Mission of My Soul

Left to right: Me, former Tent City resident
Lisa, and Linda of "Be the Change"

Linda and I waited at Boston Market as the meals were being prepared, mapping out a route between local motels and other locations where former residents of Lakewood's Tent City were being housed.

"What's the deal with ten people living in the woods?"

"I heard four or five. They're in tents over by the intersection. Did anyone find out about the new couple?"

"Joan's meeting up with them later. Bringing them food and sleeping bags."

Shortly thereafter, we were joined by Dr. Norma and several members of Be the Change. They loaded the still-warm meals into their truck. Our first stop would be the Capital Motel.

With only scant information on the people housed there, we tried to locate the lobby. The hallways were dimly lit; mezuzahs were affixed to the door frames of each room. Linda approached a man in a yarmulke with the names of residents. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to locate them. We agreed to return in the evening.

Our next stop was the Grand Motel, which was just up the road. We were fortunate to see Nancy, also a former Tent City resident, serving as the manager. She was able to help us get a headcount, set up a table, and find the folks we were seeking. As I was about to turn and lend a hand unloading the food, I saw a woman come down the stairs, and I recognized her immediately: Frances, the first Tent City resident I'd ever met. Before long, others joined her; we filled the table with the meals, water bottles, and utensils.

Motel manager Nancy assists with a headcount
of residents who will receive hot meals.

Next was a brief drop-off at Lakewood Town Square, followed by a stop in Brick. Finally, just as it was beginning to get dark, we reached an apartment complex in Jackson. Irene and her husband Rob greeted us warmly, and directed us to each unit.

Two of the men were just arriving home from work, and as we handed them their meals, they talked about one of their neighbors who had taken a sick day. As if on cue, he emerged from his apartment, and I recognized him as another former resident named Chris. We talked for a bit, and I learned he received a grant to study in Puetro Rico. We visited another couple, Lisa and Will, and then parted ways soon after.

On my way home, as the air grew noticeably colder, I thought about how wonderful it had been to see everyone. It was comforting to know they had a roof over their heads, and they had food in their bellies; some had jobs and new opportunities. But something still felt off. Perhaps it was seeing them outside the context of the community that gave me pause. Or maybe it was the thought of the "new couple" Linda and Joan had mentioned earlier that afternoon, who were homeless and scared with nowhere to sleep and only the clothes on their backs.

My family asked me how things went, and I replied that it was good to see everyone, but I was feeling tired and therefore would be getting take-out for dinner. One of my kids asked, in typical childlike fashion, "if you're so tired, how come you do it?"

I thought on that for a moment. There were many reasons, of course. Because while it's about providing food to the hungry in a physical way, it's also about feeding a different sort of hunger - one that I think lives in all of us. Because everyone, regardless of circumstances, deserves to know that they're thought of and cared for. It's about the fact that even though the powers that be in the township of their former community treated them as "out of sight, out of mind," they still matter.

That was my answer to him. "Because, those people matter."

He was satisfied with that, and went back to his toys and badgering his brother and other kid business.

But, since in that simple question he reminded me of why I do what I do, I was glad he asked.