Homeless: Please Help

A story.

You walk by a woman squatted on the sidewalk on the corner of a busy street. She holds her hand out and mumbles something. You continue on as if you never heard her. You convince yourself that she was probably talking to someone else anyway.

You walk a block and come to the next corner. There are cars crossing from both directions so you have to wait before you can cross. A skinny man with hair down to his shoulders approaches you. It looks as if his hair was blonde at one point but has since been turned a dirt color from his many nights with no place to shower. He looks as if when he smiles, pain shoots from his neck down to his feet. His left leg drags slightly as he walks. To your relief, the light changes before he gets within speaking distance and you quickly cross the street.

Two blocks pass and you walk only past a couple that looks like they had one too many drinks and a man who appears in his 30’s, equally in thought as you are. Who could know if his mind was spinning with the same thoughts or if he had just been stood up by a girl.

You turn the corner and see your destination. A door on the other side of the street, 3 blocks away. You know if you make it to this door, you can walk up the stairs to your bed and be safe from the world outside.

You continue walking. Subconsciously picking up your speed. It’s then that you approach an unavoidable conversation.

A stout black woman holds her arm in front of you crying, saying that her kids were taken away and that she moved here to start fresh again and just needs some food for the night. She begs for any money you might have.

Not sure whether you’re enabling a drug addict, you give her $6. A $5 and a $1. The last bit of cash in your wallet. She cries and thanks you saying that this will provide three meals for her. You still feel a weight. As though maybe you did the wrong thing giving money to someone who you have no idea how they’ll use it.

You tell her you’re welcome and quickly close the distance between you and your destination. You start crossing the street toward your door and see several men near it. They looked too trashy to be bar goers, but too nice to be homeless. Maybe bouncers.

You unlock the door, slip in and close the lock behind yourself. You thank the Lord for another evening out and begin making your way upstairs. You take the few short steps to the entrance to your room and unlock that door. You walk in and shut it. At last, relief hits you.

And just as soon as I feel the relief hit me I hear a scream from down the stairs and outside. It’s at that exact moment that I realize the literal millions of people who spend every night outside not knowing where their next meal will come from. Not knowing if they’ll be safe for the night. Not having a place to lock the door behind them and feel the relief come and anxiety go.

My heart breaks for those in these places. Whether self-inflicted or out of their control, these are human souls made by God. It may seem almost impossible to fathom, but they were made by the same creator as you and me, and they are fearfully and wonderfully made.

It’s my job to help them, along with every other Christian in the area.

It’s time to show these people that the light of Christ is unlike the empty gifts they often get.

I don’t know my next course of action yet, but I know that I have plenty to help with and it starts by starting.