Life in the rescue mission continues to evolve in a way it is supposed to, for what ever reason, and while that makes no sense, it does.
In 2015, my team fed 89,157 meals. This year, I have seen significant increase.
Significant increase in dinner guests and donations. Statistically, I am tracking an average of 400-700 additional meals per month served versus last year.
Significance in food donations. Somehow, I have managed to be the donation of choice for people and businesses to give to. I make it easy. My rescue mission is now overflowing in donations, so much that I keep what I want and call other meal sites/food pantry agencies who literally bring trucks and we pass off hundreds of pounds of food a couple times per week.
I am under budget in an all-time low since the mission opened almost 10 years ago for cost of meal per person. Calculations are based on number of people served on what I have to spend for extra items not donated. That number was climbing before I came and averaged $.48 per meal. I have it continually decreasing and now averaging $.27 per meal.
Being the only staff member present when a meal is served, plus being single, I have secured a police officer that swings by every evening on his patrol route for a police presence with a population who does not respect boundaries. Officer Watkins and I have become good friends. He makes our mission a priority on his route.
Yesterday evening he needed to charge his phone, so I gave him the key to my car to get my charger. Getting in my car, the guys asked him what he was doing. The shelter residents keep an eye on me, I feed them and am good to to them. Office Watkins was questioned as to why he was getting into my car and I thought that was funny! He had to answer. Well, he didn't, but he assured them all was fine.
Sitting in my office, I heard three of the residents, early 30's, start yelling. They are all good guys, never a problem, and the one was clearly really upset over something. As guys do, they took it outside. Not to fight, but for fresh air and away from everyone else since it was quiet inside.
I'm putting up posts on the bulletin board, when the realization hit me, I don't let my girls argue at home, I am not letting these boys argue here. So, I go outside and ask them if they've worked it out. They were all smiles and assured me all was well. Dust settles quickly with guys.
It wasn't my place to intervene in their situation, but I did explain I don't let my girls fight at home and I am not letting you boys fight here. There is something about those boundaries they love. There is comfort in knowing someone cares about each of them.
At the mission, I am a mom, a friend, the law, a nurse, a boss, a boundary definer, a spiritual leader, an advocate, a community liaison, a financial officer, and the list goes on. My hats change on a moments notice.
With over 300+ workers/volunteers per month coming through my kitchen to serve, working with the courts, transitioning shelter residents, workers/volunteers, dinner guests, the mission is growing to a new level. It is actually getting easier now that I understand all these dynamics.
I am in my groove and multi-task at levels that makes myself dizzy at times.
I've got this though.
