The first time we saw this man, short and stocky, he was reduced to tears at the fact we were there, and had food, etc. to give. He stood in front of me, with his hands on my shoulders, tearing streaming down his face, making fierce eye contact, saying over and over "Someone DOES care, someone DOES care!"
I softly replied, "Yes, we do care." He leaned towards me for a gentle hug, murmuring "Thank you Lord, you sent someone who does care", while the tears flooded his face and chest. He trembled and softly whimpered like a scared child. I hugged him or let him hug me, not sure which, and patted his back until his sobs subsided. Then I stepped back and looked into his eyes, he was hiccuping a bit, again like a child who has just cried his heart out, eyes brightly shining from the grateful tears, but a slight smile on his face. He clutched the bag of food to his chest, still trembling. I gave him another quick hug and said that we would be back......and we do care. Last night, we saw him again. He did not cry, but his face was shining with gratitude that we came back. He seemed a little overwhelmed at the fact that we also had new, clean socks and underwear to offer last night. Overwhelmed, but oh, so grateful.
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I turned my head an saw a tall black man wearing a long overcoat cross South Street, coming toward us. He walked with a strange gait, shuffling through the sloppy street. He looked at me with a great sadness in his eyes. “Do you have any shoes?” he asked. “What size do you wear?” I replied. “Thirteen.” Just that afternoon someone had donated a pair of size thirteen work boots. I looked down at his feet. He was wearing a pair of old size ten wing-tips. His heels stuck out behind his shoes. His feet were drenched in the sleet. I opened the back door of the truck and pulled out the boots. “Will these work?” He nodded and looked at his blue numb hands and asked, “Can you help me with them?” We walked around to the back of the truck. I knelt down and slipped off one shoe, put on a dry sock and one of the boots. It fit perfectly. As I was lacing up the boot, I heard him mumbling, “Thank You Jesus, Thank You Jesus, Thank You Jesus.” After getting him into the other boot, I took him back to Steve to get a hot cup of soup. Looking back I can’t recall what happened to the old pair of shoes he was wearing. I’m not sure we ever saw that man before, or ever again. I am sure, however, that night, God was watching over that man and the one who had donated those boots. It’s in those moments that we also feel His presence as He allows us to be His hands and feet. We had seen Pedro before. On our first encounter, he was famished and ate three sandwiches.
Tonight he was cheerful. Someone had donated a Pacer jacket that fit him perfectly. After eating, Pedro came up to us and thanked us in his broken English. He looked at Karen and asked, "Will you pray with me?" We gathered together in a circle and held hands. Pedro began to pray asking the Lord to watch over and protect the family he had left behind. We closed with the Our Father. He hugged and thanked each of us. "My birthday is June 21st. I'll be 61 years old," were some of the first words I heard from the man lying under the bridge on a freezing cold night several months ago. He was unable to walk due to an accident years before. He was lying on a piece of cardboard, shivering.
Someone gave us large pieces of thick foam, and we made him a bed out of it. One of our members carefully lifted him up while we placed the 'bed' under him. We gave him a pillow, covered him with blankets, topped off with shower curtain liners--to help keep him dry and to preserve what little body heat he had. "I don't want to die under this bridge," was something he said frequently. We trudged up the hill with hot soup for him, water, sandwiches, hot coffee. He was ever so grateful but a little dumbfounded by this group of people who appeared, rain or shine or freezing cold, with comforts to offer, asking no questions. A HOME FOR THE HOMELESS
You may have not known them personally, Or even seen them on the streets at all… To you, they were just strangers, Leaning or sitting up against a wall. They may not have held a cup in their hand, Or had on dirty clothes…. Even though they were homeless, They were too proud to let it show. Yes, they were homeless, They had lost all that they had owned… But, most importantly of all They no longer had their homes. They did not cry or weep, Or feel any type of fear… Because they knew that God knew, That they were dying here. Now that their days are numbered, They are slowly losing ground, They won’t have to worry or wonder, Where they will be next time around. For God is calling them home, And they are more than glad to go… Because while living here on earth, God has always let them know… That in his house there are many Mansions, They know he has one for them.. Even though they were homeless, Now they will be living there with HIM. You may have not known them personally, Or even seen them on the streets at all… To you they were only strangers, Leaning or sitting up against a wall. Written by: Patricia Chandler, 2009 Printed with permission of Patricia Chandler, December 21, 2009. Patricia was homeless and with the help of numerous people and agencies is working and in a home of her own. She is a Coalition for Homeless Intervention and Prevention (CHIP) council member and an advocate for the homeless. Patricia read her poem at the National Memorial Service for the Homeless at Christ Church Cathedral in Indianapolis, December 21, 2009. |