A Delivery Shift at Project Angel Heart
Saturday afternoon rolled around, and I found myself sitting on a bench at the side of the street. I was sitting, with my head leaned back, sunglasses covering my eyes, and quietly chatting with Marysia and MaryKate who sat on either side of me. It was a beautiful day full of sunshine and warm weather. We sat waiting for the ride that would take us to the Project Angel Heart headquarters where we would pick up food, receive a map, and then deliver said food to the destinations pointed out on the map.
Our ride came and we loaded into the vehicle. The drive to Project Angel Heart seemed long and relaxing to the point of sleep. But perhaps it was just the car ride and the warm sun that induced the desire to sleep. Eventually we arrived at our destination. We pulled up in front of what looked like a warehouse. The doors to the building were spilling out happy, smiling people, carrying colorful bags which must have been containing food.
We all got out of the car and walked inside the building. We entered and were quickly greeted by a friendly woman. She gave us a quick tour, had us sign some paper work, and then showed us our cart full of food and us a map. We loaded everything into the car and were on our way.
Upon pulling up to the first house, I could feel my heart rate accelerate a little bit. Marysia and I hopped out of the back seat and walked around to the trunk of the car. We gathered the food bags. We walked to the front door, and rang the door bell. A minute passed and there was no sound. We exchanged confused looks and then finally heard a sound. A voice from deep within the house shouted, “Coming!” Shortly after that the door opened and a woman stood before us. She was hooked up to an oxygen tank and looked a little frazzled. But she was still very nice to us. She told us where to place the food, thanked us for the food, and that was it. She thanked us, we wished her a good day, and then we left.
We were in her life for a matter of minutes. Maybe not even that. But I still felt like I had helped. Maybe this wasn’t warranted, but I couldn’t deny feeling good that I had brought this woman a supply of food that would last her the entire week.
The rest of the day continued in a similar manner. Two of us would go to every door. We worked out a cycle taking turns delivering food. Food was brought to older men, families where sons opened the door, and many others. Before we knew it, the shift was over, and all the food that had been residing in the trunk of the car now had new owners. As insubstantial as it seemed, and as short lived as the contact was, I truly felt like I had helped others. I had partaken in giving people food that would sustain them in more ways the one. Physically, the food gave them the nutrients their bodies need. Mentally, these clients knew that people were thinking of them. They had something to look forward to in their everyday lives. They weren’t alone. And all of this was accomplished by ringing a doorbell while bearing a bag of food.