More Than Just Tea

On days ending in “y”, the entire workspace for all the ladies at My Cup of Tea is an elaborate waiting room for lunch.  Daily, just before noon, a volunteer arrives with his or her version of an appetizing meal for us all. Throughout each month, thirty women and a couple of men, devoted to our mission, cook or hire good cooks to bring or send fresh offerings of sauce-cloaked, steaming perfections. The work pace dips when the meal-of-the-day transport turns into the parking lot.

Once in place, the My Cup of Tea hostess, whose job is kitchen duty, rings the lunch bell and a synchronized stampede from all directions begins. Once gathered, our benefactor greets us, describes her main course, and then prays for us.  On our best days, she will stay and join us at the table.

Occasionally the menu requires an explanation. Perhaps it is shrimp and grits, which is unfamiliar to one of our newer employees.  Crabmeat Mornay, a favorite for several, is explained to be made with simple ingredients but dressed up a bit. All of us who share our resources with the ladies of Orange Mound are gently elevating and nurturing fresh and beautiful layers of life together.

Quite often, the familiar, wholesome aroma of any version of bread baking in our oven announces, “Come quickly while it is hot.” Exquisite desserts are on a separate table to be admired, and subtly chide all to eat the main course first. 

During the recent scorching heat wave, cold salads like Nina’s chicken pasta salad or Elizabeth’s personal recipe of zesty green beans are recognized and devoured.  The heat never seems to stifle the appetites. We always serve tea, of course.

Several times a month, a meal of KFC or Hop Daddy appears at the door, and all sink into and savor the rare treat of an expensive meal from a fast food restaurant typically saved for payday or a celebration.

Lately, we have sampled cucumber sandwiches, now a favorite, and pimento cheese on pumpernickel bread.  Sourdough muffins have become a weekly extra since Debbie has begun keeping her sourdough starter alive.   

Lettuce from our garden has enhanced some of the offerings, and an abundant harvest of jalapeños from several plants outside has begged for more attention.  One of the volunteers candied them, and several of us have embroidered simple sandwiches with the hot sweet delicacy.

Some of our ladies will request a recipe, more than once or twice, which is a novel way to thank the cook, but no one ever seems to have made it at home.

“What’s for dinner” isn’t a problem for anyone because plenty of leftovers are sealed for carry-home. 

Often, the busy volunteers, who have other “fish to fry,” will request Doris to cater their monthly offering for the 10 or more women who dine daily.  Doris never needs prodding, even when the request is late the night before showtime.  Doris reaches back into her soul food on a budget muscle memory.   Translating rustic elegance with respect, last week, I simply didn’t recognize the tails of pigs nestled in the cabbage.  However, the ladies from Orange Mound knew them well and were delighted.  Doris fries baby chicken wings in her iron skillet and encourages us to chew and swallow the bones.  She garnishes cornbread, which I do recognize, with collard greens and oxtail, when it is available.  She harvests anything still on the vine in our garden boxes across Carnes on the East side of the parking lot.  She has a secret recipe to soften stringy, over-mature okra only fit for a pig trough.

Nothing says a plate of hers is balanced without two carbs, and since all the ladies brag on her mac and cheese, fried potatoes, and grits, two portions must sandwich the biscuits on each lady’s paper plate.

Obviously, The House of Orange Mound must offer more than coaching in home economics and nutrition because white bread soft enough to tear, liver cheese, Spam that tastes like childhood, and Vienna sausages that remind them of simpler times are still at the corner dollar store, affordable, and on the way home.

Though 3028 Carnes is anchored in a food desert, the House stands as an oasis where nourishment extends far beyond what addresses their hunger. Here, in this home, we have a view toward respect and dignity. Every meal prepared carries with it a message that it is brought with a servant’s heart to all here because they are valued and irreplaceable.

We are a sanctuary, and some days a five-star restaurant as well, where the ladies know they matter; they belong to a community that has refined their tastes, supported and loved them, and daily served up a feast to be enjoyed among friends.

September is the time of year when we select an artist to create the artwork for a limited-edition tea we premiere in October. The box and tea are popular items for the holidays and beyond because of the inspiring art we have featured and how the contest strives to support local Black artists.

Last week we convened with our judges. The seven members of the team worked conscientiously and followed a fair and deliberate process that was appropriate for an art contest.

Some of the judges are working artists or have an artistic background, so they could spot the technical mistakes and areas for improvement. They were comfortable assessing the submissions and confident in their choices. They had relevant experience. We will call them the “Technicians.”

Others do not have training in visual arts, nor are they paid in their careers to be creative. These judges were more hesitant to criticize, unsure what was “right” or “wrong” about the art but eventually joined those with the artistic backgrounds to reach consensus. These are the “Novices.”

The remaining judges landed somewhere in the middle. Perhaps they know something about painting or photography; they are collectors of art or hope to be. Nevertheless, they had strong opinions about the submissions, and no problems weighing in on someone else’s creative passion despite a lack of extensive experience. They had a job to do. Let’s call them the “Doers.”

The views of the judges were varied, and all were valid. They chose an accomplished artist with an amazing portfolio whose work will be well-received by customers and the community. The goal, after all, was to choose a winner.

