A Good Deed Is Never Lost

Some years ago I was on kitchen duty at a men’s retreat weekend. The setting was rustic and the kitchen primitive. We made meals using a few available utensils and a couple of propane rings to cook on. Other team members were enjoying interacting with the men, and I was struggling just to make a pot of oatmeal, a vat of spaghetti, or something that resembled coffee. I found myself getting angrier and angrier as the weekend went on. A friend who was on the team walked into the kitchen late Saturday afternoon and said, “Come with me. We need to get something from town.” I figured we were off to get more kitchen supplies, so I grumblingly left with him, glad, at least, for the short break from the sweltering kitchen. We went into town and my friend pulled into an A&W drive-in. He said, “You look like you could use a root beer float.” I didn’t argue. We sat in the shade enjoying our drinks. I calmed down enough to see how well the weekend was going for the men we were there to serve. I was able to hear the thanks my friend offered for tackling kitchen detail for 60 men. I found new strength to get back to the work with energy and even a smidgen of joy. And gratitude began to flow like a stream in my heart again. Sometimes it’s doesn’t take much to help a blind man see and for streams to flow forth in the desert.