A Reminder

Sometimes I think that God gives us second chances, and I am so thankful for that!

Last night as I fell asleep, I had the best intentions. I have really been pressing in to God, especially during this this season as we lead up to Easter. I am immersed in books, scriptures, devotionals...You name it, and I am doing it! But this morning as I get up and look around, I see sick kids. I see a rushed morning schedule. I see preparations that fall on me as a mom and feel like I am not doing enough. I am slightly overwhelmed in the middle of a morning that is supposed to be spent nestled up with the Lord for my “Him time,” yet here I am. Discouraged.

I know it is popular in the Christian belief to declare “God has a plan for your life,” and I do believe that. I say that to people all of the time! But today, God is reminding me that yes, he has a plan for my life, but he also has a plan for this day. Am I walking in relationship with my Heavenly Father? I think and hope so! But what about right now? As I sit here and type this, amidst sick kids and a dirty house and a hectic schedule?

This post is my attempt at taking back my day. I had originally started to pour this out to my small group, but apparently GroupMe won’t let me say this much. So you get to hear it...ha!

Today is our pantry day at work, and that means that the sidewalk to my office will have people lined up all the way down it, waiting to get food for their families. Today I am not going to simply walk inside and start getting busy, I am going to be intentional about the people I see, greet, hug, pray with, cry with, encourage...Because maybe I don’t know what God’s plan is for my life, I know what he would have me do today, and that is where it starts (well, as soon as I warm up some chicken noodle soup and hot tea for my sick man child, anyway).

Friends, I guess that what I am trying to say is that it is easy to get sidetracked by the things that have nothing to do with our plans that God has for us. Being intentional about looking up from our own circumstances and seeking the face of God will oftentimes deliver us to our place of the day, where the Great I Am is trying to get our attention about the things that he has prepared us for, so then it becomes his day.

And the best part? That little stuff doesn’t seem so big anymore, and more times than not, the people that we think we are sent to encourage for the day, usually being the ones to encourage us.

Be blessed! This is the day that the Lord has made and I will rejoice and be glad in it!

Last day with Joanna

Today I said to her, “You know I love you, though!” as she left my office. I never would have imagined that less than an hour later, I would be telling the paramedics that yes, I knew who she was. I would be standing in the middle of a scene that resulted in the loss of my friends’ life. That I would be rehashing the conversations that led up to this moment where I would no longer be able to hear her voice again, except the voice messages she left me every day, sometimes two or three a day.

Gone just like that.

And then the speculations. My God, how people can be so cruel. People suggesting that maybe she was high; or maybe she deserved it because of where she was standing on the bypass; or perhaps she was just an afterthought because she was homeless and not worth a second thought.

Well she was to me. She had a name. She had family that loved her. She had friends that she would protect, no questions asked. And I was one of them.

after Joanna

...But then she rolled over and looked out of her window and up to the sky and realized something. No matter what had happened in the last few days, or how much she had cried and mourned, today was a new day. A new sunrise had given way to all of the pain she could now release, and begin to understand what he meant by the kind of peace that He could give. That it hadn’t been a peace like the world gives, because the world had hurt her heart. But peace that could be found in him. She realized that for every tear she had released, He was counting them, and they mattered so much.

For today, she truly understands what it meant when she heard the words, “Oh death, where is your sting,” because the One whose death mattered most had given her life again. It couldn’t undo all that had happened, still she found peace.

Praise God. He’s alive.

pantry

Week 2 is in the books, y’all.

Call me unoriginal, but I found myself at the Storehouse again yesterday, bagging goodies for the folks that came through the pantry and praying over them as they left. I am so blessed that God brought me to this place where the spirit of God is so thick that it could be cut with a knife. I am so blessed by this ministry and thank God for its existence.

Now that school is out for the summer, there have been lots of little ones coming through. Of course you know I am loving that though it does seem to bring some mixed emotions as they rip into the bag of food that they just picked from the shelf; happy that they have some food to eat yet somber wondering what they would have done if places like the Storehouse, Soul Food mission cafe, and Bethlehem House didn’t exist.

