Another holiday has come and gone, and for many on the streets it was just a reminder that life, with its twists and turns, had taken them down a road they'd never planned on traveling.
I know there are many men and women out there who will tell you they are right where they want to be. No drama, no rules, no hassle....
But in all of my years of teaching, I never had one student write an essay detailing aspirations of being a homeless person when they grew up.
It just wasn't in the plan, regardless of what they say now.
That is never more evident than on a holiday.
My husband and I decided that we were going to cook and bring plates out this year. We'd taken leftover plates out last year and realized the need for spiritual food as well.
We decided to wait until mid-afternoon since there were a few organizations feeding a noonday lunch.
There weren't as many people roaming by then, but we found a few and shared plates of turkey, dressing, and homemade fudge. We shared encouragement and prayed with them, hoping to be "family" to those without any.
We brought the remaining plates to local stores whose employees missed their own family meals.
We came home and enjoyed our own Thanksgiving meal by candlelight, my reward for cooking and serving others first.
On Friday morning we took out bags of turkey sandwiches, drinks, and more fudge.
We saw many still teeming with the hurt and agony that accompanies a holiday.
Family is first on their minds, and their lips, detailing numbers of kids and grandkids, or sharing childhood stories as if it were yesterday.
There's no place like home for the holidays, and for those without a home, the pain of having lost their families is more than they can bear.
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