“You mean we drove all the way down here for nothing?” the couple asked. I was in the volunteer check-in line for the annual Thanksgiving dinner hosted by the Salvation Army in Tucson.

The man and woman in front of me were clearly annoyed. They were told that, because of a glitch in the computer system, if they hadn’t received confirmation when they registered online, then their names weren’t recorded. And now the volunteer positions were filled. But if they came back at noon, maybe they could help with clean-up. The volunteer coordinator was apologetic as the irritated couple turned away, muttering to themselves.

My First Thanksgiving Alone

When it was my turn, I admitted I was one of the registered-but-not-registered volunteers because I also didn’t receive online confirmation, but I was good at clean-up, and my husband died of cancer, and I’m visiting from Oregon and all alone, and I used to facilitate events at the cancer center where I was on staff, which means I understand computer glitches in registration systems, and I’m sorry she has to face perturbed people like the couple that just walked away. And then I came up for air, fully expecting to be told to come back later.

“Would you like to serve coffee to the people in line?” asked the volunteer coordinator.

“Seriously?!” I responded in disbelief. “You would let me do that?!”

“Yeah, because you were nice.” And that’s how it came about that I got to serve coffee and bottled water to a line-up of people that eventually snaked across the large parking lot, around the corner, and down the sidewalk.

Volunteering with Salvation Army

The organization of this annual celebration dinner is incredible. There were greeters and seaters. Beverage pourers. Servers and pumpkin pie embellishers. The cooks arrived at 4 a.m. and the clean-up crew would be there late into the afternoon.

Tables were set up in several places—the main dining hall, the entryway, on the back porch, and in a covered patio area where there were craft projects for children as they waited for the holiday feast.

When folks left after eating their fill, the tables were sanitized, clean placemats were arranged, and new guests sat down. On the way out, everyone was encouraged to shop for Christmas gifts in an improvised toy-and-book store. For free. This Tucson Salvation Army team knows how to throw a dinner party.

The Apostle Paul wrote a letter to new believers in ancient Colossae, and his letter included this admonition:

“And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him” (Colossians 3:17).

We are the hands and feet of Jesus on this temporary earth. We are the ones he wants to use to spend love on behalf of the poverty-stricken, the excluded, the abandoned, the fatherless, the immigrant, the hungry, the homeless, the abused.

At the end of my volunteer day, I was exhausted. But it was a crazy good kind of exhaustion.

Called to Be the Hands and Feet

With a full heart, I was humbled by the hundreds of people who were served that day. Those with homes in poor neighborhoods, and the homeless. Those with minimum-wage jobs, and the jobless. Those who hadn’t bathed in a while, and entire families with sparkling children. American-born and immigrants. The addicted, the discarded, the mentally unstable. Most of them in a hard place, but all beautiful people, so very loved by God, pursued by God, wanted by God.

And I—alone in town with no family on Thanksgiving (unless you count my grand-dog), having lost my husband and financial cushion against retirement—was given an unexpected gift of grace. I was compelled to look away from my own lack to the larger needs and sufferings of these beloved children of God. It was a startling gift to be the smiling, friendly coffee-server and water-distributor representing Jesus on this sunny Thanksgiving Day in a land called Arizona.

Author and speaker Bob Goff wrote something that gives me pause for thought: “Jesus doesn’t need our help with the hungry or thirsty or sick or strange or naked or people in jails. I know this because I asked him. He wants our hearts. He lets us participate, if we’re willing, so we’ll learn more about how he feels about us and how he feels about the people we may have been avoiding.”

God lets me participate. And what an honor to be designated as the hands and feet of Jesus. As the server of coffee and water, chatting with the people in line, running back to the dining room for any special orders.

Earlier that Thanksgiving morning, my daughter had texted from New Jersey: “I hope you have an unexpectedly fun day today.”

Thanksgiving that year will go down as one of the most unexpectedly fun Thanksgivings ever. Although I didn’t eat the food, it was an unanticipated day of feasting. On this Thanksgiving in which I was not surrounded by family… I was indeed surrounded by family.

(Photo By: Kaboompics.com)

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There’s indescribable beauty in serving others, and this can best be seen in the story of Easter. Its message is timeless and commensurate with where our hearts should be during the holiday season: Is Easter the Ultimate Call to Action? – 237