Something Different

This May 2015 is my fourth trip to NYC in the last year and a half.  Each time has been different, of course.  Each time has brought a refinement to my life and this work.  This time is no exception.

To recap, I go to NYC to work with the homeless.  Most of this work is done on the street.  However, I do go to the Mission at Lafayette & White.  I also make a point to go to the RHOW Food Pantry and Soup Kitchen.  This time I was working on the street mostly.  Working on the street entails recognizing those moments that God has orchestrated, and walking through them.  Most of the time it is sensing a persons need.  To be honest, most do not approach me asking for money.  I approach them.  They may not even have a cup, or hat.  Those are the best encounters.  I can just tell that they are in need of what I have.  It isn’t necessarily the D & D card that they need.  It is that human touch of a handshake, and those words that say, I care about your existence.  God cares about your existence.  I am razor-focused on the homeless, and spend a great deal of time, if they are willing, encouraging them to press forward and not give up.  They tell me how hard it is.  They share their fears of shelters, or trains or people. 

I was drawn to Times Square a lot on this trip.  On May 18^th, I went to Times Square.  I had a few encounters before running into a man outside of a Starbucks (of course.  Funny thing is that I didn’t go into Starbucks.)  I was interested because he was engaging.   He was asking for donations to help the homeless.  I thought, ‘Wow!  Right up my alley.  Another person working for God to help the homeless.’  He was dressed in white hi-top sneakers, jeans and a nice, clean, white t-shirt and wearing his colorful hat sideways.  His hat matched his personality, colorful.  His first words to me were, while pointing to a statistic on a sheet of paper, “Do you know that there are so many homeless youth just in New York City alone?  That’s why I am here.  I’m here because I need your donation to help them.”  I have to admit, I was drawn into his spiel, and after all we were both there doing the same work, just in a different way.  This was my thinking.  He had a little square lock box that read, “New York City Homeless Outreach,” on the front.  It was propped up on a covered stand, so it stood out.  He opened the box, and I gladly threw in a 5 dollar bill.  Of course, I introduced myself.  I asked if he was homeless.  He said that he wasn’t, but was volunteering his time to do this work.  I thought how noble for this man to give of his time in this way.  I asked him where the Outreach was located.  He said 118^th and something.  I didn’t quite catch it.  He said the expected, God bless you and thank you, and I moved on.

I walked away and felt good about the encounter, but then I came upon 3 men next to a newsstand cart.   They were all in a row, with the same kind of set up.  The same paper, and same lock box but different people.  These men were homeless.  I really didn’t have to ask, but I did anyway.  I didn’t want to assume.

These guys said they were not from the same organization as “John”.  They gave me a quite worn business card.  I asked if they were working for an individual or organization.  They said they worked for the Times Square News.  “They help us.”  What was strange to me was that I had never seen an organization “pimp out” the homeless to get donations.  It appears that that was what was happening.  These man were begging not just for themselves but for a head person who took the money and spread it to others.  I left them and finished my day.

The next day I woke up and prayed about where God wanted me to go.  I again was drawn back to Times Square.  This time I wanted information.  I went to the spot where I thought John would be.  He was in the same vicinity as he had been the day before. 

I approached him with boldness.  I asked, “Where is it, that you said the NYC Homeless Outreach is located?”  He responded, “118^th and 8^th avenue.”  I asked him if he had a business card.  He said he was all out, since he had been there since 5 o’clock that morning.  (My thought was ‘Wow!  This guy is young and dedicated to his cause.’)  I turned around and left.  I hopped back on the train to go uptown.  I got off at 125^th and walked the few blocks down to 118^th and 8^th avenue.  I looked all around that area.  I stopped and asked people if they had heard of it.  No one responded with a yes.  One woman, who was obviously homeless, said that I should check on 116^th street and 8^th.  Of course, I took the time to ask her name and give her encouragement & a D&D card.  Her name is Natalie.  She is confused about religion. 

