30 to 40 people away from the main table, my small task is to regulate the flow of people moving forward, while greeting everyone, keeping a watch over things, until the line can move on it's own and the folks who fight their way to the front have cleared out. It's a small thing, but I've made the most out of the opportunity to mix it up in the middle of the crowd. Sunday night, shooting the breeze with whoever was "up" next, I lost focus on watching forward and soon guys were coming to me saying the same thing: "Think they need you up front." There's only one reason they ever need me near the serving tables: when there's a problem. Looking forward, I kept getting the view that you see in this little snapshot, "all's well." Snapshots can be deceiving. A guy a little older than me, very small in stature and exceedingly drunk, was hidden behind the line and after being fed, was hassling Jodi, interrupting our work, refusing to leave and spewing profanities... "blessed are you when men shall revile you... and say all manner of evil against you, falsely, for my sake. Rejoice and be exceeding glad..." We were at a stalemate: I didn't feel like rejoicing and he didn't want to leave. Shepherding him away from our tables and line, he continued to push his way through me... this went on until it was time for us to leave the streets and it was obvious that his desire to break the peace wouldn't allow us to even pray together. Seeking the assistance of a couple of different guys in the crowd- hoping they might know him -he finally left us... drunk, angry and truth be told, probably just wanting another drink... I couldn't help but think of our servers at the front of the line... they graciously embrace situations like this on a weekly basis and 9 times out of 10 are able to send everyone away feeling a little better about themselves and ready to face the week. This morning, can't get this guys face out of my mind: he reminded me of Popeye. Hopefully he's found his can of spinach and is ready for a new work week... can't imagine how many weeks, years, one could continue the way he was last night. Keep him and us in your prayers.

Ready to leave- Robert rolled up on his bicycle -breathing hard and filled with excuses for his late arrival. Robert's one of the good guys who just can't seem to get it all together. Not making any excuses for their chronic homelessness- no excuse other than poverty -it's just that some people seem to make more of a positive effort towards improvement than others. Robert's been riding the same bike for a couple of years- that means he hasn't sold it for drugs or drink -he's friendly, helpful and usually quick to help out. Just the same, he's caught in the trap of poverty and now in his 50's I doubt that he see's any way out. We've watched him through a bunch of transitions across the years- filthy drunk and just out of the gutter to looking sharp, wearing a suit and carrying his Bible from Sunday night church to our line -the one constant being his inability to get out of poverty, to leave skidrow. I've found myself across the years silently joining the chorus of voices that blames the community of poverty we call skidrow... the one's who believe that if we just "knock it down" the problem will go away. But it's far too simple a solution... if I thought it'd work, I'd be the first one for it... but the thousands of "Robert's" would slip silently into the millions of residents in greater Los Angeles... they'd find new places to sleep... new areas to hang out... a new place to find hope... or something to get them by until hope comes along. Poverty's a mirror of our social/spiritual well being as a people... a nation. Somewhere, when Robert hit his "wall," whatever it was that he's not been able to recover from, we failed him. His being on the street in the middle of the night is not just his problem, it's our problem. We don't pretend to have the answers to all of his issues when we head to the streets on Sunday nights but we're thankful for the opportunity to serve believing that when we are faithful, "God will make a way."

Ione M. Denton: April 24, 1923 - June 3, 2008. Mom was the first to make sandwiches for Jackets for Jesus, over 19 years ago, she was always our greatest partner in prayer, spending many Sunday nights praying into Monday morning until I called and let her know all was well. When I'd write a weekly letter, before the email updates, mom would call each week with a word of encouragement... tell me how proud she was of our work, of me. Letting go of her last Tuesday morning was heart breaking... even knowing her battle had been long- that she'd "fought the good fight, finished the race... remained faithful" knowing she's with The Lord today... it's still been a tough week, to put it mildly. Thanks so much to each of you who were able to be at her funeral- it meant more than I ever imagined to be surrounded in your love and comfort. Thanks also to those of you who've written kind notes of encouragement, you've helped us continue. Finally, thanks to those who've donated to mom's scholarship fund for orphans from other nations. Mom spent much of her career working with International Students at CSULB, doing her best to help them achieve their goals. She will be missed. Last night on the streets men and women who live in abject poverty extended the wealth of their love and comfort in warm embraces and let me know our family was in their prayers. God is too good. I can honestly say that not once in my life was I ashamed of the words or actions of my mom. She gave herself completely in love and we have so much to be thankful for... that includes being thankful for a large, extended support group of people like you. May God richly bless you for your kindness in our time of loss. May it always be remembered. Jackets for Jesus has required the support of thousands of people across the years- it would have been nearly impossible without mom -so many have been touched because of her constant reminder to "do the right thing." Know that I'm praying for you and your family today- for all those who've helped Jackets for Jesus continue to go into the darkness in love and service. Pray that God would continue to bless our work. Remember that you're always invited. We're going this Sunday night, you're needed, now, more than ever.