Wednesday, September 11, 2013


September 11, 2013

I mean to live out my faith. Even if I don’t know what to do. I mean to live out my faith, even if I don’t know what to say. I mean to live out my faith, even if it makes me uncomfortable. Even if I’m afraid. If I’m alone. I mean to live out my faith.

Tonight I did something small, something insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Tonight I tried to be a blessing to someone in need, but he blessed me instead. But that’s how it usually works when God is involved. On the way home from choir practice I noticed a homeless man walking down my street. I certainly don’t live in the richest part of town, just a good middle class neighborhood full of families but one doesn’t usually see the homeless too often around here. I got to the house and my husband and daughter were out so I was alone. I turned on the TV, petted the dogs, took a phone call but he weighed on my mind. I looked out the window and I could see him standing on the corner just down from my house. What was I going to do about this? Would I turn a blind eye and close the blinds because the sight of him made me nervous? Would I excuse myself from doing anything because I was home alone? How many times do we see need and look the other way? I know I have. I had just put on my pajamas and put my clothes in the washing machine too. But what was I going to do about this? Determined not to turn my face (and my heart) away this time I grabbed the peanut butter and jelly and made a couple of sandwiches and basically raided my daughter’s lunch supplies. It wasn’t fancy but it would fill his stomach. I threw some clothes back on and went outside. He had walked further down the street by this time so I hopped in the car and drove down the block, got out and met him on the sidewalk. As I gave him the food, I looked into his face – it was not at all what I expected. He was young – maybe thirties, and handsome under the beard and grime. He didn’t seem to be under the influence of drugs or alcohol, or mentally ill. Who knows what his story was – I wish now that I would have spoken longer to him but it was dark and I was alone and I never said I was brave or strong but next time I’ll be braver and stronger. He thanked me and told me how much Jesus loves me. He was warm and caring. I meant to bless him, but he really blessed me. I am humbled, and I am thankful. I mean to live out my faith.