God, please continue to bless these ministries as they reach out to people who need to know that they are loved and that their life is important to not only the community of Conway, but moreso to you.

The best story of the day belongs to a young man who is 8 years old. *Jackson was there with his mom and after I had bagged up their groceries, I asked mom if there was anything specific she wanted to pray about and this sweet little voice said, “Pray? What does that mean?” As I explained to him what it meant to pray and how God hears us and how we are never alone, I asked him if he knew who Jesus was. He replied, “I’m not sure. I think I have heard of him before but would you tell me anyway?” With that question, the heart of this children’s ministry volunteer jumped with excitement as I told him that God had a son for us because he loves us so much and that Jesus was his name and he wanted to be our friend. I told *Jackson that God would listen to us as we prayed and sometimes he would talk back and he got real quiet and put his hand up to his ear and said, “I don’t hear anything,” and I said that sometimes he talks to us when we pray to him so Jackson said, “Well, let’s pray then!”

The prayers of this sweet little boy will forever be in my heart. He said,” God,I don’t really know who you are but this lady says that you had a son named Jesus who loves me and I think I would like it if you would live in my heart and leave with me today. I’d also like it if you would give me some Pokemon stuff, too.”

The tear that slipped down my cheek as Jackson prayed the first prayer of his life quickly gave way to a chuckle as I realized how important the faith of a child is to our Father. This week at VBS at my church, Conway First church of the Nazarene, we gave the kids in attendance a yellow bracelet that reads “Watch for God.” I gave mine to Jackson and as he left I thought about how good God was to allow me to see him move in Jackson’s heart. Scripture says, “My heart says of you, ‘Seek his face.’ Your face, Lord, I will seek.” (Psalm 27:8) When we seek God, he always gives us more than enough of his spirit.

I hear a lot of “Bible belt” talk and how because of where we live in this nation, we automatically must know who Jesus is and how to pray, but that is not true. God bless the missionaries that travel to the far ends of the world; also bless the ones that I am fortunate enough to have met along this path that God has led me; there are truly some amazing missionaries in Conway, Arkansas.

If you are willing to pray for *Jackson and his mom, thank you so much. If you are like Jackson and want a relationship with Jesus, please let me or someone else know. You can send me a message via messenger, or come boldly as you are and in the comments let me know.

Love to you all.

Through His lens

"I just can't take it anymore. I just can't go on like this. I just don't want to live. I just don't want him to hurt me anymore. I am scared. If only you knew how much it hurt. If only you knew what it was like to live this way. Please, God, take this pain away."

The last 24 hours of my life have been a whirlwind of grief, fear, anxiety, mania, brokenness, hopelessness, heartbreak, and I have privately cried more since yesterday than as long as I can remember. No, this pain is not my own, but it sits on me. My heart hurts for them. Not just one broken person, but many. So many hurting. So many desperate to have a life that brings any semblance of peace. Yet none can be found.

My mind wrestles with the young woman who fled a relationship that nearly killed her, yet rests in knowing that she got away. That the fear that struck both of us when we saw HIM was crippling, yet she is now safe. That when she trembled as she cried tonight, it wasn't because she was still afraid, rather because she wasn't anymore. And that is where I saw God.

For the man who called me from the parking lot of the emergency room, ready to pull the trigger because he couldn't take it anymore: God sat with him, and he is now safe.

For the young mama so desperate to fill a hole that her children used to fill, yet continues to find a way to speak about her love for them even in their absence, that must be God.

And for the young woman typing this, who used to say to herself that if her family knew how much she hurt that they would surely understand why she decided to leave them, she was found by God, too.

And to anyone who reads this and finds themselves hurting, there are people who care. Reach out, we're here. More and most importantly, God has a way of restoring us in time and where you are now is not where you will be forever.