I walked down to 116^th street.  Yes, there is a Food Pantry and Soup Kitchen there.  I walked in to a very busy reception area, but a man that worked there walked up to me and asked if he could help.  I asked if he had heard of The New York City Homeless Outreach.  His response was negative.  He had never heard of it.

I hopped back on the train to head back to Times Square.  I was a little steamed that I had taken this time to try to find a place that didn’t exist.  This time when I went back to where John was, there was another person who was taking over for him.  I walked up, and began to question John.  He was quick to say that his shift was over.  He pointed to the other guy and said, “He is the manager.”  I thought, “Great! Maybe I can get some answers.”  My first question was, “Where is your organization located?”  He said, “123^rd street and Lenox.”  I told him that was not what John had told me.  He said he didn’t understand why John had said that.  I asked, “If I go to 123^rd and Lenox, what am I going to find?”  He said I would find two churches.  He said the Outreach gives a percentage to two churches that are right across from each other.  I asked what the name of the churches were.  He could not give me the name of the churches.  He could not even spell the name of the churches.  He did make an attempt.

I questioned Marc the manager some more.  Come to find out, Marc and his wife are homeless, and have been for two years.  He talked about getting a voucher to get a place and having to turn down two places because they were in bad areas.  Of course, I gave him a Dunkin Donuts card.  I told him what my thoughts were concerning his management of operations for New York City Homeless Outreach.  He seemed to not know what to say.  I shook his hand and left.

The next day I again returned to the spot.  Again John was there (John is a young guy, who denies being homeless.  He seems to do this as his job,) and another man (I didn’t get his name.)  They were next to a Times Square Newsstand.  I questioned them again.  John was visibly annoyed by my presence.  I asked if they had jobs, because it seemed that John’s volunteerism was more of a job, and not volunteering.  The other guy said he had a job.  He pointed at a building across the street, and said they call him when they need him.   They both knew that they couldn’t convince me that they were legitimate.  Seemingly as a last resort they hauled out a paper they said was their license.  I asked if I could take a picture of it, and did.  They also took out a booklet about the Times Square News.  I took a picture of that too.  They said they were on facebook.

I have thought about this part of my trip a lot over the past few weeks.  This operation is in the heart of a hub in New York City, as many people pass through Times Square in a day.  These people are approached in the same way as I was.  Many do not pay any attention to them and pass by, but many throw in a few bucks.  There were people that gave their leftovers from their dinner to them. 

These men are the equivalent to The Salvation Army bell ringers, seemingly without the organization behind them.  Why is this so different from what the Salvation Army does or any organization that collects money for the homeless?  The difference is that the legitimacy of the organization cannot be substantiated.  While it does have a license to operate, there seems to be discrepancy in where the organization is located.  I say, “Great!” if they are actually helping the homeless.  There just seems to be something “not right” about everything to do with this.

FEAR May 15, 2015

In other blogs I have written about fear.  Fear of people, fear of things.  Fear can be so paralyzing and daunting to the mind.  We can be stunted by its seeming power over us.

I boarded the bus, in Rockland, a bit before 9.  The minute I got on the bus, I became nauseous.  Literally, the minute I got on the bus.  I was fine beforehand.  There was no explanation for this mysterious, sudden ill.  It was a good thing there wasn’t anyone sitting next to me, because I was restless.  I couldn’t get comfortable.  I had that gagging reflex that came and went with the nausea.  I had no other symptoms, just something to put a crimp in my trip.

I began to read on my phone.  This didn’t seem to help things, but I felt compelled to read my Bible app.  I was browsing around the app, there is a place for notes. I had written a note exactly one year ago tomorrow, May 16, 2014  “Fear Not”  I clicked on the note that I had written.  Deuteronomy 31:6 was all that was written.  So, of course, I went to the passage.  I don’t even remember the “where” of how I had received this verse, but it was very appropriate for the trip I was making.

