It's a dark image... and it probably should be. This man was laying face down on the concrete when we pulled up to the curb. Getting out of the van I headed over to see if I could help- he appeared to be dead; unconscious, face smashed squarely into the sidewalk, people walking casually by as if he was a potted plant. It took a few minutes to rouse him- but he appeared to be in a dead drunk. It's not uncommon for people to come spend their paychecks at one of the local bars across the street from where we work- get drunk- get rolled- get left behind. I didn't recognize this guy, but once he began to rally a bit and it seemed he would live, I left him on the ground and headed to our work. It's a bit like triage I suspect: check if they're breathing, determine as closely as possible what the problem is, then move on... it took him 10 or 15 minutes, but he eventually got up and walked down the street. When we mentioned calling the police for help, he wanted no part of it. He may not even remember what happened to him. Each Sunday night presents some new opportunity... hopefully, this guys losses weren't too great is alive and back to work today.

"I'll bet you don't remember me!" were the first words out of his mouth. He was right, I didn't. Said he hadn't been in our line for over 15 years. He now has an apartment in one of L.A.s suburbs, a job working in a flower shop, but was hungry last night and decided to ride the bus down to see us. He was shocked at the transition- our "new" corner, the fancy clothes and organized way Bart's team hands them all out and the full, home cooked meal by Jodi and her team. He said, "Man Eric, you guys have really grown." We discussed mutual friends from the old days on the streets... most of them now dead... over and over he kept saying how much they use to look forward to just peanut butter sandwiches, an orange and hopefully a jacket- last night he was treated like a king in comparison to our early years. Then he said something really sweet, he said over the years he's wished he had a poster of Jackets for Jesus. Said how much he's thought about us all... kindly, about me. Laughing it all off, embarrassed, I gave him a hug and thanked him for the trip down memory lane. Then a funny thing started to happen: people coming through line started saying they'd like a picture, they'd like something to put up in their room or to carry in their wallet. Thinking guys were teasing, I kept on shrugging it off until one old friend, a guy who sleeps on the streets, said: "Eric, we're not kidding. I'd like a picture. You guys are the family we have now. We think of you all week long." Funny, to "belong" on skid row. Not something too many of us aspire to when we're young... then God opens a door. Wish you could have been with us to share the moment. Life's good.

No one likes to be left out... I'm guessing it must be one of the most heart breaking aspects of living in homelessness- feeling like life, success, hope and a future are slipping away. People walk by the homeless and try their best not to look- not to catch eyes- not to get involved... involvement means taking action and so few of us know what to do... it's not much different than the man laying face down on the sidewalk Sunday night- the homeless not wanting to get involved. Anyway... I was taking pictures of people in line and the woman in this picture looked at me and said: "Hey! Take a picture of me. Do you only take pictures of guys or something?" I clicked her picture and she stepped up to look at it on my phone. Smiling- I asked her friend if she wanted me to take her picture? Looking at me like I was stupid, the woman, patchy scalp, almost all her hair gone- no clue how it fell out -turned away and walked forward to get a jacket and dinner. It doesn't take long until we get used to being ignored... we even begin to prefer it. It's hard to imagine why anyone would want to take a picture of us. I had a hard time imagining why someone would want a picture of me. We left the streets returning to our families, the safety and love of our homes, even the security and comfort of our van is so much more than those who wait on us experience. The woman with the patchy scalp and her friend slipped away into darkness- one crying out to be acknowledged, the other doing her best to be ignored... both fighting through the private hell of poverty in the heart of LA, living on skid row. Hopefully they'll both be back next Sunday evening, one of these nights we might even bring down a team picture to hand out... you're always invited to join us. You're needed, now, more than ever.

for changing lives,

Eric

PS

We celebrate Christmas on the streets this year Sunday evening, December 23. We're doing backpacks again. If you'd like some, let me know, I'll be ordering them soon. A good friend took 20 or 30 already getting prepared. If you'd like to make a donation to help pay for them- blessings! Set the date aside and join us with your friends and family this year.

email: eric@centralcommunity.com

phone: 1-951-689-5806

web: http://www.centralcommunity.com