A place for Christmas: that's what he said as he showed me the tiny seedling in a plastic container. He's one of our regulars and recently shared in a community program to begin this tiny California Redwood and he was waxing poetic over watching the giant sequoia grow across the years. He'd even picked a place in his favorite downtown park where he was headed that evening to plant the tiny thing and told me that soon we could spend Christmas together beneath it... for years to come. Hope, it's a rare commodity on skid row: if it grows with a tiny tree, held in giant hands, well worn by poverty, so be it, every tree tells a story. Most Giant Sequoias are much older then most of California's residents, they were planted by The Hand of God. God's using this little tree to give a friend hope, a Christmas dream. He's too good.

The same shirt- colorful, loud and a keepsake if it survives the streets, was worn by a couple of different guys Sunday night. Even in a huge crowd, people were making fun of the fact that they somehow had the same wild shirt. I tried to get a picture of this guy and was reminded that my little phone/camera's not always a welcome sight as he covered his face with one of our quickly disappearing bags. Laughing, I told him I'd delete the photo- he then stepped up and said: "No, take my picture, I'm not afraid of anything." We smiled, I clicked off this shot, showed it to he and his buddies. He said, "Can I get a copy of that? I don't have a good picture of myself." Most of us avoid cameras for completely different reasons then people living in poverty. The trust level that's allowed the little phone/camera to be used openly on the streets has been a blessing. I told this guy to go to the public library, get online and get an email account, gave him my email address and told him I'd email the photo. A woman further back in the line stepped forward and said: "He'll do it! He emailed my pictures to me last month." Simple photos. So many steps to get one that a person feels comfortable with... one that's not going to be hanging in a post office or used against them as a weapon. Just a face in the crowd... but longing to be recognized as an individual... one who wants to stand out for all the right reasons. Every one in line is some mom's kid who still hopes to get it right.

One of our biggest crowds of the year enjoyed Jodi's lasagna. Guys walking through line talked about their favorite "Jodi Dinners." Lasagna is near or at the top for most and that made last night a very good night. We take the peace of our line for granted. People wait... some for a very long time... others do their best to abuse the line... but most suffer the trouble makers, are gracious and thankful for all they receive and best of all quick to build friendships. Pulling onto the streets it was easy to see we were going to be busy, we had no clue that the most challenging part of our evening would come as we pulled into the church parking lot after a great night together. Walking from the church office, where I turn off the alarm every Sunday night, coming back to the van, I heard the squeal of brakes and looked up just in time to watch one of the young employees from Taco Bell, walking home from a late shift, get hit by an SUV that never had a chance to brake. He flew over 40 feet through the air before landing against the curb. Running to the scene, punching out 911 as I went, whispering a quiet prayer, my heart sank at the prospect of what lay ahead. Stunned, drivers got out, to survey the situation... it was beyond belief... the young man, hit by the car that failed to brake- moving nearly 50 mph -was sitting up in the street, asking what had happened to him. Paramedics and police arrived- accounts were given -the kid from Taco Bell recognized me and thanked me for being there as they took him to the hospital and then, within 25 minutes, everyone was gone. It seemed surreal. One minute he was in the cross walk, messing with his ipod, the next on the asphalt surrounded by strangers, then gone... the streets quiet as if nothing had happened. I couldn't sleep. I kept wondering how the kid was - his name is Eric - he was still wearing his Taco Bell name tag. Keep him in your prayers today, no telling what was broken wear we couldn't see. Pray for all our workers- week in and week out we're in the middle of things the rest of the world sleeps through... some of them keep us awake... sometimes the streets are the easy part. Every week, it's good to be in the middle of it all- it'd be great to have you join us -you're needed, now, more then ever.

for changing lives,

Eric

email: eric@centralcommunity.com

phone: 1-951-689-5806

web: http://www.centralcommunity.com