Anyway, when we hit Boston, I began to feel a bit better, not best, but better.  I walked thru the bus terminal thinking maybe I needed to eat.  I ordered a sandwich and figured I would eat when I got on to my bus.

This trip I decided to take a “Bolt Bus” from Boston to NYC.   My reasons were sound, more leg room, better wifi, and cheaper too.  I went to get in line and the attendant came and encouraged me to have a seat because there was a bit of a wait.  So I dragged all my stuff (I actually thought I took less this time.)  I sat down between 2 people.  One gentleman asked me a question about his ticket.  I must look knowledgeable about such things.  The other person got up and left.  I stayed where I was.  An older gentleman came and sat beside me.  His wife was behind him.  I asked if she wanted to have my seat.  She declined.  They were very funny with one another, bantering back and forth.   They started talking about their bus ride on Monday.  “The bus caught fire, and blew up!”  I was in shock!  What!  I wanted details (or did I?)  So they told me.  They were kind of laughing as they were telling me.  I’m sure I turned about three shades of white.

 They were using the Bolt Bus to come to Boston, from NYC,  to visit their Son.  (This really wasn’t a story I wanted to hear.)  The bus driver had problems with the bus and had to pull in somewhere on the way to get a small repair done.  A short while later, they were back on the road.  They had only been on the road for about 20 minutes, when the bus caught fire.  The man continued his story.  He said they got everyone off the bus and all their things too, when the bus just blew up.  I’m like horrified.  I’m sure my face showed it.  I kept saying, “Really??”  “Are you kidding me?!?”  This is like watching a movie about a train derailing and having to go on a train the next day.

The older gentleman looked at me smiling, and said, “Oh, you’ll be alright.  Just stick with us.  Statistically, it shouldn’t happen again.”   That’s all well, and good, but what if statistics are wrong.  My mind was racing, searching for a way out of having to get on the bus.

It was in that moment that God reminded me of the verse that I had just been reading.  Deuteronomy 31:6 “Be strong and courageous.  Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the Lord your God who goes with you.  He will not leave you or forsake you.”

I smiled, gathered my things and when it was time, got on the bus.

Lost and Found

I woke up on Sunday morning.  I wasn’t refreshed, but I wasn’t as sick as I had been.  The nausea was gone, and the sore throat had faded.

I began to get my things together to get out on the street.  I hadn’t planned to go to the Mission until the beginning of the week.  Today would be dedicated to mainly street work.  Giving out D & D cards to the homeless.  As I was getting my things together, I discovered that my wallet was gone.  I looked through every nook and cranie of my room, the bathroom the kitchen.  I retraced my steps to the store across the street.  That was the last place I had it.  I went in and asked the clerk.  He said if it was there it would be in a specific cubby.  It wasn’t there.  I walked back across the street to my room, much more slowly taking in every square inch of the sidewalk, hallway and apartment.  I looked through my stuff about 5 times.  It was not there. 

It hadn’t had time to really sink in, because I had been too busy trying to fix it.  The magnitude of it suddenly hit me.  I am in New York City with no identification, virtually no money, because my debit card and credit card were in the wallet, which was gone.  My mind started to race….I won’t be able to board the bus, because I don’t have an id.  The only way I can go anywhere was to walk, because I had no metro card.  You need money for that.  I went through my big backpack and found cash that people had given to buy D & D cards.  There was $30.  That’s all I had.  The rest of the cash was in my wallet, which was gone.  I could conceivably eat at D & D all week with all the cards that I had, but that is not why I am here.  This is not about me.

I sent a text out to my Prayer Warriors.  I couldn’t do what I do without them.  It was afternoon and I hadn’t eaten anything yet.  I was too caught up in the loss of my wallet.  There was literally nothing I could do, so I walked to W125th Street to look for food.  Everything felt so uncertain.  If this or this happened how would I do what I need to do?  I would not stop.  That just isn’t in the plan.  I would be slowed down for sure.  I prayed as I walked, at one point tears just flowed down my cheeks.  I’m sure my eyes were red and swollen.  I prayed through my tears.  I just knew that God had something to show me.  I didn’t want to miss it by reacting or overreacting.  I wanted to walk through it.

