As the sun is rising outside and Marvin Gaye is singing his heart out, I look up from my giant pot of grits and realize that I am functioning in sync with 12 residents in a kitchen that is providing meals and love to the people living in the shelter as well as those who come in for food off the street. 

The music we listen to is perfect for working in the kitchen. Marvin Gaye, The Temptations, Aretha Franklin, Ohio Players. All the residents know all the words and we cook and sing and sometimes even dance.  I've wanted the kitchen to become a place where we flow together as a team, working hard and having as much fun as possible in the midst of doing so.  It's a happy place to be.

At first I was apprehensive about trying to lead the kitchen alone.  When I first started at the shelter, I didn't know how I would do it.  I wondered if residents would curse me out or threaten me when I asked them to work for me- if they would resist direction and how I would handle it.  Most of them were middle aged- old enough to be my parents or grandparents.  Many of them had come in from straight off the street.  How was I going to instruct them?  Why would they want to listen to me?  How could I earn their respect? Would I earn it at all?  I was a petite young woman, and I was wondering how I would become a strong leader with authority and instruction to offer these people.

The best way that I know how to describe what the kitchen looks like when I'm there is the movie Babe.  I am Babe the pig, and the residents are the sheep.  Everyone is laughing at me because I am a pig trying to herd sheep, and why would they listen to me?  But I simply ask them nicely to follow my lead, and they thank me for asking nicely, and follow.  I don't have to bite them like a sheep dog or scare them.  I don't have to pretend like I am superior or threaten them with power. I just show them that I love them, respect them, and that I view us all as a team- and they are happy to do anything I ask them.  Amazing.

If I'm being honest, the people who I have had the most conflict with in this job have been the volunteers who come in to serve dinner at night.  Most of them are working professionals- coming in after work still dressed in their business clothes.  As they enter the kitchen, perhaps they have not met "the new cook yet"- and I'm whipping around the kitchen trying to keep things in order as they put on hair nets and aprons.  The male volunteers often look around, wondering where the leader of the kitchen is, looking straight passed me, even though I am the only one dressed in a chef coat.  Often they make jokes, saying "Oh, are you the executive chef?", being sarcastic, not realizing that I am in charge.  I simply look at them and respond "yes", and continue to carry trays of food out of the oven and check to see if the iced tea is made.  It does not make me insecure- just confused and annoyed- because at times I feel belittled and doubted by outsiders, even though the residents who work with me are well aware that I am the leader and we are functioning smoothly and happily as a kitchen staff.

I feel like the residents are my family in a way, and  sometimes I ask them why the volunteers treat me in these ways.  They tell me that the volunteers might be stunned that I am the leader at first, but by the end of their shift, they are always well aware that that is the case.

I am happy when I am working because I am using food as an avenue to serve and love others.  I get to teach and instruct, while learning as well.  Many of the residents are great cooks, and I am always asking them about their personal recipes and what types of foods they love.  I love to spend time with them, and I only work with the ones who want to work with me.  If they do not want to be in the kitchen, I let them go, and request others by name who I know would want to work.  There is no forcing anyone to do anything, and at times I have had to turn away residents who want to volunteer as extra kitchen staff because the kitchen is too full.  I've had my fair share of drama- ladies wanting to work in heals and dresses, men panicking when I ask them to do certain jobs and screaming "I can't cook though!", and sometimes too much dessert disappearing from the cooler.  But more than anything, I have a wonderful staff and I enjoy instructing and engaging with them all.

Maybe I'm just new at the job and have a romantic view of the whole thing, but working as a cook at the mission feels like my calling, and I'm glad that I'm doing it and I will constantly look for ways to do it better.

There's something magical about picking up the kitchen after dinner, singing and sweating, and knowing that we have experienced another successful meal together through our teamwork.  It feels good to work hard physically, as well as to stretch myself emotionally to care for these people.  I sleep well at night, and in a strange way, it's hard to picture myself doing anything else.

One day I watched a man who had come in off the street eat the chicken salad I made for lunch.  He ate quickly and I could tell he was very hungry.  I started crying while I watched him because I realized that what I had prepared was nourishing his body and fulfilling a need, and that he was enjoying it at the same time.  I realized how spiritual that is- to serve others and to fulfill their needs and nourish them in any way that we can.  I remembered that it was more than worth it to work this hard to feed these people.  He asked for more and I gave him seconds, and something inside of me felt alive and broken at the same time as we locked eyes and he thanked me over and over again.