Jesus was a Homeless Stranger

At the end of an especially trying week, I pulled into the parking lot at 210 South Prince Street. The male residents were making their way to chapel. The mothers and their children were returning from the dining hall to their dormitory.

While in the car still, I finished up a phone call with a friend caught up in turmoil. His life was spiraling downward and he was fragile and angry. The conversation was turning accusatory and I was receiving the brunt of it. It was becoming harder and harder emotionally for me to maintain my composure. I began to sob in my car now parked in a space in front of the mission. I quietly said goodbye and hung up. I sensed our friendship coming to an end. I felt the sting of rejection. I was in pain.

But there was a job waiting for me in Administration. I had a supervisor depending on me. I wiped away tears and began to cross the parking lot. From the corner of my eye I saw Francisco, a newer resident, who I greeted every morning on the corner where he started his day.

I didn’t have any energy for Francisco this morning. I’ll pretend I don’t see him, I thought. He won’t notice. As I neared “his” corner it became obvious our paths would intersect. He extended his hand to me. I reached out mine... he grasped it and he held it up to his heart. “Buenos dios,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Hello,” he said, smiling a wide toothless grin.

There are times my problems can seem so small. And yet so big. Simply put, God sees them all. And in this instance He provided me comfort from a homeless stranger. Francisco showed me Jesus. May I be able to do the same.

- Debbi Miller, Administration