My Brother's Table

Last Friday night (while we were still in Boston), we served dinner at a soup kitchen called My Brother's Table. As far as preparing and serving the meal and interacting with guests, that was pretty "normal"; but what followed was a first for all of us: a memorial service for Jose.

Jose's home was on the streets of Lynn. He had died two weeks earlier of a possible health condition/drug overdose. Jose frequented My Brother's Table quite often and it was appearant that his death affected the individuals he had come in contact with. I was honored to have been part of this occasion. It was humbling to watch grown men stand up in front of their peers and openly display their brokeness and sorrow at the loss of a beloved member of their community. A community that is often forgotten, ignored or shunned.

For me, this momorial honored the countless "homeless" men, women and children who have died - those who have been forgotten, ignored, shunned or deemed unfit for society. Though hundreds of these individuals may have been considered outcasts, I dare to believe that they were embraced, loved and rememberd by a community similiar to the one I had witnessed. A community of love and respect where they daily gather around "Their Brother's Table" and share not only a meal, but thier joys, fears, struggles and tears.

Stephanie