On the third night of our first trip to the Offin Children's Centre, I saw something that really troubled me. It happened to be Thursday, November 22 - American Thanksgiving - and it happened over the evening meal.
It was right around dinner time when I decided to take a walk to the back corner of the Orphanage property.
I came across an older woman who was sitting in a cement enclosure, alone. When I asked her what she was doing, her face lit up with a weathered yet captivating smile; she couldn't wait to show me! This sweet woman was sifting through the rice, one small handful at a time, and cleaning the lentils before preparing the evening meal for almost 90 orphans all by herself.
I came across an older woman who was sitting in a cement enclosure, alone. When I asked her what she was doing, her face lit up with a weathered yet captivating smile; she couldn't wait to show me! This sweet woman was sifting through the rice, one small handful at a time, and cleaning the lentils before preparing the evening meal for almost 90 orphans all by herself.
Earlier in the day, when she prepared lunch for 500 school children, she had the help of another woman (pictured above.) This evening, however, she was working alone.
My mind immediately jumped to my little kitchen in Zeeland, where my absolute favorite date night is when Tim and I plan, prepare, and then enjoy a meal together. Next, I thought about my childhood kitchen in Lawton, where my love of food and cooking developed through hours spent over the stove and then around the table with my mom and dad. Finally, I thought about my Grandma's kitchen in Jackson, where I could just picture 20+ Schneiders - all bumping elbows, fighting over counter space, and tripping over dog's tails as they spent that very morning preparing the Thanksgiving meal together.
In my family, food is a way to show love. We buy it with thought, cook it with care, and take pride in sharing what we've created with another person. The kitchen and the dinner table are where most of our relational connections happen. That's why it broke my heart to see adults cooking, and then children eating, in isolation.
In my family, food is a way to show love. We buy it with thought, cook it with care, and take pride in sharing what we've created with another person. The kitchen and the dinner table are where most of our relational connections happen. That's why it broke my heart to see adults cooking, and then children eating, in isolation.
You see, after the woman prepares all of the food for the children, she starts scooping it into bowls. As children start to anticipate dinner time, they make their way back to the "kitchen," where they are handed their food. The children then scatter with their large bowls and often find a place to sit and eat by themselves. There are not enough bowls for everyone, so children will sometimes find a friend to share a bowl with - but not with any regularity. Children rarely eat with or near the same people.
The Offin Children's Centre is incredibly blessed to have enough food to meet the basic needs of all of the 80+ children and adults. This is not the norm in many orphanages in Africa and I'm not overlooking that fact at all. However, after reflecting so deeply on the role of food in my own life and how far it extends beyond just physical nourishment, I couldn't help but want something more for these children.
I want tables.
More specifically, I want a dining room.
I want a place where the adults can proudly present the meal that they've prepared and the children can eat together in community.
There's something so holy about sharing a meal with another person, and I desperately want these children to experience that. I want these orphans - who don't have dads to teach them not to talk with their mouths full or moms to teach them how to clean up after themselves - to experience the power and communion of breaking bread together. I want them to have the opportunity to sit next to another human being and learn to connect beyond just sharing a bowl.
After silently observing for a few more meals, Tim and I decided to share our thoughts with Mary.
Stay Tuned...
There's something so holy about sharing a meal with another person, and I desperately want these children to experience that. I want these orphans - who don't have dads to teach them not to talk with their mouths full or moms to teach them how to clean up after themselves - to experience the power and communion of breaking bread together. I want them to have the opportunity to sit next to another human being and learn to connect beyond just sharing a bowl.
After silently observing for a few more meals, Tim and I decided to share our thoughts with Mary.
Stay Tuned...