A couple weeks ago James and I went to the Kansas City Rescue Mission (KCRM) to help distribute clothing. Although many of our friends have been volunteered at KCRM, we have never gone. James and I had the job of taking clothing orders. Throughout the course of the evening we each talked to over 20 men. "I need a pair of socks, jeans 32/32, an XL t-shirt and underwear." I heard variations on that list twenty times. "Do you have any long johns?" "No, not yet."
Between writing down orders thoughts were racing through my head. What is this man's story? How do you get to a place in life where you're asking a stranger for size 34 underwear? Where can I come up with about an extra $200 to buy a whole bunch of warm clothes for these guys?
My heart just broke for those men. I can't imagine only having a few outfits that I carry around in a backpack. I can't imagine having no one to go to for help. I've been letting the experience roll around in my head for close to a month now. James and I have collected a few bags of clothes to donate from our friends. When we dropped them off, I recognized several faces. These guys are always there. They're actually homeless. I just can't wrap my mind around that kind of life. I'm searching for a way to make a difference.
And then I look around my house. It's a comfortable 70 degrees as I sit on my couch and look at my Christmas tree. I have a soft bed and a separate bedroom for each of my kids. I don't necessarily think it's wrong for me to have my house in Lee's Summit but I do think that God has called me to give whatever I have, perhaps even more than I can spare.
I don't really know how to wrap up this post. I don't have all the answers...