Weary

During the overnight hours, the town of Conway had an layer of ice poured upon it and I’m convinced that no one has felt the sting of cold weather like our local homeless population. The

Conway Ministry Center

began making special accommodations to be open extended hours due to the forecast. What a difference it has made.

What I have seen is that my unsheltered friends are tired. They have trickled in, weary and cold, hungry and hurting, and desperate to just be still. Many have simply slept, some barely waking up long enough to eat something warm before returning to the comfort of a bed with fresh sheets and a new pillow. Others eat so much, like they are preparing for the possibility of a day where they will have to leave and finding a meal won’t be so easy.

It is in this place where you will find the weary drag their tired souls to a place of refuge where I pray they know how loved they are.

So that’s where we will be. Soon the weary will be us, yet we will keep coming back, day after day, night after night: to the warming station. Like those that we are called to care for, to feed, to offer comfort to, to clothe, to shelter, to pray with and for, we will continue to do just that.

And maybe, just maybe, they will see Jesus.

“Preach the Gospel at all times. And when necessary, use words.”

Joanna

One year ago today, I lost a client. Her name was Joanna and man, was she something.

So many in the homeless community knew Joanna because she had a way of pulling people in need to the places where they could find resources. She was a regular fixture of the Ministry Center and could be found regularly giving out snack cakes or water bottle additives from the lobby. What she had, everyone had. That's just how she was. The day she died, something happened to me and it's taken this year to discover that healing from her death has been harder than I ever would have imagined. Truth be told, I didn't recognize that the trauma of the situation had caused a change in my heart. It would take a simple Sunday school lesson for me to see it clearly like I do now. Let me explain.

Joanna was used to asking me for rides. It happened atleast once a week where she'd hop in the car with me and I'd take her somewhere to get a meal or back to her hotel. The last day I saw her alive, I couldn't give her a ride. I had to tell her no. Joanna walked out of my office and within fifteen minutes, had been hit and killed by a tractor trailer. My mind immediately went to, "If I would have given her a ride, she would be alive." No one could tell me differently.

The change didn't happen overnight, but looking back, I can see how it touched every part of my life. At first, I thought I didn't deserve the right to claim to love and care for people because I couldn't care for her. Masked under the label of being "Covid safe," I withdrew and that started something dark and scary in my life. Before long, I was believing the lies that would tell me that my husband deserved better. My kids deserved better. I wasn't worth the job that I had, and didn't even deserve to carry the banner of Christ.

I thought I wasn't worthy of the love of God, and surely he loved the world enough to send His Son, but that couldn't be for me. I wasn't worth it.

It wasn't until I confessed to my inner circle how I was feeling, did healing begin. They began to send me scripture and songs that reminded me of the Father's love for me. Healing began and now I can't imagine not having my small group of friends, my family (work and home) and my church to lift my eyes back to the Father who was holding my hand through all of my pain and telling me that I was worth the saving that God so freely gives.

I guess I am saying all of that to say this. A year ago if you would have asked me if I had a firm foundation of faith, I would have told you yes, I did! I have experienced Christ in some of the darkest places of my life: in addiction, in the loss of a pregnancy, of my marriage; my God has proven himself faithful more times than I could ever count! But I truly know that there is an enemy of our souls and friends, he doesn't always come like a whirlwind, destroying everything in a big way. Sometimes he sneaks in when we don't see and plants something so small, by the time we are aware, it's huge. That's why we have to put on the armor of God and stay in his Word, because it is Truth. It is alive, and I'm thankful for its words for jumping off the page during Sunday school.

