23
" WILL WORK FOR FOOD © 2013 Lyrics & Music by Michele Jennae
There he was with a cardboard sign,
Will Work For Food
Saw him on the roadside,
As I took my kids to school
I really didn’t have time to stop,
Already running late
Found myself pulling over,
Into the hands of fate
The look in his eyes was empty,
But he held out his hand
I knew my kids were watching,
As I gave him all I had
My heart in my throat I had to ask,
“What brought you here?”
He looked up and straight into my eyes,
I wanted to disappear.
CHORUS
He said… Do you think I really saw myself,
Standing in this light
Forgotten by society,
After fighting for your rights
WILL WORK FOR FOOD,
WILL DIE FOR YOU
I AM JUST A FORGOTTEN SOLDIER,
I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO
v. 2 He put the money in his pocket,
Then he took me by the hand
Thank you dear for stopping by,
I am sure that you have plans
He nodded toward my children,
Watching from afar
It’s time they were off to school,
You should get in the car
My eyes welled up and tears fell down,
I couldn’t say a word
Here this man with nothing to his name,
Showing me his concern
I knew then that the lesson,
That today must be taught
Wouldn’t come from textbooks,
And it could not be bought
CHORUS
He said… Do you think I really saw myself,
Standing in this light Forgotten by society,
After fighting for your rights
WILL WORK FOR FOOD,
WILL DIE FOR YOU
I AM JUST A FORGOTTEN SOLDIER,
I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO
v. 3 I told him then that I had a job,
That I could give him work
And in return he’d have a meal,
And something to quench his thirst
He looked at me and shrugged a bit,
And followed me to the car
We went right over to a little café,
Just up the road not too far
After I ordered our food he looked at me,
And asked about the kids
“Shouldn’t these tykes be in school,
And about that job you said.”
“Your job,” I said, “is to school my girls,
In the ways of the world
Explain to them your service,
And how your life unfurled.”
He said… Do you think I really saw myself,
Standing in this light
Forgotten by society,
After fighting for your rights
WILL WORK FOR FOOD,
WILL DIE FOR YOU
I AM JUST A FORGOTTEN SOLDIER,
I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO
v. 4He wasn’t sure quite what to do,
As he ate his food
And began to tell us all about his life…
the bad… the good.
He wiped his own tears from his eyes,
His story all but done
My girls and I all choked up,
Hugged him one by one
Understanding his sacrifice,
But not his current plight
We resolved then and there that day,
That for him, we would fight.
We offered him our friendship,
And anything else we had
He wasn’t sure how to accept it,
But we made him understand
LAST CHORUS
That we had not really seen before,
Him standing in the light
No longer forgotten by us,
We are now fighting for his rights
He had… WORKED FOR FOOD
HE HAD ALL BUT DIED FOR ME AND YOU
NOT FORGOTTEN ANYMORE
BUT STILL A SOLDIER IN TRUST "
― Michele Jennae
28
" Well, my dear sisters, the gospel is the good news that can free us from guilt. We know that Jesus experienced the totality of mortal existence in Gethsemane. It's our faith that he experienced everything- absolutely everything. Sometimes we don't think through the implications of that belief. We talk in great generalities about the sins of all humankind, about the suffering of the entire human family. But we don't experience pain in generalities. We experience it individually. That means he knows what it felt like when your mother died of cancer- how it was for your mother, how it still is for you. He knows what it felt like to lose the student body election. He knows that moment when the brakes locked and the car started to skid. He experienced the slave ship sailing from Ghana toward Virginia. He experienced the gas chambers at Dachau. He experienced Napalm in Vietnam. He knows about drug addiction and alcoholism.Let me go further. There is nothing you have experienced as a woman that he does not also know and recognize. On a profound level, he understands the hunger to hold your baby that sustains you through pregnancy. He understands both the physical pain of giving birth and the immense joy. He knows about PMS and cramps and menopause. He understands about rape and infertility and abortion. His last recorded words to his disciples were, " And, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world." (Matthew 28:20) He understands your mother-pain when your five-year-old leaves for kindergarten, when a bully picks on your fifth-grader, when your daughter calls to say that the new baby has Down syndrome. He knows your mother-rage when a trusted babysitter sexually abuses your two-year-old, when someone gives your thirteen-year-old drugs, when someone seduces your seventeen-year-old. He knows the pain you live with when you come home to a quiet apartment where the only children are visitors, when you hear that your former husband and his new wife were sealed in the temple last week, when your fiftieth wedding anniversary rolls around and your husband has been dead for two years. He knows all that. He's been there. He's been lower than all that. He's not waiting for us to be perfect. Perfect people don't need a Savior. He came to save his people in their imperfections. He is the Lord of the living, and the living make mistakes. He's not embarrassed by us, angry at us, or shocked. He wants us in our brokenness, in our unhappiness, in our guilt and our grief.You know that people who live above a certain latitude and experience very long winter nights can become depressed and even suicidal, because something in our bodies requires whole spectrum light for a certain number of hours a day. Our spiritual requirement for light is just as desperate and as deep as our physical need for light. Jesus is the light of the world. We know that this world is a dark place sometimes, but we need not walk in darkness. The people who sit in darkness have seen a great light, and the people who walk in darkness can have a bright companion. We need him, and He is ready to come to us, if we'll open the door and let him. "
32
" Then Wanda proposed a health. " Health to abandoned wives!" she said. " Well now," I said. " 'Abandoned,' that's a little strong." " Pushed out, jettisoned, abjured, thrown away," she said. " I remember," I said, " a degree of mutuality, in our parting." " And when guests came," she said, " you always made me sit in the kitchen." " I thought you liked it in the kitchen," I said. " You were forever telling me to get out of the bloody kitchen." " And when my overbite required correction," she said, " you would not pay for the apparatus." " Seven years of sitting by the window with your thumb in your mouth," I said. " What did you expect?" " And when I needed a new frock," she said, " you hid the Master Charge." " There was nothing wrong with the old one," I said, " that a few well-placed patches couldn't have fixed." " And when we were invited to the Argentine Embassy," she said, " you made me drive the car in a chauffeur's cap, and park the car, and stand about with the other drivers outside while you chatted up the Ambassador." " You know no Spanish," I pointed out. " It was not the happiest of marriages," she said, " all in all." " There has been a sixty percent increase in single-person households in the last ten years, according to the Bureau of the Census," I told her. " Perhaps we are part of a trend. "
