A Gift of Hope: Helping the Homeless Read Online Free PDF Page A

struggling into the jacket, and then unrolling the sleeping bag, shaking his head.
    We had no sense of mission then, and I don’t think any of us could have named or labeled it at that point. That came a long time later. Those first nights were “one-night stands,” something we felt led to do, with no thought beyond those moments. We went into some of the rougher parts of town that night but had no sense of danger. People were too cold, too wet, and too miserable to present any threat to us. Later, much later, we learned that although miserable, thecold, hard, wet nights were safest for us. When people are deeply engaged in their own survival, there is rarely a thought of harming others. Sometimes on warmer, easier nights, on the streets there is an almost tangible tension, a sense of people looking for trouble, angry at what is happening to them, which created stressful moments for us too. Longer days in summer months were more dangerous for us, when we could be plainly seen from a great distance by those who were occasionally less well meaning, or preyed on others. We worked best, and in the safest conditions, in darkness and in bad weather. Hard for us, and for the homeless, but less risky for the team.
    But on that second night, there was no danger, just a lot of cold, acutely uncomfortable people. The jackets and sleeping bags helped, but surely not enough. I was discovering at each stop that our showing up brought more than just warm, dry gear, it brought the message that people who didn’t know them and wanted nothing from them cared enough to find them and bring something they needed. Maybe we could have just as easily brought cardboard boxes or orange crates or old galoshes. The idea that someone had come out in the pouring rain, and gave a damn, was a powerful message. The gift we shared that night was one of hope, which was an important theme for us too. If someone could show up unexpectedly and without motive—why couldn’t it happen to us in ourown lives, bringing us what we needed? It was a gift like no other, and I realized then that what was happening was just as important for us as it was for them. Who doesn’t need hope in their lives: hope that something can change, that someone cares, that not only bad things happen unexpectedly but good things can happen to us too?
    At one of our last stops, a huge man, who might have frightened me if I’d been alone on a dark street with him, broke into a smile that was dazzling. He looked into the sky with the most beautiful teeth and grin I’d ever seen, and laughed out loud. “Thank YOU, GOD!” he shouted heavenward, echoing what was in my heart. And of course, he thanked us too, and blessed us as we left.
    Everywhere we went, people asked us where we came from, what church, what group, what organization. The answer was always “nowhere,” that we were just a group of friends who wanted to do this. There was no way to tell them why, we didn’t know ourselves, except for the message I’d heard in church, which sounded weird even to me. (I didn’t tell anyone about that.) The people we handed sleeping bags and jackets to were surprised, and mystified, but also grateful and pleased.
    And this trip, with more jackets, sleeping bags, and people in the van than the first time, our supplies were a mess after a few stops. Socks and gloves were everywhere, sleeping bagsrolled out of the van, fortunately in plastic covers, and the down jackets slid all over the place—having two sizes made sense but made it more confusing. We were constantly shouting to each other, “Socks, I need SOCKS!” “I can’t find the large jackets” “Give me a medium.… a MEDIUM!” for some tiny, shivering woman. It was painfully haphazard, albeit well intentioned, not sloppy so much as chaotic. Eventually we found what we needed, but we were running all over each other, trying to make sure that each person had one of everything, and we ran out of supplies all too quickly. I