Luke House

This free meal site produces good home-​cooked church-​basement food and warm feelings.
You feel like you’re at a potluck but no one expects you to bring anything. Get in line around 5pm and wait.
Try not to pass out from the smell of stale whiskey.
Try not to get a concussion from a suddenly hefted overstuffed backpack. Try to not cry about the ragged mom and her emaciated children.
A concierge directs you to a table set with a big bowl of salad and a basket of sandwich bread.
On my plate is a huge hunk of meatloaf.
Meatloaf is something I never order, never desire, and never think about. But this meatloaf was made by charitable church ladies.
This meatloaf was love-​filled and life-​giving, packing me with beefy hope for the future.
Water and milk were provided.
A teen boy moved erratically about, serving people from a tray precariously stacked with cookies and apples.
The group of us at our cafeteria-​type table seemed beyond etiquette and just grab for the food.
Sometimes the opposite happens: everyone says «thank you» and «you’re welcome,» and «please stop stabbing me with that fork.»
You bus your own dishes, scraping and putting them into the proper dish tub. If you’re especially sentient and compassionate, you thank the kitchen crew.
It was a good meal.
For just a moment, I felt loved and accepted.