While I was walking a man came up to me.  He was trying to sell his CD for his group.  He had a great presentation, said all the right things.  He called me Queen.  I listened to every word.  I didn’t stop him.  I let him go on, and then when it got to the point where I would say, “Oh yes, I would love to buy that CD.”  I said, “I’m sorry, but I have lost my wallet.”  He got this look on his face like he’d never heard that excuse before.  I said, “I’m serious.  I lost my wallet, so I don’t think I can buy your CD.”  He gave me such a merciful look.  He said, “Queen, I will pray for you to find your wallet.  I will pray that you find it in your house.  I will pray for you.”  I expressed my thanks and moved on.

I continued on, got some food, and sat in front of these vendors lined up on W125th street.  There was one who was advertising free Bibles, playing old time gospel music.  It sang to my heart.  After a while, I decided it was time to head back.

Along the way, I ran into Nomis Scott Jacobs.  He isn’t homeless, but was sitting asking for food.  (Just because someone is not homeless, does not mean they do not need food.)  I gave him the card.  He asked if the card had been meant for me.  I said, “No.”  I explained that someone from Maine had bought the card just for him.  He smiled.  I asked if he knew the Lord.  I got a positive response.  A lot of these people have incredible faith.  I shook his hand and continued on.

Before I left my room, I had checked my cards online to make sure they weren’t being used.  If they had, I would have shut them down.  I just wasn’t being lead that way yet.  I had hope that they would materialize somehow.  I fantasized that I would come back to my room and it would be on my bed.  At one point, I started to blame the cat.  My Airbnb hostess has a cat, and thought maybe for one second that the cat was a kleptomaniac.

In all my life, I will never forget that feeling, those questions that ran through my mind.  Everything had changed in a second.  My security had been pulled away.  It can happen to any of us.  Our security, or what we think is security can be ripped away at any moment.  Things can change instantly.  Where does our hope lay?

I came back to my room, searched again.  I began thinking of strategies to get what I needed.  I could have money sent by Western Union.  I called to see if there was a way to do it so I wouldn't need an id.  I would have to wait until morning for the rest. 

I kept feeling that I needed to go back to the store.  Yes, they had said, no it wasn't there, but there was something stirring in my heart.  I needed to check with the clerk that was there last night.

At this point, there was absolutely nothing that I could do, nothing.  I was so exhausted that I laid down and slept.  I slept for two hours.  When I got up, I decided that I would check back at the store.  It was worth a shot.  So I did.  I walked down the stairs, out the front door, looking every step of the way again.  I waited for the light to turn so that I could go.  I walked straight into the store, up to the counter, and asked the clerk if he remembered me from last night.  I stated that I had lost my wallet.  He reached up into a different cubby than the other guy had, and brought out my wallet.  In that moment I leapt over the counter and kissed him square on the lips. (NOT!!!! But I sure felt like I could have.)  He did give me my wallet.  He said, “You might want to check it to make sure everything is there.”  You see I had dropped my wallet, and someone had turned it in.  I was so grateful.  I didn't think to give him anything for his kindness.  So I went back later and tried to give him the cash that was in the wallet.  He refused it.

The first thing I did was thank the Lord, and then I went to buy a metro card.

Michael from May 2014 D & D card from Liz

The following video is from the May 2014 trip to NYC.  This is Michael, who was on his way to the liquor store.  Michael was very honest about his story.  He said he had some PTSD issues.  He had used drugs for a long time, but now just was in the bottle.  

