We, as a human race, don’t always think of one another and only think of our own situations. How many times have we gone through struggles in life feeling sorry for ourselves only to find out there are other people around us that are faring even worse? And when this does happen, how many times are we secretly thankful that their situation wasn’t ours?

Over the years, I’ve grown a heart for others. I guess you can say that I am sympathetic to those less fortunate. I want for others what I feel God has blessed me and my family with. And I’m not talking about cars or fancy vacations or any of that mumbo jumbo. I’m talking about basic necessities such as, oh I don’t know, a hot meal and clean clothes.

Before I got into the culinary world, I had my eyes set on the Corporate World. I went to college and double majored in Business Management and Marketing with a minor in French. I figured by the time I was done, I’d have the world in my hands and maybe make history along the way. It was this confidence that not only helped me through my college years, but it also got me into trouble at times, too.

During one particular time, I had a momentary lapse in judgment and found myself doing community service during my early college years. Because of my ill decision-making, I was assigned to perform community service hours at two places. One place was rather odd, where all I had to do was babysit some old pictures in an even older, slightly run-down building. The other place, however, was a local charity that housed both a soup kitchen and clothing shelter. Having never been in a place like this, I had no idea what to expect.

My first day at the soup kitchen was something I wouldn’t soon forget. This kitchen provided dinners Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Lunch was provided on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The kitchen was closed on the weekends. Meals at the kitchen were made from “salvaged” ingredients. Basically, this meant that although the ingredients were still edible, they had reached their expiration date and could no longer be sold in the stores. By using these salvaged ingredients, soup kitchens such as this one were able to provide “fresh” produce and meats, thus providing healthier meals for their guests.

I guess what really stood out to me was not particularly the food that was served or the concept of salvaged ingredients, but it was the people who came through the soup kitchen. You would think it would be only the homeless individuals. Don’t get me wrong, there were plenty of these folks. In fact, there was one slightly built man who didn’t appear to be much taller than me, but he must have gone through the line three times. Each time he did, he piled the food on his plate just as high as it could go without falling over. I found out that he was a regular and eating at the soup kitchen was the only time he actually ate, so he had to make sure his stomach was full.

The people that really stood out to me, however, were the “normal” people. People like you and me. People who probably have seen better days and are now faring worse than us. It made me realize how vulnerable we really are. How one minute we could be living a great life and the next…that life is gone, for whatever reason. At that point, I felt ashamed. Ashamed for all that I had and all that I had taken for granted. What I didn’t realize that day at the soup kitchen was how my heart would change from that day forward…