19 years working on skid row and I've known Smokey for most of them. He's been "gone" for the last 19 months, we've heard rumors of sober living... of jail... of death... but all we knew was one night he was suddenly gone, never to come back. Last night, while working the line, I felt a hand on my shoulder... someone had my back, without me knowing it... whipping around, there was Smokey. Smokey prepared the streets for our coming for years- we'd arrive on Main St. and he'd have our lane of traffic blocked with huge orange cones (probably commandeered from a city work site) just as if we had a permit to carry out a parade. When I handed out all the food and jackets- men would get out of control, come up behind me... sometimes taking everything by violence... one night a man held me at knife point, slipping the blade under my shirt while I wasn't watching... we learned to work assuming that everyone had a weapon... Smokey learned to watch my back: for years, week in and week out as we worked, Smokey stood just behind me... no glory... quick to send violence away with a cautious word to the wise. We became tight. Then he was gone. Hugging him, I could see something was different. I asked: "Are you sober?" He said: "Eric, I just got sick and tired of being sick and tired." A familiar chant when someone finally hits bottom. He's 19 months clean and sober and starting to find his way back towards old friends he trusts and facing some of his old familiar haunts. Pray for Smokey. He's spent the majority of his adult life on skidrow... it's what he knows... and now he's trying to face it clean and sober... no small task from the heart of poverty. He's one of millions across our country... around the world... he's one we know, one we can help, a friend. He says he'll be back next Sunday night- can't help but wonder what he'll do until then. Keep him in your prayers.

12 Children! That's the youngest in her arms, her oldest, a 16 year old is applying for college and hopes to be the first in their family to attend. Mom and all 12 kids were on the streets last night, they didn't want a meal- they'd eaten at home -then they all piled into their old car, driving out with high hopes. Mom pulled me aside and said they'd all used up their backpacks from the Christmas party and had come for more. Telling her that we only gave them out at Christmas shocked her- she said: "I thought you had them every week! We drove all the way from Chatsworth." A pretty good drive with 12 kids and no where near enough seat belts. Telling me her story, I had the opportunity to hold her newest- named Fantasia - "Just like on American Idol!" Chat with her 16 year old, dancing around begging for me to take her picture and try to be cool with all her boys- on skateboards -and way too cool to give an old guy like me the time of day. Mom's name is Ruby and she asked me if I remembered praying for her at Christmas, I didn't. She'd had a heart attack, spent a week in the hospital while her sister watched her kids, and now healing, the doctor's have told her the kids are putting too much stress on her weakened heart, with plaintive eyes she asked: "How can I help that?" We prayed together again. I told her we'd continue to pray for her, and then I took off my down jacket and helped her slip into it. 12 children watched as their mom got that look on her face... that Homer Simpson look... "Donuts..." They ran to the car, excited. I wondered how long mom would get to keep the jacket. Moms, they're the best. This one woman and her children represent so many families who barely make it week to week. Driving home, smiling to myself, I was thankful her family had made it through the last month with backpacks and whispered a silent prayer that maybe some day we can have a backpack anytime anyone needs a pack. There's more than enough wealth in America that no family should have to be on skidrow in the middle of the night. Pray for Ruby, her health and her children.

"I Have a Dream!" Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s speech was one of the first to hit the internet when Apple made a digital version of it. Hundreds of millions will watch it again today as our nation celebrates the life and legacy of this great American. Hearts cry out for equality, peace and hope that will guide our children and our children's children. Poverty, addiction and the vestiges of racism still plague our society like a malignant cancer refusing to be held at bay, moving at will through families and communities, taking victims into the darkness... shattering hopes and homes. "I have a dream..." can be words that empower us to work for a better world, to step into skidrow in faith believing, to make friends with people in poverty, to give willingly, to share a jacket in the darkness. Last night 15 of us jammed the van to serve on the streets. To say that we're a diverse group is being generous... but something holds us together... pushes us out of our warm homes and into the night to serve... maybe it's a dream... that it doesn't have to be this way. A mom of 12 doesn't have to fight through the health failure that could leave her children homeless, alone, without a jacket. That a man, sleeping in a parking lot and fighting addiction can find sobriety and a better life. That we don't have to seek our only shelter and solace in television, a comfortable couch and whatever it is that keeps us "happy." We have fun on Sunday nights. I'm quite certain it's where God wants us to be. I have a dream... that maybe someday you'll join us... you'll bring your own distinct perspective and ability to love and lift up those who are fighting just to survive. We're going next Sunday night, you're invited... you're needed, now, more than ever.

for changing lives,

Eric M. Denton

PS

Continue to pray for our friends in Kenya. Last night, driving home from the streets, I called two friends to check on their safety. One, a Massai pastor, was herding his cattle, the wind was blowing through the tall grass and the sound of cow bells could be heard clearly through the cell phone. He said his area was cooling down. The other, was driving through Nairobi, it was loud and the sounds we're hard to figure out... maybe shouting... he had to get off the phone... he said: "It's not safe at all right now. I have to go." And the call ended. Keep them all in your prayers.