Small Choices

Plastic ware seems like an insignificant topic. Plastic is plastic. What does it matter the type of plastic being used.

Actually, it's a big deal. It sends a message about the type of organization we are and how we treat our guests. Years ago we relied upon donated plastic forks, knives and spoons from a local manufacturer. It was the cheapest route for us to take. The company would frequently have rejects they couldn't sell. Never mind the fact that the forks would routinely break, that the knives couldn't cut and the spoons were hardly usable for soup. And then there were the sporks, a multi-purpose, entirely useless eating instrument.

So we changed. We now purchase heavy-duty plastic ware. The knives actually cut, the forks hold up under pressure and the spoons are designed for eating soup. It's one of the small measures we take to show that our clients have value and worth; that coming to a soup kitchen should not be denigrated by providing shoddy service. We look forward to the day when we have an industrial dish washer: just think, real silverware, plates, perhaps even linens...

Absolutely No Service (sort of)

Weekends at Manna on Main Street are reserved for the soup kitchen only. We don't operate the food pantry or provide any case management services. The intent is to set boundaries for clients, to help them plan ahead and not run to us when minor emergencies arise. It also gives our staff a bit of a break from responding to crises seven days a week.

This past weekend was a little different. A young man called and explained that his insulin prescription had been exhausted. He didn't want to bother us on Friday and was hopeful he could get help from one of his family members to have the prescription filled. It didn't work out, and so he called us. We could have told him to call back on Monday, or go to the hospital emergency room; but in the long run it would made his life more difficult and more expensive for our community to provide care. So we called the local pharmacy and told them we would cover the cost of his medication.

Sometimes breaking our own rules is the best thing we do...

Good Food, Bad Food

Most of the food at Manna is donated. Individuals, groups, grocery stores give what they can, and we are thankful. Still, the people who come to eat at Manna deserve good food. For many of them, the meal they eat at Manna is their only meal. It raises a number of questions:

• how often should we serve pasta and tomato sauce
  
• how many leftover donuts do we make available
  
• are sugary drink mixes acceptable

We continue to sort out these questions, balancing what we can do, what we need to do...

All,

"All you can eat" sends a message of:

• Self-absorption
• Gluttony, excess, hoarding
• It's not free... a price is to be paid

"All, you can eat" indicates:

• A moment of reflection
  
• An openness to giving, sharing the loaf
  
• Freedom from constraints
  

A simple comma changes everything. It gives a bit of space, a pause to consider what might be.

Perhaps you can be a comma, that pause, that moment of reflection that changes everything...

No Customers

Many marketing experts are encouraging nonprofits today to think about the people that come to them for help, as customers. The thought process supporting that is that if we treat them like a customer, we will serve them better.

Actually, that can be a dangerous approach. The mindset behind a customer relationship is that the individual has a choice; that they can decide whether to utilize your services or not. Most individuals that come to Manna do not have a choice. As soon as we start treating them like customers, that they can leave if they don't like our services, we marginalize them.

What really works is to not treat them as anything, but to simply act as a servant...

Good Rocks

Found by the sidewalk a few blocks from Manna.

What small, yet powerful action might you take to promote the good in this world...

Imagine Manna

That's exactly what happened. Nearly 30 years ago, a man had a vision that there would be a place where everyone might be fed; not only in the physical sense, but in mind and spirit as well. That man, John Touchberry, passed from this earth last week, having fully lived 80 years.

Today, we're all used to having Manna around, but establishing a soup kitchen back in the early 80s entailed risks. A number of folks tried to prevent Manna from even opening, for fear of "those people" it would attract.

While it would be simple enough for us to look back on the quantity of meals served at Manna, or the tons of food distributed, or the number of families assisted in his lifetime, John would not be satisfied with sentimental reflections. Instead, he would challenge us to look beyond where we are; to look for other opportunities to learn and grow in order to serve others.

Manna is in the early stages of looking for a new facility, and it is appropriate, more than ever, for us to look forward and dream of what we might yet be. What can we imagine? Can we look beyond the edges of where we are today and dream what that might mean for this community? How can we improve our service to others? John would certainly have some ideas...