‘Tis the season to be good
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Sean of the South
The lunch lady noticed him, sitting in the corner. He always ate by himself in the cafeteria. He never interacted with the other students. There were holes in his shoes.
The older woman approached his table. She knew her presence embarrassed him. She knew he didn’t want the attention.
But hey, sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do.
He was skinny. And in bad need of a haircut. The boy had body odor, too.
“Is this seat taken?” she asked.
He just looked at her.
“Well?” she said. “Is it?”
Without asking, she took a seat. She ate her own lunch beside him. It is a little known fact that lunch ladies actually eat lunch, too.
It didn’t take long before she became his friend. They sat together every lunch period. The other kids poked fun at him for eating lunch with an elderly woman. But then, his fellow students could often behave like turds.
She learned a lot about him that year. She learned that he lived in a broken home. His dad left when he was a baby. His mother had bad habits that occasionally landed her in legal custody. Oftentimes he didn’t have enough food at home.
“What did you have for supper last night?” the lunch lady once asked him.
“I didn’t,” he replied.
That year, on Christmas Eve, the lunch lady had an idea. She got the others in the school kitchen involved. Then she got her church friends involved. It was a covert operation. Hush hush.
One night, under the cover of darkness, a group of older women – dressed in dark colors – crept up to the boy’s home. On his doorstep, they placed a battalion of foil-covered casseroles, with Post-It-note cooking instructions attached.
There were sacks of homemade Christmas candy. Peppermint bark, Christmas-tree cookies, gingerbread, salted nut-butter cups, taffy. There were groceries. There were bags of Old Navy clothes.
One of the women rang the doorbell, then high-tailed it off the porch. You should’ve seen how quickly that elderly woman moved. She does Pilates.
The young man opened the door. It took the kid a few seconds to realize what he was seeing. He peeked into the casserole pans; he sampled some of the candy. It took him 10 minutes just to carry all the food inside.
But the deliveries didn’t stop at Christmas. They continued throughout the year. The team of women made grocery deliveries every Wednesday. Always anonymously.
Over the years, they have added more names to their delivery list. Today, they currently deliver to 28 homes in their community.
They say they do not want donations. Nor do they want attention. In fact, they would freak out if they knew I was writing this.
But hey. Sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do.
