Walking and the homeless….

As I walk on the beautiful American River bike trail most mornings, I see uncountable homeless families staying in tents along the river bank.  My heart goes out to them, especially to the children and the elderly.  Last Wednesday I counted over 150 tents.  And there I was walking, holding a very nice water bottle and keeping my distance as if they were going to hurt me.  How absurd is that?

Walking is supposed to ease my pain, not add to it, I thought.  I could not help but had my eyes and heart opened by the plight of these folks and families down on their luck.  So many are hurting in so many ways.  The beautiful scenery of the river is compromised by the shivering adults and children I witnessed.

It would be inhumane to do nothing.  Yet what can I do?  These folks have their daily routine down to a science: big brunch at Loaves and Fishes and then shower, children go to Mustard Seed School for the homeless where they are fed again, and dinner is up for grabs.  Most of them have an address with the county welfare office so they can receive food stamps (it comes like a credit card now) to buy additional food and other needed items.

I understand my limitations yet I decided to do what I can, in the capacity that would allow me to be charitable without risking my own safety.  My church has a food closet that serves thousands of people every month.  The South Sacramento Interfaith Partnership Food Closet opens for 3 hours a day and is run by mostly volunteers.  The mission of this organization is not for the homeless but is geared towards the marginalized folks who live in homes and have addresses but do not not enough money to buy all needed food for their families at times.

I donated 200 pounds of potatoes 2 days before Thanksgiving--it was like a drop in a bucket.  I felt so helpless because I wanted all of them to have plenty yet reality was different…..

I learned something in the last a couple of weeks as the weather has turned cold at night and in the early morning.  I am blessed because I can eat all the food I want, I have a beautiful and warm house, and I don't lack anything.  I walk to fight pain and yet I saw another type of pain.  The pain of the rawness and bleakness of the homeless and all the complications that go with it.

As I continue to walk, I hope my soul would remain open and be vigilant to the people I encounter.  There are more than my own pain and my own endorphins.  There are the misfortune and challenging survival of many whose pain I have yet to know.