I'll end with this. One of my favorite stories from the Bible comes from Luke 8 and it's about the bleeding woman who was desperate to get healing from Jesus as he walked through a crowd of people. She's so desperate to encounter Him and I can look back and remember times in my life that I was this woman, craving for God to bring healing to my pain. Jesus's words, "Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace," have spoken to me before, but when I imagine Jesus's voice, it has always been soft, soothing. This particular Sunday, I heard those very words said back to me in a way that I believe God knew he had to express to me in a way that would get my attention. He said, "Daughter! Don't you hear me? I've given you healing before. I have delivered you before. Now go, and get the peace that only I can give you now." The soothing voice that I had once heard was now being boldly said to me in a way that would shake me from the darkness and bring me back into His light. I'm so thankful that the Word of God is alive, for that is the only place that I could have possibly found healing.

Dear God,

My heart goes out to the one tonight that is hearing something that is not from you and is believing it. God, I know you know their pain. Would you pour your light into the darkness that surrounds them? Would you remind them that they are precious to you? That you paid a price for them, too? That they are loved and a treasured gift. Thank you for saving me out of the darkness and for making a garden out of a grave for me. And thank you to the person reading this that gets to see their garden, too.

Amen

87Sue E Wilson, Lynetta Baker Williams and 85 others

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The man whose name I don't even know.

I don't even know his name, yet I can't get the image of his face out of my mind. Like most emergencies tend to be, we got hit twice within fifteen minutes of closing the center. The very-pregnant mama who had literally been walking the streets all day with her boyfriend showed up within seconds of the gentleman whose name I still don't know.

Doing everything in his power to support his pregnant girlfriend, the boyfriend never received his daily pay of $50 for working an eight hour day because the owner said he would have to pay him another day because not enough people had stopped by for business. Each day, the father-to-be would take his daily pay and rent a room at a cheap hotel because saving up for a rental deposit was beyond what he was able to do to keep her from sleeping on the sidewalk each night. But on this night, we received a blessing: we found her somewhere to be. Somewhere with a bed, a shower, a meal. At no cost, except for their separation for there was only one space available for her. It was a sacrifice the dad was willing to make.

We rushed to get a few things bagged up for them when the stranger appeared. With blood dripping off of his forehead, and obvious bruising on his arms and legs, he was quite a sight to behold. Requesting a bus ticket, we told him that we would have to work on it the next day, that it would take a little time to research. As he accepted the bandages we offered him for his wounds, he asked where the bus station was and then took off walking. He didn't want medical help, only a bus ticket to get out of town.

Once the pregnant mama situation was settled, I felt a stir in my heart for the bloodied man. I began to drive up and down Harkrider street looking to see if I could find him and somehow check to make sure he was okay.  Nowhere in sight. I pulled into the bus station and went inside to see if he was there, but he wasn't. I asked the attendant if she had seen anyone matching his description and she said that he had just left. Thank you Jesus, he had made it! But where was he now? The attendent told me that he had walked around the back of the store so I cautiously started searching. I found an area that I could tell had folks staying in it, but I dared not venture too far in alone. I was very careful to stay where cars in the parking lot could have a plain view of me and what was going on if things got hairy.

I began to yell out, and then cry. "It's me! Sarah from the Ministry center and I am here to help! Is anyone back there? I just need to make sure you are alright!" No one answered. No one came.

I left the parking lot with such an ache in my heart. Thankful to know that he had atleast arrived at the station, I wanted him to know that someone cared about his wellbeing, and not that he was "just another client."

I went on to church and listened to our children's pastor deliver a message about Jesus' response when he found out that his beloved John the Baptist had passed away. How easy it would have been for Jesus to shrink back and demand to have a little time to mourn for himself, yet how he instead selflessly began to take care of all the people who needed him for medical healings shortly thereafter. I tried to hold the tears back again as I struggled not to cry in front of the kids, but I am sure the one sitting next to me noticed my attempts to wipe my cheeks quickly (it was my son).

I pray to God that I did all I could do to show the man,whose name I don't know, that I love him and hope he is alright. I pray he comes back tomorrow. I pray that he remembers us for our kindness even though we didn't do a lot for him. And I pray that I never compare myself to the people from the Bible who didn't stop as they passed the beaten man lying in the road needing help, but rather as the Samaritan who did.

