Homeless

Homeless. The title comes with a stigma attached; a stereotype comes to everyone's mind. Roll the eyes. Call them lazy. Throw a dollar in their face. Classy.
Behind the scenes? A far cry from lazy. A long way from just pretending they are in need of money for drugs. They are people. People struggling to survive until morning. People who are forced to live out in the flooded boondocks because they aren't accepted somewhere else. Cold. Exposed. Today? A group of us ventured out to their camps to provide food, water, and a little prayer for the discouraged. We gave out fifty bags of food and a countless amount of ponchos for this insane storm. We were greeted with faces of relief, they won't go hungry today. Today they'll stay dry from the rain. The women? They get to add a little glamour to their outfits with a homemade bracelet or two.
I'm not one to jump in with a prayer or start up a conversation, so I just observe. These people have nothing. They have a tarp, maybe a cart that they've found somewhere, a home they've created by what they have found. They're kind. Their eyes telling me a sad story as I hand them a bag of food, grateful for the crackers and water inside. And here I am. Wearing $160 shoes. $120 jeans... Complaining. It's wet, dirty, and my arms hurt from carrying the bags; the bags of FOOD that we are giving to these hungry people. I'm stressed about my 30 minute commute with a family who cares about me, and here they are, no cars, no home, no family, cold, wet.
Selfish. That's all I can think about myself. God softens my terrified heart for these people whom I once feared. People I feared because of the stereotype. I have compassion. Show them My Love. And then I'm being nudged forward to lay a hand on a man as we pray. I pray silently. I reached out and touched his shoulder. A step.
This man? His name is Joey. He used to be homeless. He went out yesterday to relax and read a book. As he went to get up an leave, he couldn't walk. He quickly lost his balance and fell. He lands on his hip because his feet are completely numb and unstable. When we found him, he had crawled a quarter of a mile on rocks. He was forced to sleep outside in the storm with no cover because he couldn't get to a road or find people. He had been there since Thursday afternoon. We prayed for Joey and put him into one of our trucks to take him to the hospital. In the travel process, we discovered that he relapsed (yesterday) from 5 or 6 months of being clean and sober. As soon as he admits to having a beer people are telling him it's okay, no judgment, and offering to bring him to Celebrate Recovery. He feels the compassion; I can hear the change in his voice, the determination to find himself again.
I'm encouraged. God used this man, who has a completely different story than I do, to encourage me.
Find yourself. Stay strong. Do not worry. You are not alone. I've learned to be thankful for what I have. Not to stress about the little things. People have it so much worse than I do. Look for and discover the truth. Most important, do it all with God.

For I, the LORD your God, hold your right hand and say to you: Do not fear, I will help you.
Isaiah 41:13