8 Weeks of Memories- Part 8

‘Tis The Season

“Do not withhold him from doing good, who is able:

If thou art able, do good thyself also”

Proverbs 3:27

Habitat For Humanity, The Salvation Army, Peace Corps; these are names synonymous with giving, helping, and building. These are the foundations of humanity. We all enjoy the look in someone’s eyes when we can help them in some way, regardless of how destitute. It could be as simple as money to pay some bills, to donations of goods or services, etc. Although I’ve never been on the streets, or living in poverty, I’ve been on the receiving end of gifts and help from family and friends. I am eternally grateful for this, indeed.

When I’m able, I love giving to others. And sometimes it’s in words. Recently, I’ve been amazed at how many stories I’ve heard of military people having their bills paid at restaurants, or someone in line at a grocery store paying for the person in front of them when they didn’t have enough money.

I worked for Sysco Food Services from December ’99 to April ’04 as a truck driver, delivering to restaurants, hotels, and resorts. Some of our customers were The Salvation Army, Second Harvest Food Bank, And the YMCA. I can tell you without a doubt, the people who run these organizations, at their very core, display a genuine desire to help others in need.

After I left Sysco, that Christmas, I decided, I could do something also. My time and funds were limited, yet I felt something is better than nothing. Even in the past few years, as the economy worsened, I found that I could help some in need in my own small way.

Since then, every Christmas eve, I’ve gone to a local Burger King, and purchased a bunch of cheeseburgers, and upon speaking to the manager, was able to get him to match my purchase with free burgers. I would leave the store with up to 20 burgers, have of which were donated by the store. My local Burger King has had the same manger since I started this tradition, Jose Acevedo. He’s been very understanding in my mission. For the past few years my mission was to feed the homeless on Christmas Eve. Where I live in Sanford is a mix of all classes of people. The west side of our town has million dollar homes, and south of downtown has a considerable drug and prostitution problem. I read some time ago in the Orlando Sentinel, that there are about 10,000 homeless people in the Orlando area. As of 2009, our population was nearing 3 million people. That’s one sixth the population of the whole state. As cities go, the homeless to sheltered ratio is average for the country. Sanford is no exception.

I would get my burgers and drive around Sanford searching for the destitute and downtrodden. Every year there’s new faces, but there are a few familiar ones each year. There’s a bus stop bench at 3^rd and French that is home to a 60 something woman with a shopping cart full of her life’s possessions, and she wears a heavy winter coat all year long. I’ve always felt for her since the first time I saw her. It saddens me to the heart to see her there, quiet, alone, taking what help she can. She’s been there for years, maybe long before I started passing out burgers.

The first year I went out, she was the first one I went to, and by the way, her bus stop is on the opposite corner from Burger King. I pulled up behind her in the parking area of the business and called to her from the passenger window. I tapped the horn and she glanced over at me with tired weary eyes. I asked her if she was hungry, and she suddenly became full of life. I told her I had hot burgers for her and she stood up quickly, and held close her thick dirty jacket and hobbled over to my passenger window. With a raspy worn voice she thanked me repeatedly for the food and told me that God would bless me for my kindness. I told her to try and stay warm, as even in Florida it can get cold during the holiday nights. I could tell immediately she was overtaken with joy at the thought of a meal, and a hot one at that. I know it’s only burgers, but to someone who goes too many nights without eating, it was like putting fuel on a dwindling flame, a flame in her soul that has long since died down.

That first night I passed out 16 of the 20 burgers I had. There was a man at the bus depot at Wal-Mart, and even a prostitute at a pay phone in the parking lot of a grocery store that had closed early for the holiday. I was out on the streets, driving around for about an hour, and I have to tell you, the feeling I got was tremendous. I didn’t give a million dollars to a soup kitchen, and I didn’t provide a warm bed, and I didn’t give anyone money that I didn’t have, but I did feed a few hungry folks on a cold night.

Each year that passes, I keep heading out on Christmas Eve, and for a few moments, I help some people in need. It’s not much, but it’s something, and it feels amazing.