Homeless

For some unknown reason, my husband, Kory, likes to engage in conversation with homeless people.  He finds them fascinating and he always wants to know their story.  Where most people shy away, he dives in.

Twenty-six years ago Kory was managing a small apartment building his mother owned in Seattle.  He rented one of the units to a homeless guy who had just turned his life around.  Otto was a Vietnam vet and former Marine who’d lived on the streets for years, but managed to get a job in the very homeless shelter where he’d found warmth and comfort on many cold nights.  It was a risk, renting to someone with such a sketchy past, but Kory felt he was giving the guy a break he deserved.

When Kory’s mother died and we bought that apartment building from her estate, Otto was still living there and continued to live there until he died just last week.  We always kept his rent low, knowing his resources were limited.  It was Kory’s way of helping the guy out.  Otto was one of the most faithful tenants we’ve ever had.  Every month, for twenty-six years, he paid his rent a week early, he never complained about a thing, and always sent thank-you notes when we did anything special for him.  I never would have predicted any of that.

We’ve volunteered a few times to serve meals to the homeless at Friendship House in Mount Vernon, but were always so busy with the work, there wasn’t much time to chat, so when Kory found out that Christ the King Church feeds the homeless twice a week, he jumped at the opportunity to go engage in conversation with the locals.  He also wanted to make himself available to pray for anyone that felt the need for inviting God’s help into their situation.

Not sure what to expect, I went him and was very humbled by the experience, especially when one guy asked us to pray that he would find a sleeping bag, since the weather had turned so cold and all he had were two blankets, which weren’t enough to keep him warm.   After Kory prayed for the guy, he got to be the answer to that very prayer when he rushed home to pick up one of our sleeping bags to give to him.  Such a small thing for us to give, but a big thing for that guy to receive.

That night, when Kory and I crawled into our very comfy bed, sleeping between warm flannel sheets and resting our heads on soft down pillows, we couldn’t stop thinking about that man, curled up somewhere on the streets of Mount Vernon, hopefully a little warmer that night than the one before, but certainly not enjoying the comfortable night’s sleep we had.  We both gave God an extra shout out of thanks for something we all too often take for granted – the comforts and safety of our home.

I’ve been extra thankful this past week for even just the littlest of things.  One homeless man in Mount Vernon taught me that.

I’ve always loved the saying, “What if I woke up today with just the things I thanked God for yesterday?”  It’s good to be thankful.