For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat; I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink; I was a stranger and you took me in;I was naked and you clothed me; I was sick and you took care of me; I was in prison and you visited me.
Matthew 25:35 & 36
The Carter Burden Center: Meals on Heels
One of my goals in life is to bridge the gap and eliminate certain stigmas between generations. How many times have we heard, or maybe even used, the cliche "Those darn kids with their Rock n' Roll" in reference to the elders in our lives? While that statement might be accurate for some, it's not for many. Many elders feel like we, as the younger generation, don't care to listen to their experiences and stories. However, we think the very same thing of the generations above us. So you see the dilemma: it's the old "I hate you because you hate me" trick.
The stereotypes we've placed on each generation is a tool of the enemy for divisiveness within not only the body of believers, but the non-believers, too. If he can make you resent the little old lady that lives across the street, then there is no way you would sit down for tea with her and hear her testimony, saved or not.
Personally, I have always loved old people: they way they dress, the way they smell, their sense of humor (or lack thereof). But what I love most about them is what stories they have to share. The elders in my community have been through things that I never have to imagine going through, and visa versa. For me not to sit down and hear from them is in no way beneficial to either party. But, I am getting way ahead of myself.
On the third Saturday in September, CRI went to the Carter Burden Center on the Upper East Side of Manhattan to volunteer with their Meals on Heels program. Once they knew that Faith, AJ and I had paired up, we were sent on our way. We had spent the entire morning delivering meals to the home-bound elders in the area, and man did we meet some characters.
Meeting Mr. Al George
Al, he told us to call him, was a little man hunched over his walker with burly unkempt eyebrows. His voice was smooth and he spoke with a certain kind of gentleness and passion. He was hard of hearing and also blind but"It makes you appreciate the finer things in life" he'd say. We stood in his doorway for a little over an hour where he told us of how he was a Disc Jockey with his own radio station in South Carolina. How he had taught English as a second language at Hunter College before retiring. How he was in an orchestra that traveled all over... all while classical music blared in the background, to which he would stop mid sentence, swaying and humming the tune of an piece unfamiliar to me.
I wish I could say we prayed with him before we left and will see him on the other side of eternity. But the truth of the matter is that I don't know if we will. You see, the point of ministry isn't to always be sharing the gospel with your words, but with your actions. Sometimes sharing the love of Jesus is just giving up a Saturday morning to deliver food to those that are home-bound. As we walked away, the Lord reassured me that what we did today for Al, just listening to him, would change his life drastically.
Let's continue changing the world by connecting with those who've already changed it. Without their wisdom, we'll make the same mistakes.
Peace,
Ruby.
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