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I live an insular life. My privileged middle class existence does not often engage poverty, adversity, or grief. I know this. And yet I have made only token efforts to reach outside of my bourgeois bubble and grasp a hand in need (my outreach typically involves throwing money at charities and letting them do the hard, inconvenient work).
So, I am ashamed to say that a hand in need gave me a gift this Mother’s Day.
I will set the scene for you: a bright, shiny family enjoys their gourmet picnic in an urban park.

While they eat their $10 chocolates and artisan cheese, a group of down-and-out men line up for a soup kitchen handout behind them.

One disheveled man approaches, and the parents both inwardly cringe. But instead of asking for cash, the man requests permission to give the Mom a yellow rose in honor of Mother’s Day. Moved by his kindness and mortified by her own thoughtlessness, she mumbles “thank you” and takes the rose. He smiles and shuffles off to eat his haphazard handout.
Now, I would like to say that we ran after him and offered to share our upmarket bounty – foolishly we did not. However, we did vow to return next Sunday with something to contribute to the free lunch effort.
According to the volunteers passing out food, it is a very informal affair – a few friends bring whatever they can and the men show up around 1:30pm on Sunday afternoon to receive it.
If you would like to help, bring a dish to feed approx 20-30 to the south end of Case Park (10th & Jefferson, KC, MO) Sundays between 1:00-1:30 and someone should be there to pass it out.
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