 

Doing Laundry equals Workout

Usually at some point during my week, I have to do laundry.  Today was laundry day.  I was going to do it at a Laundromat, when I remembered that the convent has a washer & dryer.  This time my room is on the 2^nd floor.  The basement, where the washer and dryer are, is 2 floors below the ground floor.  I walked two floors up to my room, gathered my clothes to be washed.  I went all four floors down, realized when I got there that I had forgotten to bring $2.25 in quarters.  I left my stuff and went back up the four floors to get change.  I didn’t have enough.  I only had $1.75.  I did have a couple dollars, so I went 2 floors down to the office to get change.  The office lady searches, but only has 1 quarter.  She asks me to hold on, while she gets her friend.  He comes in and has only 3 quarters.  I say that it is fine and give him the dollar bill.  She throws in the 1 quarter she had.  I sprang down over the 2 floors to the basement, plunk my $2.25 in the washer, but notice when it gets to .75 it’s stuck.  I put in all nine quarters.  Of course, I pound on it to see if it will register the $2.25 I had put in.  Instead it went back to me owing $2.25.  So I run up (Yes, at this point I am running.) 1 flight of stairs to the kitchen to ask if they can help me with the washer.  Of course, they all speak Spanish.  They can understand me, but I can’t understand them.  So the older Spanish speaking woman sends the younger Spanish speaking woman down the flight of stairs to the washer.   She signals me asking if I put nine quarters in, by holding up nine digits.  I nod yes, indicating that I had.  She fools with it a bit, and then indicates by pointing that I need to go up to the office.  So I take a deep breath and walk intently up 2 flights to the office. I explained my situation, and said I thought the place where the money goes is full, and that is why it wasn’t registering.  She conceded that that was probably so, but said that the Mother Superior had passed away on Friday, and she was the only one who knew about the key.  I was very sad to hear that.  She was very humorous when I was there in May 2014.  I remember buying a big 2 ½ gallon container of water (Poland Spring, of course), when I came in with it she explained that the water here was just fine, and I could drink it, and didn’t have to buy water.  Then she flashed me this big smile, as if to say gotcha, because of course, I came back with all the reasons why I needed to have my Poland Spring. 

To continue, the office lady gave it her best effort to find the key, but to no avail.  So I said, I would just go to the Laundromat, I thought there was one close by. So again, I descended down the 2 flights of stairs to acquire my clothing, and came back up again, leaving my clothes at the ground floor and ascending the stairs to get my stuff.  I figured I could write while waiting for my clothes to wash and dry. 

Convent Stairs going up.

 
                  Convent Stairs going down.

I walked to the nearest laundromat, which was down a few blocks.  It was a very busy place with the typical row of washers extending the length of the building, met with the row of dryers, in the back lining the width of the building.  I found a washer that was free.  Shoved my clothes in, threw my detergent pod, and turned it on.

While waiting, I noticed there was a coffee place across the street.  Of course, I could get my latte while waiting.  I needed the rest after the workout at the Convent.  I finished up writing and walked across the street to put my clothes in the dryer.  There was no dryer.  All the dryers were filled and actually backed up.  So my thought was, I could take my laundry back to the Convent, because they had a dryer that worked.

So I walked the few blocks back to the Convent with the wet heavy load of laundry.  I went straight down the two flights of stairs.  I eagerly put the clothes in the dryer, closed the dryer door, closed the dryer door, closed the dryer door, and slammed the dryer door, to no avail.  With my head hung in defeat, and shoulders slumped, I realized that the dryer was broken.

I hung my clothes on the line provided, and proceeded to go to my room to rest.  Doing laundry is exhausting.