Jesus.

Arkansas is such a beautiful state. It is truly a location worthy of every postcard that dons a picture of it's landscapes. From the hills north of us to the cobblestone streets that you can find in several of our touristy areas; to the springs that swell from the ground releasing: we are truly blessed to live here.

Conway isn't half bad either. Say what you will about our festive streets at Christmas time, the frog (sorry, toad)  that adorns the street of our city's main square, to the beautiful architecture found in many of our historic downtown buildings, it is no wonder why people who visit tend to fall in love and return (even if it's only one weekend in May, ribbit ribbit). 

I am proud to call Conway home. However, there are days where it is not the beauty that I see that God has graced the inhabitants of our town with, rather in the places where much of its forgotten townspeople reside. Now I don't say that to pour out guilt on anyone living in a nice part of town. Even my family is blessed to say that we live in a quaint subdivision where the wildest things that happen are when the trick-or-treaters arrive. Or the Wilson boys have their go-pro's out and their nerf darts  are whizzing by each others' head. Exciting times for sure. But what I am saying is that God has a way of opening our eyes to see things that we may not see without his lenses on.

I honestly think that before I answered the call of urban ministry (Conway is urban, right?) I, too, might have wondered what it was like beyond the picket fences and coffee shops. Would I be prepared to understand what it meant to lie down in a bed and wake up with a measle-like rash covering every inch of me that had slept on a bedbug infested mattress? Or what it might be like to have a roach fall on my shoulder because my living room had direct access to the outdoors because of how dilapidated the residence was? Or imagine a home that anyone could get inside of because the doors wouldn't stay shut, making every possession I owned public property the minute I left? 

I know what you are thinking. If you didn't like it, why not just leave? It's not that simple, and even for someone working two minimum wage jobs, the reason our country faces the issue of government -dependence is because of a lack of resources for the working class. And when your monthly budget is less while working than what you would receive from government subsidies, a home that costs $325 a month is all that makes sense, either way. So you are stuck and you either learn to adapt or go crazy. Or both. 

Now I know it seems like I am on a economic rant over here, but truly I'm not. Today I was reminded of something in one of the worst residences I have ever stepped foot in. Amidst the ruins, I saw a picture of Jesus hanging on the refrigerator. I snapped a pic and that is all I am going to show you because the rest of the pics I took are someone's home, and I am very protective of reserving the dignity of those I advocate for. But the picture of Jesus... That, I can't stop thinking about.  

To me, it is symbolic. To be completely transparent, I was very uncomfortable being in that house today. I found myself wanting to leave as quick as possible because I questioned what all I was coming into contact with. I wondered what the poor soul must feel like having to chose between the streets or this home. I asked myself what I would do. And then I channeled my own personal Jesus. There he was, in the mess of it all, proudly being displayed from a focal point of the house. How many times had this Jesus, (whom I fondly refer to as Yeshua more often these days because that is what his mama would have called him), met me when I was living in the rubble? When I had tough decisions to make about life and had chosen to remain in the muck and mire? When the grace that he offered me had been extended for the umpteenth time and yet he still called me beloved when I blew it again? 

Dear Jesus, let me be like you. 

And that's what he does. Scripture reminds us time and time again that he went to the people. Sure, he spent ample time in the church as well, but even Jesus realized that he had to go where the hurting was. Where the need was. Where people desperately needed someone to show up and say I don't care what you are living like now, I care about what it looks like with HIM leading the way.  

That's what he did for me. And that is what has made all of the difference in my life. 

The power of a word.

I make people cry. A lot.

Now before anyone jumps to conclusions and assumes that I am some sort of cruel person who goes around making folks cry all day, let me stop you there. Truth be told, I struggle with assertiveness and any time I see someone in need of anything, my natural inclination is to try to find a way to provide what is needed. I am very much a "see a problem and identify a solution" type of gal. I see someone who is hungry, I look for food. I see someone who seems lonely, I sit down beside them. Whatever the solution is to my fixer-upper situation, I am all ears.  Just call me Sarah, the resolutionist. I feel like every problem has a solution and I am determined to find it. Even when it doesn't look like what I might have imagined.