A problem, though, is that the archetypes represented by our tea box art judges (Technicians, Novices, Doers) exist in our daily lives. Rather than contributing to something beautiful, worthwhile, and a benefit to others, these self-appointed adjudicators apply unrealistic standards to the lives of those with whom they come in contact. What is more problematic is that most of us are among one of these categories of judges.

The Technicians have erred in many of the same ways as those around them, but they have overcome or are overcoming, so they are quick to point out our flaws, often without the same level of grace and understanding they were once afforded. Instead, they could offer an ear, a relevant perspective, and if requested, gentle advice.

The Novices approach others in the correct way – cautious and hesitant to be critical. Unfortunately, they are often co-opted by the Technicians and the Doers, rather than giving others the benefit of the doubt. Novices should trust their instincts and remind themselves that there is likely much they do not know about the lives of others.

The Doers may not judge quickly. They want to be seen as wise and experienced, but their judgement can be harsh. Doers may justify the harm caused by their “verdicts” because they believe they are helping others to become “better people.”

When describing the environment at The House, we have often used the term “judgement-free,” and to be sure there is far less judgement within the walls of 3028 Carnes than in many other places. All of us, however, are guilty of judging. Sustaining a judgement-free environment is a conscious choice which requires daily discipline.

Praying together – Orange Mound ladies, volunteers, and sometimes guests – is essential. It diverts our attention away from ourselves and the superficial. Mentors and mentees socializing outside of My Cup of Tea helps us to better understand one another and recognize how we are alike. Sharing a meal daily breaks down barriers and stereotypes.

A Middle Eastern proverb says, “He who shares his food shares his heart,” and in Acts 2: 46-47, in addressing the early Christian Church, Scripture says, “And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people.”

Unlike the tea box art contest, the goal of life is not to identify a single winner. We are not participants in some worldwide version of “The Hunger Games.”

Many of us remember the passage in Scripture where Jesus says, “Judge not that you be not judged.” (Matthew 7:1) Jesus then goes on to discuss the speck in our brother’s eye versus the log in our own. A few verses later, in Matthew 7:12, we receive the “Golden Rule.”

“So, whatever you wish others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets.”

And who of us wishes to be judged?

It’s 901 Day for 1.06 million people who live in the roughly 800 square miles in and around Memphis. This includes a favorite lady who lives in Orange Mound.

Jane (That’s what we’ll call her) didn’t finish middle school. To her, 901 Day means that there are special gift-wrap assignments and more customers than usual as she works at the House in Orange Mound. Her cell phone number starts with the area code 901, but she doesn’t know that 901 is a geographic region.

She fits into the classification called Below Basic Literacy, BBL, which means she lacks the minimal skills needed to perform simple literacy tasks.   Though she has a firm handle on her neighborhood, she cannot read the road signs. Her limited world can be walked in forty-five minutes.

Jane has mastered her daily route to work on foot through eight blocks she knows by heart in Orange Mound. She leaves home every weekday morning at 8:15, passes the Dollar Store just before she reaches Park Avenue.  If she has five dollars and time allows, she stops into Church’s Fried Chicken for two biscuits and a Coke.  She continues to the corner of Park and Semmes and turns north.  She waves at the people who are passing her in their cars, and nods at one or two neighbors who are headed South to the bus stop.  She deftly steps around the countless holes and cracks in the crumbled concrete sidewalk, as if walking on autopilot.

Her mind, however, is deeply occupied in prayer with the collective needs of her children and grandchildren.  Last weekend she housed and fed 15 of the 20 who live in Memphis, in her two-bedroom apartment for three days. A storm and straight-line winds cut through Memphis on August 22nd, disabling thousands of MLGW customers. Her kids’ rentals lost power for four days. She had to miss work on Monday even though she needed the money.

Tuesday, she reached work at 3028 Carnes by 8:45 and left her imaginary backpack of intercessory prayers on the wide front porch.  At 2:00 pm, she gathered them up and reversed her 30-minute walk back home, a little more slowly in the hot and humid Memphis afternoon.

She is in control in the corner of her two-mile-radius world. The package store, work, the loan company, her sister’s “hair salon,” and her brother’s rental are all within her personal area code: 000.

Her little world is deep, not wide.  Scarcity of options makes life a little less complicated when survival is the priority. Her energy goes daily to family, food, and shelter. Poverty and time shrink a person’s map in Memphis, and level the geography to sidewalks, curbs, and busy streets.

Jane can’t easily leave the turf she knows, and as a result, the rest of the city is abstract. Political or civic rallies, voting poll locations, alternate school options, and fully stocked grocery stores are invisible unless someone gives her a ride and she pays for the gas. Resources, recreation opportunities, and shopping centers a few more miles out might feel like a different country, not the city she calls Memphis.

However, Jane is managing her two-mile radius like a dancer knows her marks. Her small world is deep with what matters: family, faith, and the ladies with whom she works.  She has sorted out ways to encourage her coworkers and is often the first to sense their sorrows. She holds her family close, and the Lord holds her even closer.

Jane is content, always at peace and at rest in a noisy world full of distraction. She has distilled what most are trying to find in the vast shallows of our troubled community. She doesn’t need a bigger map because she has, by grace, never been lost in her world. She is the leading lady in a story worthy of reading. She is honored and respected. She is one of our valued and beloved employees at My Cup of Tea.