Sometimes it is so difficult to keep writing.
There is so much I want to tell you about. There is so much I want to record and never forget.
I want to tell you how we started The Breakfast Club this week. We have over forty kids coming into our house every morning between 6:30 and 8am to eat a full bowl of breakfast–rice or noodles, eggs, tofu, or fish; tiny chopped vegetables so the kids gulp them right down. A well-balanced meal.
I wish you could see their faces or watch them pull out their Breakfast Club card like a badge. I wish you could see Thida show up with a smile at 6am or before to start cooking, to chop everything, to stir curry in a ginormous pot that covers two burners. I wish you could see, in person, what a five liter rice cooker looks like on our tiny little counter in our tiny little kitchen.
I wish you could see Thida bring them a full plate, make sure they are full before they go, and just ensure they are cared for.
I wish you could see the floor when they leave. And see how well Thida cares for that, too.
It’s working. We are watching kids come hungry and leave full. And it isn’t worst-case-scenario chaotic: just normal chaos.
But there are also so many things I want to forget, too.
I’d also have to tell you about the hungry moms. I’d have to tell you about the challenges of determining how to ensure we aren’t taken advantage of by some, but also not missing an opportunity with others. I’d have to tell you about the mom hiding in the kitchen, scarfing down the last of her son’s unfinished bowl. I’d have to tell you how, even among the malnourished, you can tell who is truly, truly poor and truly, truly hungry. You can see it in their faces and in their eyes and in their bowls.
You can feel it, and it follows you–through the day and to the next morning, when they eat two big bowls all over again.
I knew The Breakfast Club was a big task. I knew our house would be open at early every morning (the 5:30am was a surprise…), and I knew that’d be an interesting shift in our lives. I knew it’d be a new dynamic with Thida as we learn the ropes. I knew there would be people with questions about why their kids weren’t included; I knew we’d have others that would take advantage. I knew it would be a lot more shopping in the market and a lot more activity in our home.
It is all those things.
But I didn’t expect the weight of it. The joy and mourning, every morning at such an early hour. The mourning of hungry kids waiting at the front door and those so excited for a plate of food, perhaps because they are hungry from the last “meal” they had. The joy of having a hot, steaming bowl ready for them. The emotions of seeing some embarrassed because they are just so hungry.
Oh, friends–this place is heavy.
It is good, and there are good things happening. We are thankful The Breakfast Club is funded and functioning, perhaps at the best time possible while families are a bit panicked at new laws coming into play and the potential of their lives shifting. God knows, and God is good.
And God is here, waking with us each morning, listening patiently to our questions, wiping away our tears, and filling their empty bellies.