ADOPT AN EVENING

Before the October trip to New York City, my goal was to raise money for an “Adopt an Evening” event at the New York City Rescue Mission in New York City.  The Adopt an Evening goes like this, you, or an organization, brings the meal to the Mission, and you, or the organization, serves it.  The mission staff will help, but basically you, or the organization, take the ball, and can do it any style you wish too.  Since I was so far away, it would be difficult to pull together some macaroni and cheese, hot dogs, and veggie for 300+ people with no place to cook it.  Getting it on the subway would have been really interesting,  So instead of that, I would raise funds to pay for the meal.  The Adopt an Evening cost is $750.00 for one evening meal.  It costs $2.50 per person.  I figured I would find 75 people to give me $10 for the “Adopt an Evening” event.  In exchange for the funds, I would put their name on a “prettified” list and in essence, take them with me.  The Adopt an Evening Event would take place on October 26, 2014.  The list would be displayed for the many hungry men, women and children to see as they came by to pick up their plate of food.  Many people came forward to help, some giving more than $10.  We were able to raise $600.00.  (I’m sure you are saying, “Awww…that’s too bad…..Didn’t meet the goal….Better luck next time.”)   Well, God knew the need, because we had 240 guests on that night.  Do the math…240*$2.50 equals……drum roll please…$600.00.

(This is a copy of the "prettified" list.  I have several pictures from that night that disappeared.  This list was framed and sat on the counter, so that everyone could see it, as they were served.)

NEW YORK CITY RESCUE MISSIO

ADOPT AN EVENING

October 26, 2014

Rich C	Maine	Paul J.	Maine
Ben C	Maine	Debbie J.	Maine
Joey C	Maine	Daryl S.	Maine
Lynn T	Maine	Julie S.	Maine
Debbie G.	Maine	Gerry G.	Maine
Terry W.	Maine	Mary Lou G.	Maine
Liz W.	Maine	Cecila B.	Maine
Richard M.	Maine	Dick S.	Maine
Debbie M.	Maine	Nancy S.	Maine
Pat O.	Maine	Dwight J.	Maine
Connie O.	Maine	Lynn J.	Maine
Julie C.	Maine	Bethany F.	Maine
Steve C.	Maine	Danny A.	Maine
Tammy D.	Florida	Kathy A.	Maine
Robert D.	Florida	Ric W.	Maine
Melissa W.	Kansas	Pearl W.	Maine
Vince W.	Kansas	Peter .	Maine
Jen J.	Maine	Debbie G.	Maine
Terry H.	Maine	Rich W.	Maine
Dianne H.	Maine	Cindy W.	Maine
Missy S.	Maine	Maria	Maine
Andrea P.	Maine	Jaceil S.	Maine
Sharon H.	Maine	Kylie W.	Maine
		Priscilla S.	Maine

Since I was on my own, the Mission asked the great people of Rescuing Leftover Cuisine https://www.facebook.com/RescuingLeftoverCuisine to pitch in and help serve.

Here comes the great part of that evening.  I arrived at the Mission in the afternoon.  I had checked in with Chef Sal earlier in the day to make sure that things were on for the evening.  Come to find out, he had not been notified that I was not bringing the actual food, so was not prepared for the evening.  He quickly put a great meal together.  Anyway, I arrived an hour or two before the meal, checked in again with Chef Sal to see what I could do to pitch in.  I walked across the dining room floor to get my apron.  I saw a group of residents gathered around talking.   I dug out an apron, put it on.  My back was to the group of men.  I began to walk by the guys and recognized one of them.  This is where it gets interesting.  I said “Hi Christopher.”  He looked up, with a puzzled look on his face.  In a quick disturbed voice he replied, “How do you know my name?”  He obviously didn’t recognize me.  My reply, “We met in January.  I was coming down the stairs to the soup kitchen.  You had just finished your evening meal.”  Suddenly, he jumped up, and came toward me.  He looked at me and said, “IT’S YOU!!! YOU…I’ve been looking for you.  You gave me money for coffee.  Where have you been?!?” 

Christopher in January 2014

You see Christopher was living on the street in January.  I met him on the stairs going down to the soup kitchen in January.  At that time, he said he was a believer, but had made some bad choices.  He said he was where he was at for a reason.  I gave him $2.00 (that was before the D & D card idea.) to get a cup of coffee.  That was unsolicited.  He did not ask.  I just gave.  That act stuck with him, and he looked for me after that encounter.  He continued to tell me how much had changed in his life.  He is in the resident program.  He has been in the resident program for a few months.

