They All Have Names and She Has More Than Enough

April 2022 Blog

He sits on the sidewalk or on a small folded seat at the edge of a parking lot by the traffic light. Sometimes he’s standing and holding his sign or just looking up to warm his face and body in the afternoon Sun. His small knapsack is at his feet with a few paltry belongings. There are some bushes near by that conceal the sleeping bag he huddles in each night. His skin is ruddy and weathered with a couple days of unshaven facial stubble, yet his eyes are kind and grateful to those who dare to stop and meet him.

There is a rundown car with faded beige and brown paint, fifteen to twenty feet away. An older man is shading himself, as he is hunched over and leaning against the hood of the car. A long gray oversized coat protects his thinning frame. He and his vehicle sadly blend together. They both have lost their luster. All his worldly possessions are stuffed into every inch of the front and back seat. They are covered with a mustard yellow blanket and leave just enough room for him to sit or rest.

Diagonally across the street are a series of stores: fast food, pharmacy, grocery, cleaners, health food and coffee shop. A man dressed in a dark hooded sweatshirt, baggy jeans and scuffed up tennis shoes is carrying a couple of large plastic bags. He moves along the sidewalks, outside the stores, staying behind the stone pillars in an effort to be as inconspicuous as possible. He means no harm. Rummaging through each trash receptacle, his hands reach down in search of every plastic, glass or aluminum container he can find.

She is aware of their presence. They are always there when she is at the food market or running her list of errands. What of the one in the wheelchair or the white haired woman by the home improvement store? A friend mentioned to her in a past conversation of keeping extra food bars on hand to give out when encountering someone in need. What can one person do? Why are there so many on the streets?

For many weeks she has felt a tug on her heart. She recalls the struggles in her own life: sleepless nights, falling to her knees before the One who never leaves or forsakes us.

It’s a few days before Christmas and ham is on the menu for guests that will arrive shortly. While viewing the selections in the meat department, two choices appear: a ham steak which would be ample for the dinner she will prepare or an entire ham. Extra loaves of seven grain bread, cheese and lettuce are instantly added to her list.

All that evening, the aromas of brown sugar and honey glazed ham mingle together and permeate her kitchen. She had already baked a variety of cookies and decides to also boil a dozen eggs. A fresh bag of carrots and a stalk of celery are in the crisping drawer of her refrigerator. She finds herself gathering colored tissue paper, strudy Styrofoam plates and festive holiday napkins, as well as a new box of Christmas cards. She places everything on her dining table, to assemble as many packages as possible.

She knows the saying that it is more joyful to give than to receive. For the next few days, her first hand experience in this unusual venture creates fulfillment beyond what she could have imagined.

December and early months into the New Year have come and gone. It wasn’t just a holiday gift. It’s the time spent talking, listening, praying, encouraging and meeting with these people in transition. Whether it’s Randy a Naval veteran or James who attended Northwestern University in the 60’s. Kathy with a degree in psychology, Willie who lives temporarily at the Ventura Armory, Bob, Valerie or others she has only seen once.

Each week has provided insight, patience and words of hope, along with something home baked. It’s become a labor of love, because, they all have names and she has more than enough.