Here's comes where I make people cry a lot. Well, technically I don't. I just get to be a middle man, I guess. God has blessed me by allowing me to be used as a vessel. Nothing that I do makes people cry, because the tears that I see streak down people's cheeks come from a source much higher than me. Honestly, I like to think that I have positioned myself as low to the ground as possible, and definitely on my knees in constant conversation with the One who sends me. He is the Alpha and the Omega and His resolution in people's lives is miraculously better than mine could ever be. He is my source and without His guidance, any of my fixer upper efforts would be in vain.

So maybe I need to restate the thesis of this writing...

I don't make people cry: that would be the intervention of the Holy Spirit doing that.  He works in the lives of hurting people who simply need to hear that the journey that they are has not left them alone wandering in the wilderness; instead, they are being carried by the One who sees their struggle and tells them to take up His yoke, for it is lighter. This isn't necessarily easy for me to do either. Remember, this fixer-upper would like to be able to bring the resolution in a moment's time so that when "A" is presented, "B" can be added, to produce the solution of "C" which is how I have learned to process over the years. But the "C" is representative of something else not of myself, rather of the Big C which is Christ and He is the truest answer to life's questions. Sure, I can try to provide a real tangible answer in the form of a food donation or a change of clothes, or anyone number of things that my human mind can think to provide, but the real action comes when I bow my head and begin to pray.

It is then that the beauty of the Creator fills a messy situation and calls the weary traveler into  a place to rest. Where He reminds them that He sees them. Not like some universal entity looking down from the cosmos with a vague perception of what human kind is up to, but more like a mom or dad who is calling them home because it is dinner time. He is calling their name in the direction that he knows that they are and is ready to serve up their favorite meal. Sounds silly, I know. But that's how I envision my personal daddy who is waiting for me to come running home and leap into His arms.

So, yeah. The tears will probably continue as I get to pour into folks the good news about a Savior, who already knows what the beginning and end look like. It is His faithfulness through each of their journeys that He is so good to remind them that even when they can't see it, He is there and He is the answer.

So go. And be a messenger. The world needs more of them.

God provides

I recognized the name immediately as the note came across my desk, and I quickly asked my coworker if this particular client was still on the phone, waiting for someone to pick up, and she said yes so I gladly jumped on the line to see if everything was ok. I know that a lot of the time when I write about what I do, readers are quick to assume that the clients that I have the honor to serve fit a certain mold. It's a preservation thing and I get it. No one wants to think that they could ever become homeless, or disabled, or unemployed. Sometimes putting people in a labeled box where you can put the lid on top of them keeps their reality separate from our own. Unfortunately, for the elementary school teacher, or the grocery store manager, or the cashier that deposits your paycheck every payday at your local bank, it is easy to see that the borders of the box aren't quite as concrete as one might think. All it takes is one catastrophic blow before the  financial  stability of a household is spiraling out of control. Sometimes a resolution is hard to find. Thankfully, God's bounds know no limits and when He allows me a small glimpse into what He's up to, it's a great day.

Back to the story. I make it a habit to pray over the lives of those I come into contact with. Whether they ask me to, allow me to, or I do after they leave, I always lift them up to the One who knows what the true answer for their predicament may be. Maybe they call because they need rent. Maybe it's a Conway Corp bill. Whatever they present with to me is lifted to the One who knows the true need, and is so good to save. Before I lifted up the phone to take the call, my God was already on the move. I listened intently as the voice on the other line told me how he continued to struggle medically, but confess his trust in Jesus as the picture he painted seemed grim. Suddenly there was a knock on the door and for a split second, I remembered what it once felt like to wonder if the landlord might be coming over with an ultimatum because finances were tough and money had fallen short. Alas, there was a sweet voice coming through the man's phone as I heard him emphatically thank whomever it was for dropping off some second hand clothes that his daughters could have for new school clothes. I reveled in the sound of his voice as you could tell he was holding back tears while graciously thanking the kind donor who had met a need. This story was just getting good.

