When I Was at My Best

I walked in the front doors, scared to see what would come of my encounter. I remember the feeling of the door was rough, not knowing it was to be touched with smooth, careless fingers. I felt at a stand still, everyone walking around me, almost like the speed of light. As I stand motionless, wondering what to expect. My thoughts moving in and out of my head, trying to make sense of what was going on around me. I gather myself just in time to realize, I have entered a room with beautifully decorated tables. The harvest leaves, looked of golden pieces of paper surrounding a clear glass bowl. The bowls filled with little pebbles, that shinned in the light, of a iridescent color. I made my way to the tables, slowly ran my child-like hands lightly around the beautiful items, almost as if they were about to break away.

I remember the smells that hit my nose, like cashing wind around a tree. The smell of homemade goods and the love put in each dish. As my head rushes to pick out each smell, with every sniff of my nose. As I get closer to the audience, I make sure I'm conscience enough to greet people. Then, all of a sudden, I'm woke from my trance to a, "Hello Ronika, Are you here to help?" I felt as if my feet grew roots and I was now I was surrender to this very spot. I glanced up, to see my Paster looking at me with his heart-felt eyes. I can still feel his warm hand shack, the one I shook after each dismissal of church. His eyes full of compassion and the smile that pulls you to say, "yes," without thinking.

My Paster shows me the way, to where I start off my night. I picked up a bowl, I looked up slowly, to see the person I'm giving food to. I smile and say "Hello," as my fragile hands scoop up soup, to fill a bowl full of hope. This bowl of hot soup, that I can picture going down their throats smoothly and filling them with warmth. After, some time, I work my way, to filling drinks. As I watch people walk by, I start to feel sorrow for what I take for grated. These people came for a home cooked meal, which they don't get everyday. I start to feel a dizzy, sort-of butterfly feeling. I walk towards the door, when I feel that warm hand grab my arm. My Paster looks at me and ask, "What's wrong?" I turn to him, with my eyes filled with doubt. I said, "They have nothing and don't complain. Why is that I feel horrible because I have everything I need and still want more?" He just smiled, this very thoughtful smile and said, "Just because they don't complain, doesn't mean they don't want to. It's okay to feel the way you do, because your here, making a difference. Let's go." I follow his wisdom back to help.

Later, as we are cleaning up everything that was left, I felt good inside. I started to grab bowls and other garbage, when I felt a cold touch. I turned around and a elderly lady was looking at me. She told me, "Thank you for everything you did tonight." I smiled and with the warmth that filled my heart I said back, "Your very welcome ma'am." She turned around and made her way out the doors. That moment, my world stopped around me, I had nothing to say and the smile on my face grew huge. My Paster came up to me, smiled his grateful smile and hugged me. He looked at me and said, "See, you made a difference in that elderly ladies life."

I felt amazing knowing that I helped feed members of my church and others that needed food. This feeling was more then anything I could ever imagine. This feeling that consumed me, as if I was eating myself. I went to throw away what was left, knowing how great I felt inside. As I slowly made my way to the doors, I stopped, looked back to see the great that happened that night. How a simple smile and showing them hope, filled each of them with hope. This was the best time of my life and I felt like a better person.


Ronika S. Walker