of things I can do to keep the rain off my head. They’ll probably let me sweep out the rectory and polish pews until I find a proper job, but I’m interested in meeting some more basic needs. Like you do. If you’re willing to talk about it...”
She stepped closer to him, her pretty brow wrinkled, her eyes narrowed. “Talk about what?”
“How you found your calling? How you began your food bank? What other work you’ve done? What bureaucracy you battle—”
“God isn’t going to be mad at you for leaving the priesthood, Father. Are you looking for a way to make it right with God?”
“No. As far as I know, we’re good, me and the Boss. It’s what makes my heart beat.”
“Then I will ask you this, Father. Have you ever been really hungry? So hungry that hunger no longer has a feeling? Have you ever fled your own home in the dark of night? Been chased by police? Run out of your house and slept on the cold ground for days? Had no one to help? Begged for food or clothing? Been afraid you would not live another day? Dios! Ach.” She stopped and rubbed the back of her neck. “My apology, Padre, I didn’t mean to unload on you.” Then she continued. “That is how I found my calling—in my anger. I am angry that in a world as plentiful as ours there are hungry children. Isn’t it bad enough that there is disease we can’t conquer? Isn’t it bad enough that no matter how hard we work, there is still poverty?”
He was respectfully silent while she calmed herself. Finally he said, “I’m sorry, Angela. For what you must have endured.”
She jolted in surprise. “Oh no, Father—I wasn’t talking about me! We did all right. We were immigrants and field workers but we had family. It’s the people I’ve come to know. A large number of them are veterans, alone or some with families. If they have issues and can’t hold a job, they get evicted, live in shelters or on the streets or in their cars, if they have a car. And yes, I see quite a few families from south of the border—if they’re undocumented, they can’t get any government help, like food stamps. For some of them the pantry is essential to their survival.
“When the shelves in this warehouse are full, I sleep so well, even though we can’t cure the problem. But there are days I’m so sad. Like the day I sent a woman, a young mother, away with one dented can of cream-style corn. I don’t do this because it’s good. I do it because I’m driven, not always in a good way.”
“I was going to ask you to coffee after the holidays, when our rush is over, but I think we should meet for a drink instead.”
“I would like that. I think we have stories to share. But I’m not going to be here long after the holidays. Mrs. Bennett is going to take over the pantry when I leave. She’s run food banks before and she knows this one.”
“Where are you going?” he asked, instantly sad.
“I’ve been accepted by an international rescue charity. I’ll be in training for months before I find out where I’m going. I offered to go to Syria but they’ll send me to a refugee camp in Greece until I get my sea legs. They can’t afford to have an inexperienced volunteer in a dangerous place.”
“Let’s get one of your volunteers in the warehouse to help us unload and watch for your trucks. Then, let’s take an hour. I have to hear about this! Please!”
“Oh Father, what is that strange light in your eyes?”
Without thinking, he reached for her hand and held it briefly. “I’m not sure where I’m going to land but every day I spend in an office is one day too long.”
“There’s a special job for everyone, Father. In every neighborhood. I know you’re needed there...”
“Of course,” he said. “I’m proud of the work we’ve done at Divine Redeemer. People who aren’t starving are sometimes hungry in other places. We all have needs. But there are a lot of priests standing in line to get that job. I’ve been praying for years for an opportunity to go somewhere very few people are willing to go.”
She looked at him in shock, her mouth hanging open. “I think you already had that drink...”
He laughed. “How dare you make fun of me! Look what you’re planning