behind the piercing eyes of starvation

today was a great day. after the usual class and work out i went into athens with a group of about ten to work at the soup kitchen for the homeleess. my heard broke. as i walked in there were at least a hundred people crowded in a small room. i made my way up the next set of stairs to the area where the actual kitchen was. here, we were given instructions and put into different groups. i worked with tills and em and a few other people i was not yet aquainted to. we made our way down a winding rickety staircase, that was part of a backstage theatre type and started the night. i was to take bowls of soup and give them to the the hands that belonged to the piercing, starving eyes. i wish my words could fully illuminate the emotions wihthin. these people were longing for foood, and enjoyed the comfort of a warm building. for me, this was any other day, just a day where i could reach out and serve. but for them, this was the one day of the week they were guaranteed one meal. i had just come from the busy streets of athens and had indulged in a few different types of crescents, like it was no big deal. it made me feel so selfish. the only difference between me and the starving people is where i was born. what family i was born into, and the opportunities that arose since my birht. and you can tell who is really starving. some poeple were scraping their bowls with their slice of braed, yearning for it to fullfill. i will never forget the sight of a young man helping a child eat. they were a few of the last ones there, and the poor little child started crying because they had to elave. fortunately the cups were plastic, so the elder poured the remaining soup into the bowl and then picked up the child to leave. he seemed a little embarrassed as he did this, but it was the only way for him to feed this kid. my heart just reachees out for these people, and makes me want to help. annnnnd all im doing is handing them soup. the night went on, and a count of over three hundred people came through the soup kitchen. OVER 300 poeople who were in need of food. wow. there was another lady there, who only spoke greek. i had a translater nearby and i got her name. it was shamime. she had a few children and she wanted me to hold them so that she could take a picture. im nto really sure why, but she was so excited. i wish i could have carried a converstaion with her, she could not have been much older that i am. sometimes i just wish i could hear peoples stories. behind each face, there is something deeper, something more than just a few words. a life, and the journey it has carried.