Isaiah 58:7
I have participated in a sandwich run before with a volunteer group in UT - GHVAUT - and I have to say, I was a little intimidated at first. Talking to strangers was my fear, and those in high school can testify - quite unfortunate - but still, my eyes were opened. Everyone has their own stories, strangers do too, and one can be opened to a totally different world just by listening. It's truly amazing :) I did have a great time getting to know others in the community, and enjoying time with others as well.
This time, it was a little different. The sandwich run was organized by New Hope Fellowship and it started around dinnertime, as the sun begins to set on a Wednesday evening (27th). With a hopeful heart and a mindset of hearing stories (from previous experience), I set out and we brief and we walk.
Different areas were ventured, and this time, I didn't get to hear stories from the
ones living it, but I saw life. I saw the brokenness of the city, the urgency of seeking, and the need for God's salvation. It was overwhelming. I felt guilty - guilty that I'm living this life, and they are living theirs. I felt disgusting - who am I to feel happy doing something so small like this? What was my mindset coming into this? Why am I doing this?
A memorable time was walking through Seaton Street, with the largest men's shelter and addiction control centre. It was heartbreaking to see. When we went, it was getting dark. The building was barred off, and when we were near, people would come out - a few in the beginning and as they go in and tell others, more so come out and ask for food. We didn't even have enough as it was our last stop to the sandwich run. Ashamed to say, I was hesitant at first. I was scared. Middle aged men coming out one after another, reaching for food, the joy in their eyes - but somehow I see sorrow, emptiness, lost. Who can they turn to? Surely not to each other, it's known as 'satan's house' for a reason - with all the hurt, steal, darkness,
happening inside.
Finally I give, and their soft smiles and sincere thanking crushed me even more. I felt the warmth and I was certainly happy when they were happy. But I'm so unworthy of this, they're not suppose to be thanking me, glory should be given to God - so then, why are they thanking me? It shouldn't be something so special, it should be done all the time.
Walking out of the street was literally like walking towards the light - as the street was very dimly lit, and the end of the street were big lampposts and flashing restaurant signs..it was like stepping into a totally different world. Walking towards the light..how can I even say that, when there are so many left behind? I felt tugs, I had to turn around, but it was dark. Standing at the end of the street, with brightly lit lamps behind me, looking towards where I just came from, was scary. I can't imagine what continues to happen there.
Unfortunately, we didn't have the opportunity to debrief, but I guess this gave me time to digest. It was all in all a great experience. I did enjoy time with brothers and sisters, and walking around, learning more about the community and the city was really great. I gained and learned a lot from this trip - now I am wondering how I can respond and give back what I took out - not only towards those I saw, but to those who don't know - of His love, of this need, of the urgency.
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The Pastel Tres Leches is from Spanish, meaning Three Milk Cake, as it is a sort of half dense/half sponge cake soaked with whole milk, evaporated milk, and condensed milk - topped with a layer of whipped cream, tasting a hint of coffee liqueur. Mucho bueno!!
Ingredients
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