Bread of life

It is a blessing to know what having no money means. That fact became crystal clear this summer when I handed out food at a mission in Indianapolis.\nThe company I worked for in Indy, United Package Liquors, owned and run by Lor Corp., is the largest liquor store chain in the city. Its owner, Leon Riggs, is a very wealthy man to say the least. But in every store there is a coin drop bucket where it tells how the company will match dollar for dollar for the "Feed the Hungry" mission.\nOne of my co-workers, Ray, a middle-aged Chicago Sicilian man of great wit and humility (who also makes the best Italian food this side of Tuscany) told me that I would meet him one Saturday morning at 9 a.m. to go to the mission with him. He didn't have to ask me -- I was going to go.\nWe drove down to the southwest side of Indianapolis, less than a mile from the IU-Purdue University at Indianapolis campus, to an open lot where we saw many parked cars and quite a few people standing around and setting up tables. This was not a mission in a building, it was just a lot of people wanting to give people some food.\nRay told me one thing before we left, "Watch with your heart."\nNot knowing what to expect, I went up to Lee's car (as Mr. Riggs told me to call him later) and was ready to shake his hand and introduce myself. Lee is a paraplegic, unable to use his legs for the last 30 some years after losing them in a stunt pilot accident. A man who had so much in life did not have the ability to walk.\nTogether, we stood and handed out bags of popcorn and chips to children, women and men. One woman had a skin disease so severe she could barely walk. These were not people you'd expect either, not a single race or creed. \nThese people were those who, even with the food we gave, couldn't keep it cold in a refrigerator or cook it in an oven. Lee gave out the bags of chips and soap and shampoo and lollipops to the kids as if his life depended on it, but also with a joyful melancholy. \nFinally, when all the food was gone and the last of the popcorn had been given, we cleaned up and preacher Lucius called everyone together -- those newest to the front for what was called "the treatment."\nLucius, a very humbled black man of many years, spoke to us in his soulful, medium-pitched voice of the great deed we'd done and gave thanks to God for all of his gifts. I looked at this man of the cloth, missing his front teeth, dying of cancer, who had given up a lucrative business to serve his Lord, tell me that I had a debt to repay. \nThe debt was a large debt, but not one to overwhelm. All I needed to do in order to redeem the debt was to go to my dad and give him a big hug and say a simple "thank you."\nThat night, I went home and did just that and felt as if I'd repaid the greatest debt I'd ever accrued. It was not so much to redeem -- a simple thank you to whomever for the knowledge that at the end of the day I had a bed, a refrigerator, an oven that works and a father who loves me.