— By Deb Stratman, Crosslines Volunteer
From where I sat at the front desk, I greeted an older man who made his way inside, limping as he walked with a lift in his left shoe. It was clear from his bent posture that he carried a heaviness with him, eyes downcast, unable to meet my gaze. As he approached, I smiled warmly and welcomed him, and asked if he had visited the Crosslines pantry before.
When he finally lifted his face, I saw tears welling in his eyes as they searched me for answers to unspoken questions.
“No,” he responded, holding back emotion. “I never thought I’d be in a situation like this. I worked my whole life—I’m ashamed.”
I gently responded that I heard him, and that his experience was actually not uncommon among countless retired senior citizens we served daily. Seniors living on a fixed income are struggling to make ends meet as they once did.
We guided him through the pantry and did our best to lift his spirit along the way, encouraging him and showing him grace he desperately needed to feel to shed the shame he walked in with. Still, as I watched him leave with groceries in hand, I sensed I would probably never see him again.
Our days at Crosslines have been busier than ever before, with often up to 20 families lined up at the door before we’ve even opened.
In the past, serving 80 families might have been considered busy; on an average day now, serving 100 is unusually low, with as many as 165 guests coming through in a single day. But even on the difficult days, we do our best to keep attitudes positive and uplifting and the atmosphere light, even fun.
Our volunteer base has also grown to keep up, but the reality is that serving these guests has ignited a new sense of purpose and energy into our lives—time is a gift, I always say, and any time spent here gives back far more than I ever could give.
One day several weeks later, as I welcomed guests, I saw a familiar face come through the door. Although now he carried himself differently, I instantly recognized the man who had come in broken and ashamed weeks before. This time, he smiled and stood up straight, hopeful and unashamed, and met my gaze.
“Hey, friend!” I exclaimed. “How have you been?” The man paused momentarily and asked if I remembered him. I told him, of course I did, and that I was so glad to see him! His face lit up.
Moments like these allow us brief windows into lives, where we can offer more than what grocery bags can hold. We look for opportunities to shine slivers of light through shuttered panes, serving neighbors with the love of Jesus Christ that takes away our shame.
Our mission is more than just a feel-good outreach. It’s a calling to bind up the brokenhearted, and it’s our absolute privilege.