A Different Kind Of Morning

Last week I started looking for volunteer opportunities online during a slow period at work. I'm tired of my own selfishness and decided it'd be nice to do something for someone besides myself. My attention was caught by an organization in Lexington that helps homeless people called the Hope Center. From what I could tell, they provide three meals a day, places to sleep, classes & programs to help people who've lost everything get back on their feet, and probably a bunch of other things that I'm not aware of. They seem like they're really doing a good thing, and they need volunteers. So I emailed the lady in charge and asked her to sign me up to help with breakfast.

I had no idea what this would mean. What kind of help did they need? Should I be worried? After all, a single woman is suppose to be careful where she goes and who she spends her time with. And here I am, female, 23 years old, driving across the railroad tracks in the dark for I didn't know what purpose.

After signing up, I started to have second thoughts. I would have to wake up around 5am in order to get ready for work beforehand, since I would have to go straight to the office after breakfast. I'm not great at waking up any earlier than I absolutely have to, and was this necessary? I mean, The Hope Center has been operating for many years, and they've come this far without any help from me. How much help could I really be?

If there's one thing I know about myself, it's this: when my alarm goes off, all I need is one flimsy excuse to put off whatever it is I'm suppose to be doing, as long as it's not mandatory. And since no one was going to be holding a gun to my head at 5am, I knew I needed a follow through plan. So I told my mom. I knew she'd be excited about the opportunity and would be anxious to question me afterward. If I flaked out when it was time to get up, I'd have to confess to it when she asked me about my experience, and the lameness of my excuse would be too much to bare. No, I didn't help the homeless like I promised I would, because I was too tired to leave my clean, warm bed, with the silk sheets and down comforter. When my alarm went off this morning an hour and half earlier than usual, these were the words in my head, egging me on.

Getting ready for a normal day at the office when you know you'll be spending time with homeless people first is not as easy as you might think. Should I take a shower, or would that be like rubbing it in? Was it okay to curl my hair, or was that too pretentious? I decided to go ahead and dress and style as usual, thankful that my normal work outfit consists of jeans, a polo, and tennis shoes. But the shoes could be a problem. I recently bought a new pair, and they're still incredibly white and, well, new looking. I decided to wear my old gray pair so as not to draw anymore attention to myself than I needed to. Looking back at that decision now makes me chuckle, because no one was looking at my feet.

I left the house later than I meant to, spending too much time eating breakfast and reading the news. I knew roughly where I was going, but still, when traversing to a new place, it's always a good idea to leave time for wrong turns. I found the street without incident, but after turning onto it, I realized that I didn't even know what to look for, or what side of the street the building would be on. I passed a promising looking building to my left, so I pulled into a parking lot to turn around. Pitched black and narrow, I navigated through the entrance, and low and behold I spotted a large van with the words Hope Center printed on the side. This was it. Wondering where I should park, I drove slowly forward, and as I strained to locate a space in the dark, silhouettes became visible. As my eyes became more accustomed to the dim light, I looked around. There were men everywhere. Men standing in groups. Men walking toward the building. Men sitting alone. Men waiting.

My breathing quickened as I located an empty parking space and turned off my car. What now? I hadn't thought to ask where I should go once I got there. Where was I suppose to be? Who was I supposed to report to? What was I doing here?

Getting out of the car, I felt a hundred eyes on me. Ashamed of my shiny car and my clean hair, I began walking toward the entrance, feeling pretty certain that I was the only female in the bunch. My father used to tell me that when a musical note exceeds my singing range, not to avoid it, but to sing louder. As I self-consciously made my way to the front doors, I held my head up and met the stares directed at me, smiling and saying an enthusiastic Good Morning as my heart raced uncontrollably in my chest.

Just as I began to seriously wonder what to do in 5 seconds when I reached the closed entrance, a man greeted me as if he'd been given my picture and was picking me up from the airport. He told me to follow him and led me through the front doors. Once inside, he introduced me to another man, who walked ahead of me through hallways full of men, telling them to make way, MVP coming through. They were smelly and dirty, clutching backpacks, talking and laughing. Everyone was staring at me, the new comer. The woman. The "MVP". I continued my "sing louder" strategy since it seemed to be working. I was greeted with smiles and hardy welcomes.

In the kitchen, there were men preparing food and washing dishes. Two girls stood idle, looking just as out of place as I felt. Kyle, apparently the supervisor, directed us into the serving area and gave us our jobs. I was granted the role of milk & coffee server at the end of the line. The food line works like this: you get a plastic tray, are offered one scoop of rice, one piece of toast, sugar packets, a cup of milk and a cup of coffee. At 6:30am, the doors were opened and breakfast began. I'm not gifted in the art of estimating numbers, but judging from the number of cups I opened, there were well over a hundred and fifty men partaking of breakfast. Almost every man there gave me a smile as I handed him his beverage, asking me how I was doing, and thanking me enthusiastically for being there.

I've worked many retail jobs, some of them in the restaurant industry, and I've never in all my experience served such friendly and enthusiastic people. These men had gotten up early and waited in line for who knows how long in order to receive fairly disgusting food that probably wasn't enough to fill them up, and would have to last them until...

At the coffee shop I used to work in, when I would hand people their piping hot, half-caf, no-foam, white-chocolate carmel cappachino with whip cream, I would smile and tell them to have a good day. More often than not, I was not even acknowledged with a grunt, let alone a reciprocal verbal pleasantry. However, when I handed these men small 3/4 full cups of cheap, weak, plain coffee, they smiled brightly, asking me how I was and telling me thank you. When I asked them how they were, every single one told me he was doing great, ready to face to the day. Some of the men sleep at Hope Center and are in recovery & educational programs there. The majority however do not know where they'll be sleeping when they lay down to rest tonight. If asked, most likely they wouldn't be able to tell me where and when their next meal would take place, but for the moment, their possessions strapped to their backs and a tray of sustenance in their hands, they were thankful for what they had.

I spoke with the other volunteers and people working in the kitchen, all of them incredibly friendly open. Kyle, the supervisor I mentioned lives and works at Hope Center and is currently taking classes to become a councilor for teens. Sue, the head of the kitchen, has worked there for over 15 years and is quite obviously loved by many of the men there. One of the guys cooking and washing dishes who looked to be the same age as me is in a recovery program at Hope Center, kitchen duty being one of his mandatory jobs. The two other girls there are college students at UK, there for the same reason as me.

I'm excited to go back and get to know these people better, and help out however I can. How refreshing to be in a place where so much good is being done. Hope is not an easy thing to find, and after all my church visits around the city, I never expected that the one place I'd find it would be among the homeless.