What is really amazing is that I instantly recognized his face.  He had changed a lot.  The pictures show the change.  I think that is why I take time with each one.  I want to absorb their faces.  I want to remember their names.  The encounters are often short, but rich and meaningful, to them and to me.

To go on, Christopher was so excited that he began pulling people in and telling them who I was.  I was the woman who gave him $2.00 for coffee.  It seems so small and insignificant, but monumental to the one in need.  It was like this huge celebration was going on before the Adopt an Evening even started.  How cool is that?!?

Christopher and I, October 26, 2014

RECIPE

I was telling someone not to long ago that some of the best meals I have made at the soup kitchen were accidents, or if you will "mistakes." That's right that "to die for" blueberry cake was a mistake, not really a mistake, but a change in the recipe. I read the recipe, but in the scurry of getting it together to put in the oven I made mistakes, or changes were made.  Of course those mistakes/changes have translated into great tasting blueberry cake or Salisbury Steak, or whatever.
I felt that way this morning.  I got up planned to go to the Mission to pitch in.  I was feeling good after a day or so of feeling tired and worn.  I had gone to Chef P's soup kitchen,  which was an amazing experience.  God gave me the day before off to rest.
Anyway, I got up feeling refreshed and planned to go to the Mission.
I got dressed and headed down the 2 flights of stairs and out the door of the convent. Per usual, I walked down 20th st to 9th avenue to 23rd and 8th ave. to pick up the subway to Canal St station.  The train made the usual stops 14th and then 4th.  I felt that prompting to get off at 4th St station.  I didn't know why,  but I listened and followed.  Yes, I still had a plan, but the recipe changed.  As I walked through the tunnel, that echoing tunnel where Kenny (from last trip) had belted out beautiful music from his baritone voice gifted by God.  I didn't know why I was going that way.  I just kept walking.  I climbed the stairs and at the top was Raul. A very clean cut military looking man.  He was a marine.  He had a sign.  He had a bucket. He had a message.
As I had before with the others, I said, "Hi my name is Sue.  What's yours?" I stuck my hand to out to shake his hand.  He grabbed it, and happily shook.  I began asking the questions.  His name is Raul.  He is a Veteran who is in temporary housing, because he can't get what he needs from his government whom he selflessly volunteered to fight for our freedom. He is unable to find a job and therefore unable to get permanent housing.  He said he is very humbled that he is asking citizens for help.  I I asked him how many stop by to meet you and get your story?   He lowered his head and said, "not many.  "It's discouraging.  But it's the only thing I can do right now, while I wait."  I had a gift card to D&D.  So I gave it to him.  He was blown away by that simple act.  ""Wow!  I was just thinking how a good cup of coffee would taste right now."  He asked to give me a hug.  Of course,  I accepted.   I threw some money in the bucket as well.  We talked about his relationship with the Lord.  Yes, he too has faith in our God.  I encouraged him to not give up and to continue his faith in God.  I said I would pray for him, shook his hand and I walked on.   As I walked away, I heard Raul's voice yelling, "Thank You Sue," from where I had come from.  I smiled and continued to walk.

I walked down the street a bit and ran into Patrick who was sitting on the sidewalk against the building, with his sign.  He didn't look like Raul, but had the same message, with the exception that he was homeless.  Another Veteran on the streets, looking for help.  I know some judge my methods, but I am not called to judge them.   My calling is to give encouragement, to get their names and stories. 

Of course, I gave Patrick a D&D card and went on my way.  As I started up the street, I realized I was heading in the opposite direction from the Mission (I know, nothing new for me.).

The recipe for the day had been changed from it's origin to an "out of this world" gourmet treat.

I promised Raul that I would share his story.  I thought Veteran's Day an appropriate time.