The parson arrived at the church kitchen in preparation
for Soup Supper Monday. The weekly event had started to provide meals for those
who needed such in the worst part of the recession. Now it had grown to include
providing a meal to home bound, sick, and/or lonely folks throughout the area.
The youth of the church delivered the meals each week, a project whose clients
had grown to a much larger number than those served at the church.
Nevertheless, Florence was always there. Florence was there
long before any other recipients of the meal arrived. She usually showed up
shortly after the first cook arrived. As usual on this particular day Florence
appeared at the kitchen door to inquire what was on the menu.
“Tonight we’re having Nacho Cheese Soup, Florence,” said the
parson.
“What kind of cheese are you using?”
“We’re using some Velveeta cheese tonight.”
“I see,” said Florence, “did you check the expiration date
on that cheese?”
“I did not, Florence. We bought it this morning. If you’re
worried about it, the package is in that trash can.”
Florence ambled into the kitchen with a body language that
seemed to ask why this matter wasn’t resolved before her arrival. She poked
around the trash and finally retrieved the wrapping from the cheese. After careful inspection she
announced, “Okay, that will be okay. In fact that’s fresh enough I could take
what’s leftover off your hands.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Florence,” said the parson.
“You buy that ground beef today?”
“I did.”
“Did you check to see how fresh it was?”
“No, I didn’t. Tell you what, we’re not going to start
serving for an hour. I could give you a little to taste, and if you don’t get
sick before then we’ll know it’s okay.”
“Ha, ha, Parson, you’re funny. I guess I’ll trust you. You
haven’t made me sick yet.”
Florence went back into the fellowship hall.The parson
continued cooking but noticed as he glanced through the pass through window she
was settled in, seated at one of the tables with her feet propped up on another
chair reading a newspaper. Charlie Brown, the parson’s faithful canine
companion, had his head resting on her thigh as she scratched absent minded-ly.
The parson continued with his cooking. In a half hour, Virginia
Hopper came in to help.
“Florence is in the fellowship hall waiting,” she informed
the parson.
“I know,” said the parson. “She’s already approved the menu.”
“I wonder how much money she’ll get out of us tonight,” said
Virginia. “When you told us God sent her as an object lesson, I thought you
were nuts. Fact is, I still do.”
The parson had once explained to the volunteers Florence hit
up ever week that she was a professional beggar and she was really good at her
profession. He suggested if the followers of the Lord would get as good at their
job as Florence was at hers the world would be a better place.
Everyone was surprised this Monday, however. Florence did
not ask for a penny. She did suggest to the parson and several other folks that
a special collection on Sunday morning to help her purchase a new transmission
for her van would be appropriate.
The parson was scrubbing a pot when Florence came back into
the kitchen. The youth had returned from distributing the carryout meals. The
fellowship hall was full of laughter and slurping sounds as the kids devoured
their soup while updating their Facebook age on the church’s wi-fi.
“Have a good week, Florence,” said the parson. “See you next
Monday.”
“You could see me Sunday, Parson, if you’d have that special
offering for my transmission.”
“Let me think about it,” said the parson.
“Okay,” she said, but I do need one of those carryout meals.”
“You didn’t get enough to eat?”
“No, I got plenty. Ms. Parson sure knows how to make
pineapple upside down cake.”
“I’ll tell her you said so,” said the parson. “Why do you
want a carryout page?”
“Well, my landlord is an alcoholic, you know. He kind of
lives from one SSI check to the next, and his ain’t as big as mine. So, anyway,
he’s really sick. Don’t know what’s wrong with him. So I thought maybe some of
that soup …. What did you call it?”
“Nacho Cheese.”
“Yeah, that’s it. Nacho Cheese. So I could take some of that
home with me and he could have a good meal. It probably would help him.”
“Okay, Florence,” said the parson. “Hang on a minute.”
He turned around to behold Virginia holding two takeout
plates for Florence.
“I appreciate this,” said Florence.
“I appreciate you helping others,” said the parson.
“Well, that’s what we Christians do, Parson. That’s what we
Christians do.”
The parson watched her walk from the kitchen and through the
fellowship hall. She stopped at the door, put her plates on a table, and
reached down to scratch Charlie Brown behind both his ears.
“I’ll see ya next Monday, Charlie Brown,” she said. She
picked up her plates and headed out on her Christian mission.
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