Sometimes I wonder if we really make a difference in what we do on a daily basis in our shelter programs. Endless needs and problems present themselves over and over every day. Do we really make an impact on our families? Better anyone’s life? I was going through one of these wonderings a few weeks ago. Everything seemed more chaotic than normal. Just as one problem was solved another pair would show up it its place.
People weren’t being successful like I wanted them to be, the place was not clean enough, and paperwork piled to the ceiling.
Within a two day span, my wondering was addressed by God. I was driving our “shelter” van which is usually driven by my husband and his buddy, Stewart. A chief errand performed in this van is the Cubs’ hotdog pickup after every game. This means people who live on the street, people who live at shelters, and the local half-way house people who are not able to get to the Cubs games or pay $5 a sandwich are able to eat the leftover hotdogs and hamburgers which are still warm! What a funny, off-beat ministry but my husband loves it and so do his many, increasing “Cubs fans.”
As I was parking the van, a half-way house resident approached me on the sidewalk and asked if my husband was getting the hot dogs. I didn’t know him but realized that he recognized the van. I assured him that whenever the Cubs finished the game, the hotdogs would not be long in arriving.
Later that day I drove through McD on the way to work. Another person on the street waved his arms from a short way off as I pulled into the drive-thru. The man ran toward the van. I recognized him as a former resident of our men’s shelter. He didn’t ask about Cubs hotdogs, but again recognized the van. He stood at my window and told me about how he was doing well and was housed. He thanked me for how much the shelter staff had helped him and seemed like he wanted to assure me that it was not lost on him, he was doing well, and intended to stay that way. We said goodbye and I drove off.
I had literally driven about a half block to the next stop sign, when homeless Big Bill, waving his arms, yelled my name across the street where he was sitting on the sidewalk. “Are the Cubs hotdogs here yet?” “Not until the game is over,” I yelled and waved back, smiling as I thought I would not make it to work if I didn’t get out of that van.
Later in the day, I came out of my office at the shelter intending to get back into the van. Directly across the street came an older woman who I had seen around for years. She was slowly pulling a shopping cart having just come from our food bag program.
“You all do a wonderful work,” she stated matter-of-factly, without stopping, but slowly continuing to roll across the street to pass me by. “Thanks,” I responded. “This is a hard job,” came the next sentence, “But you all do it for the Lord,” she pronounced without stopping, just continuing to walk on by. I nodded my head in agreement. “Tell your staff I said that,” as she continued slowly down the street. “A gray haired prophetess with a shopping cart,” I thought to myself, slowly beginning to see the effect our ministry, our programs, our staff, have on people. I could not help but think that she was used by God at that moment to correct my weary thinking. (Two Bible stories come to mind here: the one where the angel visits Abraham in the middle of the day (under a tree?) and they eat together and the angel delivers a message?) The second is when Jonah got mad that no one was listening to him in Ninevah??? I don’t know if it relates.
The next day as I was walking from one of our shelter programs to the other, I ran into Honey. I was very familiar with her through the past few years. She had been a participant of our single women’s program on and off, and on and off. She lived a rough life; in fact the last time I saw her, she had a black eye. I would speak to her whenever I saw her, trying to convince her to get some help. She was one of those people I thought would die in the streets before she would get it together. And here she stood in front of me, housed, and very in her right mind. She said she had been stable for about two years and was involved in the Twelve Step program. She thanked me for the help we gave her when she was in our program. (I thought my words fell on drunken ears.) She spoke of mutual acquaintances we had, and carried on conversation that signified she was settled and serious about maintaining her stable life. I invited her to drop in at the shelter to say hi to the staff and we said goodbye.
The very next block I met Cookie, another former shelter participant. She had also come from one of the roughest backgrounds imaginable. My last few sightings of her on the street were not pretty. She, too, stood in front of me, both housed and holding a job which she was on her way to. Again, we spoke of mutual friends and staff people she knew. She referred back to her past and how far she had come from the person she was. We visited briefly and I encouraged her to keep in touch. She went to her job and I to mine, amazed at the change in both of these women.
I began to add up the encounters over the past two days and thanked the Lord (God) for raising up voices in the streets to confirm the work He is doing through our shelter programs.
Are the hot dogs here yet?
by Sandy Ramsey, CCO Director (posted by Jon Trott)
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