Two Saturdays ago, I went for the first time with my friend M to pass out food to the homeless outside a local homeless shelter. It's an informal, early morning thing. (I don't generally embrace the early morning). M and his friends bring the food that is left over from the week at the recovery center where he lives, and for which I work, and passes it out to people leaving the homeless shelter on Saturday mornings. Another church group showed up with sack lunches and some coffee. M lead a devotional. One of the homeless prayed. We also brought coats and socks from my store. Afterward, back to tent city to pass out some more necessities and then to breakfast as a group. I was feeling a bit of a spiritual high.
Unfortunately, it was while I was at breakfast that I got the call from Sarah about her friend Kaitlyn being in a horrific car accident the night before... so I gave my bill and money to M, asked him to pray, and left in tears... anxious to get to Sarah and to Kaitlyn. Spiritual highs are often fragile things.
Many are praying. Her friends have raised a tremendous amount of money to help the family with expenses. One teenage boy at Sarah's church gave $50 out of his own pocket. I see God at work in this situation. In his kingdom. Using his people to reach out to this family. And to heal Kaitlyn.
But it has been so hard. A visit from my parents was so nice, but then they had to leave and I got bronchitis (again) and, well... life is getting me down. I'm just going to be honest. It's a rough time.