Our conversation led to a few resources that I gave him that I felt like would be able to help in this financial plight that we were facing, and at the end of it, I reminded him to keep me posted so that we could fill the gap for whatever remaining needs were unmet. There was hope, but even bigger than anything we could give. I received a call this afternoon  from another organization that was going to pay for his entire rent! In the world of charitable agencies, this is huge! But it doesn't end there!

At the other agency, a man walked in. He struck up a conversation with one of the workers about how he himself had once been homeless. He knew what it meant to struggle, and his heart had led him to the place where my client now sat in the back room after receiving the news about his rental assistance. As the once-formerly homeless man described what he was being led to do for someone else, the worker knew exactly who she could refer for the gift, and he was still on the property after receiving rental assistance! It was the man struggling with a debilitating disease that left him unable to work, yet still offering praises to an Almighty God for providing clothing for his daughter, a paid way for whatever sports his kids wanted to play, courtesy of a once-homeless stranger, a place to sleep for atleast another month, and a case manager who is determined to keep the lights on and the air cool so that those kids can see the homework that they will be starting on soon.

You might be surprised to hear me say that the lesson I learned today isn't necessarily how God is so good at providing for people, because I already know this. He always has the final say so, and whether or not my friend received millions of dollars in assistance today or not, I would still confidentally say that. I would rather trust God while crawling through the desert versus relying on my own understanding any day, because his answer is always going to be the best. All of this is a given with me.

Rather, I thank God for the people that simply responded "yes" today. That were willing to take what little they had and watch it multiply when placed in the hands of the One who fed over 5,000 people with 2 fish and 5 loaves of bread. Not only did he do it back then, he does it now. From the donation of clothes, to the formerly-homeless man who felt nudged to help out someone else out, to all who will continue to strive to meet the needs of this family: God uses those who are willing to say "yes" to him everyday.

This story is not my story. It is the story of anyone who responds with a resounding "yes" to the call that God places on their heart that day, and it is the best place to be.

Much thanks to my friend for allowing me the pleasure of sharing this inspirational story today.

A precious newborn baby

There she was, in all her glorious pregnancy. You could tell by the way that she held her stomach that she was the full embodiment of a first time mama. Like a protective mama bear, the sheer mention of her delivery made her face turn from that of a radiant glow to one with a stoic intent. This baby would be cared for, whether on the streets or elsewhere. That is the reality when a homeless situation turns into a "party plus one" event.

So here I sit, trying to count weeks in my head based off of her last period, because you know, women who survive on the streets are known to have regular menstrual cycles, right? Wrong. Stress takes its toll and what she thinks might be "normal" might not be. As I scramble around my house to find some clothes for her to wear, I scatter sticky notes all over the place. "Prenatal vitams?" on one. "Feminine hygiene products" on another. "Ultrasound!" is written on a list in my purse as I start to think about what organizations I can reach out to for help. But really and truly, I want to do a drive by. Not that kind. The kind where I drive by where her tent is and make sure I don't see her squatting in a field trying to withhold the pushes in time for someone to notice her and recognize her need to get to a hospital asap. 

Atleast she isn't alone. It takes two to tango, and knowing that she hasn't been abandoned makes me feel a little bit better. Honestly as a mother, I ask God to purge me of any judgement I have towards a husband who seems to accept this reality as the norm, remembering how thankful that I am that she is not alone. I thank God that even though this mama bear may not have the same type of blessed pregnancy that I had, His ability to work in these parents' lives is the same as it was mine. 

And while the world waits for the the arrival of the homeless baby, I will thank God in advance for how He is going to use me in all this. But moreso, for how He is going to move the hearts of man. 

Once again, through the birth of a son.