Dominoes

Who would've thought that such a simple game of dominoes could mean so much? In Philadelphia this past week, one of the ministries I got the opportunity to work with was a branch of the Bethesda Project, called Our Brother's Place. A shelter where homeless men can stay permanently, eat regular meals, get new clothes, and take showers or can come just momentarily for lunch, Our Brother's Place is the home of William. He probably impacted me the most this week. When we first arrived at OBP, I have to admit that I was scared. I mean, I was supposed to go talk to homeless black men from downtown Philly! But I came to discover that they aren't scary at all: they're normal human beings, with names, stories, and the desire for companionship. Once we got a tour of OBP, we pulled out a bunch of games and started to play each other. Not ten minutes later, several men had curiously wandered over and began to watch. Eventually, I found myself playing game after game of dominoes with William and some of my teammates. Who would've thought that serving in a homeless shelter would yield hours of teasing and comeraderie among us?

William is probably in his fifties, with neat clothes and an easy going laugh. We got to visit with him twice this past week. Before we left the second day, he broke my heart. He asked, "When will you be coming back?" Of course, we had to tell him that that was our last day at OBP and that the next day we would move on to St. John's, a feeding ministry. He was familiar with St. John's and assured us that he would go the next day so he could see us. True to his word, the very next day as I was passing out brownies, who was next in line but Willy?! I was a little disappointed that I didn't get to see him after our brief (but energetic and fulfilling) conversation while he was in line for his lunch.

William touched me in a way that I didn't expect.  He opened my eyes to the fact that homeless people aren't just "homeless." They are William. They have names. Further, they're similar to me and appreciate companionship. Not all of them are on the street because they are some gang member or drug dealer. I'm not sure of what Willy's story is, but he was incredibly kind to me, clean, and definitely not some detestable person to avoid. William also taught me a lesson in simplicity. All I did was play a childish game with him, and it made his day. How many times have I failed to love others simply because I thought that the considered act wasn't enough?

So I think meeting William did far more for me than it did for him. It completely changed my perspective on the homeless and taught me the importance of the simply things. Along those same lines, he taught me to appreciate the little things. Here was a man with no home, not many friends, and not even a reliable source of food, yet he laughed at anything suggesting humor and smiled at anything remotely happy. I hope that I always remember that. I hope I remember to appreciate the little things and be ever so grateful for the provision I have been abundantly blessed with.

Thank you so much, Lord, for putting William into my life. I pray that you would sear him on my heart and that I would never forget the needs of others or the necessity of loving people. Help me to be thankful for all that You have so faithfully provided me with. I pray that You would provide a way out of homelessness for William and that he would continue to bless others like he blessed me. Amen.