Jodi and her team prepared a beautiful meal for the evening. Planning for a larger crowd- end of the month and support checks, for those who receive them, long spent -instead of going cheap- they sauteed beef and onions all afternoon in a wonderful selection of spices, added it to pasta in our large roasting pans- tossed in whatever else made it so good and kept it in the oven until we headed out. I had a bowl of it for dinner before we left and let Jodi know that if she only mixed in some sour cream it would be beef stroganoff... I should have just told her how good it was! I soon learned all about why it didn't need sour cream and the differences between what she'd made and beef stroganoff - what do I know? We laughed about what I'd call the dish when we got to the streets- it was dubbed "almost stroganoff." Nobody cared what I'd called it, everyone agreed that it was delicious. A warm helping of pasta and meat, fresh fruit salad, vegetables and a roll to go with sandwiches, fruit and a snack of candy could have been plates filled with cash the way everyone in line treated it. One of our regulars, who made it through line twice, had stashed a full plate into a Jackets for Jesus bag to join our circle of prayer at the end of the evening. Picking it up from the bench it rested on, the plate shifted, slipped out of the bag, and the final serving of the evening hit the sidewalk. It was his meal for Monday. He stood over it for a moment as if in shock, possibly hoping to reverse the slip that cost him so much. Then, in resignation, he began to put his other things away, forced to leave dinner on the ground. I couldn't help but wonder how many things in life had slipped away from him so quickly and now, living on the street, in resignation, he'd learned to let go of the things we hold dear. Suddenly, a plate of "almost stroganoff" took on dimensions of grief and loss that most in America never face. I wanted to reach out and hug him... but I knew it wasn't the right moment... so I told him how sorry I was and watched him walk into the night.

Hard rain and the sound of gunfire greeted us last week. This week, after an amazing few days of warm weather, we were greeted by smiling faces and old friends glad to have the rainfall behind them and ready to have a little time to hang out in peace. Throughout the day, the homeless often stand on street corners, some may beg at stop lights while others sell nick knacks to raise funds. None of this behavior seems normal in a society where most of us are known for our work, our wealth and our social standing. All of those social structures exist on skid row... but they're overlooked by "normal" society. The homeless have to do something out of the ordinary for people to notice them because we don't want to see them. We don't want them in our neighborhood and if we roll up to a stop light and someone dirty, unkempt, possibly homeless, living in poverty is nearby, we're more likely to lock our doors then to look up, lock eyes and say "Hello." Because we ignore them, it doesn't mean they don't exist. Their poverty says more about "us" as a community then about "them" as individuals. Jesus said we'd always have the poor among us. He knew us. We have a hard time holding onto fellowship within our families, our circle of friends, much less reaching out to build the greater community founded in the love of God. People living in poverty stand on corners because no one wants to be overlooked. It hurts to live as if no one notices. It's why we're welcomed in love each Sunday evening... because we take the time to stop. No one deserves to be ignored.

An ocean of remorse washed over me as we left the streets. Debi and I had been at Siempre's auction the night before and she had bid and won a weekend away for just $200- that she gifted to a young couple we love- they deserved it, we could afford it and the money goes to building the new work at our children's home. She'd moved with her heart. I couldn't get the dad on skid row- keeping his precious daughter with him for the week -off my mind. I had asked her, "What are you going to do with your dad this week?" And immediately slipping into my middle class mind set, expecting to hear: "He's taking me to Disneyland!" or some other big promise that we like to make as dads. She said, "He's going to show me the stores!" Eyes wide, as if she'd been promised Disneyland. Looking up, he half smiled, cocked his head to one side and gave me a look of sadness like: "It is what it is." Then I let them leave in the dark without giving him a dime. I have a firm rule: "We don't give money." But I also have a daughter. I remember when she was just 4 and I wanted to give her the whole world. I could see that this dad wanted as much for his little girl. Getting into the van, I told everyone how bad I felt, someone, I'm not sure who, said: "It's not too late. We could probably still find them!" So we took off, in the middle of the night, in pursuit of father and child as I dug into my wallet and pulled out my last $20- Soon, money was coming forward from everyone in the van. We found them, Dad holding hands with his little girl, walking back to wherever they sleep, an apartment, or at least a skid row hotel, I hope... I don't know... hopefully not the street... I jumped out and stuck the cash in his sweatshirt pocket. Told him to do something fun with his kid. Tears welled up in his eyes as he tried to thank me- I was hustling back to the van- filled with gratitude to God for letting me work with so many great people. Wishing I'd had enough money to get them to Disneyland for a day or had been bold enough to invite them both to our home for the night. Debi loves Disneyland and she would have gladly taken them.

Fundraising for Jackets for Jesus has never been a problem for me. Every penny goes right to what we do. And when there's not enough for something special, like a little girl, visiting her dad in his poverty, the team opens their own wallets and takes care of the need. We only wish we'd had more and I only wish I'd had the presence of mind to do more. God is so good. Good things happen every week. You're invited to join us this Sunday evening, you're needed, now, more than ever,

for changing lives,

Eric

email: eric@centralcommunity.com

phone: 1-951-689-5806

web: http://www.centralcommunity.com