A lesson at the food pantry
A woman teaches a giver about asking forgiveness.
by Sheri HartzlerPrint Article Email to a Friend
For the past 13 years I have spent Wednesday nights at Patchwork Pantry, an ecumenically run food pantry housed at my church, Community Mennonite in Harrisonburg, Va. The pantry serves around 150 families each month.
One night in late August, a middle-aged woman I’ll call Kim came to the pantry. It was a hot, busy night, with the line of those waiting for food stretching far down the hallway. I knew it would be a long night.
During the summer, many friends of the Pantry donate large quantities of garden produce, and this night two tables groaned with tomatoes, peppers, potatoes and even bouquets of flowers. Clients were asked to wait until after their interview before getting produce.
Kim had come early, finding a place within the first half dozen people in line, the better to have first crack at the fresh produce.
We opened up, and within 10 minutes Kim came storming across the room, demanding an explanation for the delay in getting to the interview table. She was certain all the “good stuff” was being taken while she waited.
I explained that she would be next, that we had a large supply of produce and there would certainly be enough for her to have her choice of vegetables when she got to the table. I even told her to get her produce immediately instead of waiting for her interview if she was concerned.
But nothing I said made any difference. She was angry. She sought out others who were in charge of the work that evening and gave them the same complaint. Finally, after eventually getting her interview and her vegetables, she complained one last time, that she only had rotten vegetables to choose from.
I was ready to tell her she didn’t have to get food at the pantry anymore if it wasn’t satisfactory. Why couldn’t she be grateful for the free food? Here we were working hard to make it available and all she could do was complain. I told all my friends and family about the complaining client.
A month passed. Kim came back to the pantry, again arriving early. She came directly to the kitchen where we worked and with tears in her eyes asked for our forgiveness. “I worried about this all month,” she said. “I was wrong to be so upset last time I was here. I should not have complained. I was terrible.”
I was dumbfounded. I told her I assumed she was having a bad day that day, and she said, “It wasn’t just a bad day. It was a bad month. But I had no right to treat you that way.”
I assured Kim of forgiveness and wondered if I would have had the courage to do what she did.
I had to think of Ephesians 4:32 (NIV), which says, “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” Being the one to do the forgiving is easier than asking for forgiveness, at least for me.
In the musical “Live at Jacob’s Ladder” by Ted & Lee and Ken Medema, Jacob asks Esau, “What do I have to do to gain your forgiveness?” And Esau replies, “Just ask.”
Kim did just that. When she walked out the door that night, she told me how much better she felt.
How quick am I to ask forgiveness for those short words that are said in frustration and sometimes anger—to my husband, my kids, my co-workers? I am so often tempted to assume that if enough time passes, it will be forgotten, so there’s no need to ask forgiveness.
Often I have said I continue to do this work at the pantry because it reminds me to be ever grateful for the things in my life I too often take for granted: the ability to hold a job that pays enough money for groceries and much more and that provides health insurance so that unexpected medical bills don’t cause financial disaster. While I gain much from this reminder, I know that most Wednesday evenings I think of myself as the giver. Kim reminded me that sometimes we learn more from those we serve than we would ever expect.
I only see Kim once a month for a few minutes. She didn’t need to ask my forgiveness in order to continue to get food. She asked because she knew she had done wrong and wanted to wipe the slate clean. I will greet Kim the next time she comes to the pantry in a new way—as a person who has asked for and received my forgiveness. I wonder what else she has to teach me?
Sheri Hartzler is director of Patchwork Pantry in Harrisonburg, Va.
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