told me they are open every working day from 6 to 12 in the morning and that if I didn't mind waking early I could come and help them butter bread and serve the tea.
Ever since, I've been going there once a week, usually on Tuesdays and I serve the tea and help clean up.
I don't do much, I sometimes can't make out what people are telling me and have to get someone else to repeat the question that was asked. I smile, say good morning, serve the tea, fill the bottles and if I understand at all what they tell me, I nod and perhaps answer in my poor Hungarian.
One day as I was serving tea, I was thinking to myself that perhaps it was silly of me to come at all--there was nothing I could offer these people. And believe, some of them are in real need--they have no homes, no hot meals, no place to go, no money to support their families, and all I was doing was serving tea. My friend Eden always says that if she had all the money in the world, she would build houses for the homeless and provide places for them to get ahead in life. But unfortunately we don't and what we do give away seems so insignificant compared to the need.
Those were my thoughts that morning as I filled cups when an older man, looking very raggedy and slovenly took his cup and said "Thank you for smiling..." Here he was, without a house, probably cold and hungry and he was thanking me for smiling.
And I realized that even if we don't have all them money in the world, and we cannot build houses and hospitals, every act of love that we do, counts. Believe it or not, even a smile!
Nell and I--Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!!!