a face in the crowd... I've never known his name. He smiles softly, waits quietly, as if he hopes no one notices that he's waiting for a free meal. Always pleasant, rarely speaks more than a word or two... last night, he was put on the spot... another man in line singled him out and said: "Eric, doesn't he come down here with you? Isn't he part of your team?" Stepping forward- after months of just seeing him in line -I introduced myself to him: "Gabriel, my name's Gabriel." Listening to his story, even after hearing 20 years of stories of men and women on the streets, amazed that I could still be surprised, he said: "I'm a bio-chemist. I studied and moved to the US from Panama- but grew up in Brazil." "Yes, I'm fluent in Portuguese, Spanish and English. I came here following a major job. Found a place to live over on Pico. Then I was laid off. Now I'm only offered work as a medical technician... the money barely pays my rent. Finding your line has meant so much to me." His quiet voice nearly drowned out by traffic and the voices of others, when he was done talking, it was hard to know what to say. "I'm sorry? How are you surviving? Thanks for trusting us?" He moves through line silently... now I realize he's probably been afraid... hoping to make it back to the other end of the city safely. Brazil, Panama... the hope of experiencing "the American dream..." now his personal nightmare... as he moves quietly through skid row on Sunday nights, waiting for a meal. Everyone has a story. It'd be a treat for each of us to know each other's dreams, hard work, heart break... think we'd be so much kinder to one another. Parting ways with Gabriel- just in his 30's -wondered what his calls home to family sounded like. I'm guessing he leaves us out of them. Who wants to tell mom and dad about long lines in the darkness waiting for a meal at the end of a long day, a long week, a long nightmare... keep Gabriel in your prayers... his broken dreams represent those of so many in the heart of our city. He's so much more- each man and woman -is so much more than just another face in the crowd.

So many come through line with a friend. It's the best way to navigate tough times- anytime -in life... with a friend. A guy in his 20's, he's become a regular, came through Sunday night alone. He's alone much of the time. Small day pack stuffed with all his worldly belongings, a blanket rolled up and strapped to the bottom, sweatshirt on against the cooling night air, a welcome smile as he reached out to embrace me, I asked his story. "I sleep on the street. Stay away from trouble. Spend weekdays in Santa Monica." Not a bad spot to hang out- I asked if he went there because of the beach or just to get out of the city? He said: "I'm in school. Every day. I'm not giving up. Just because I'm sleeping on the streets doesn't mean I've quit. I'm going to make it. I'm not giving up!" Totally inspired, reaching out to hug him, asked his name and if I could pray for him this week. Sometimes people look a little confused when I ask if I can pray for them so I always do the same thing: "Could you pray for me this week? I could really use it." It's true. I can always use your prayers. His eyes went serious, his smile flashed consent- he said: "Absolutely! I'll pray for you every day. I promise. Please, pray for me." Totally humbled, we shook hands and he stepped forward for a meal. This morning he's been in my prayers... but I've already forgotten his name... feel lousy about it... so part of my prayer has been for me- that God would help me remember his name. But God hasn't forgotten. He knows our names... and when I pray He knows exactly who I'm praying for... don't have a picture of the guy- but his face is firmly in my mind's eye. Securely in The Hand of God- "His Eye is on the sparrow" -He definitely has a heart for people who refuse to quit when the world knocks them down. Join me in praying for the hopes and dreams of this brother on the streets. He hasn't quit. He won't give up. What a gift to share his story with our prayers. Let's not quit.

Third in line for seconds, Jaimie's normally somewhere near the front of the line. In his 60's, a character if ever there was one, able to yell at people around him in a couple of languages and quick to seek the best of whatever we bring each week- he's taken ownership in our work -part of what we do belongs to him... in his mind. Each week he asks me to make a phone call for him- usually to a family member in South America -this week it was a niece in Ecuador. Her names Jakamina. Jaimie had been talking for almost ten minutes when I gave him the "let's wrap up the call, you're costing big bucks sign." Instead of hanging up, he handed me the phone and said: "She wants to talk to you." I listened as a middle aged woman in Ecuador told me about an upcoming surgery, a new job possibility, as she shared her heart from half way across the planet. I asked if she wanted to pray? Suddenly, standing in the darkness on the streets of Los Angeles, connected by Christ, we prayed... beautifully, we prayed... hanging up the phone, I was briefly touched by the miracle. People like you have seen the need for the phone on the streets for nearly 18 years... a way for people lost in the heart of skidrow to make contact, take that first step towards home... now reaching around the world in prayer as God continues to use Jackets for Jesus in unexpected ways. Proud uncle, Jaimie thanked me for praying with his niece... I quietly prayed as we wrapped up another night together... one thought firmly moving through me: God is too good... Good beyond understanding. So many good things are happening on Sunday nights. You're invited. We'll save a place in the van. You're needed, now, more than ever. You can share the blessing.

for changing lives,

Eric M. Denton