A short story…

As I near the Sixth Street Homeless Shelter, a cold wind blows, a reminder that winter is coming. Inside, I look around and see most of the Friday regulars and a few new faces. I’ve gotten to know most of their stories over the past few months.

I see we have a couple of new volunteers today. It’s good for them to be here, but they do look uncomfortable. I can’t help wondering what they’re thinking. If you’re not used to seeing the homeless lining up for food, well, it can be a little unsettling.

It’s a good meal being served today: lasagna, salad and bread. The salad dressing runs out, but no one seems to mind. Most are just grateful for a hot meal and a place to get warm.

I watch people eat. Some talk, but many eat in silence, barely lifting their heads. My heart goes out to them. It’s as if they’ve been in a battle with life and life has won. So many look hopeless. I try to encourage as many as I can, but I know I can’t help everyone.

I make eye contact with one of the new people, but she looks away and my heart breaks for her. I wonder what’s going on inside her. Has she done something for which she can’t forgive herself? Was something done to her? Is she struggling with guilt and shame? I want to tell her it’s going to be okay, but I don’t think she’d believe it coming from me.

Why would she? She probably looks at me and thinks we have nothing in common. I’m sure she thinks I couldn’t possibly understand what she’s going through. But I do understand. I know what it’s like to sometimes lose hope or to feel like you can’t be forgiven.

Before leaving, I decide it’s worth taking a risk to reach out. I ask her how I can be praying for her. My question clearly catches her off guard. She was not expecting me to talk to her and doesn’t know what to say. After a moment, with tears filling her eyes, she whispers, “Pray I will know His love.”

I promise her I will and walk outside. It’s colder than when I entered. I linger awhile and talk with some friends. I see the woman I talked with come out another door. She still looks shaken.

I watch as she gets into her Mercedes. As she pulls away, she smiles at me and I see her mouth the words “thank you.” For a moment I’m envious of the warmth inside her car, but remind myself I have everything I need.

I pull my hood tight and pray she’ll experience the Father’s great love for her. I also ask Him to provide a warm place for me to sleep tonight.