So where do we get the food from? Not sure. Can’t read the labels so well. So while the ultimate origins are unknown, I DO know that the last step before our staging area is via a pretty big and well-packed truck.
The aforementioned truck is stuffed, front to back, with hundred pound sacks of foodstuffs and cartons of boxed milk and bottled water. And we have to get it all out of this truck, unfortunately. But there are lots of us. Not that it matters this morning; I’m running on prayer, caffeine, and Advil, and not necessarily in that order. Many, Many trips back and forth to the truck with one of these hundred-pounders on my shoulder have taken their toll. Oh, and did mention the 9,500 feet altitude of our fair city? Huffin’ and puffin’, my friends.
but look up at the picture again. See the gentleman sitting on the pile? He is one of our two helpers / truckers from yesterday. I know it’s hard to tell by looking at the pic., but he MIGHT tip the scales at 140 pounds when soaking wet. Every time he walked back to the truck for a bag, he’d take one on a shoulder and another bag up a little higher, which was also supported somewhat by his head.
That’s two hunnert pounds of groceries, friends and neighbors. Over and over and over and over again. Quickly. Nothin’ but red blood cells and muscle there.
Me? One bag at a time. Groaning. Heaving. Panting. Still recovering.
Nothin’ but a miracle, baby. Keep praying.