unfinished1

On Christmas Day our family was given the opportunity and privilege of volunteering, side-by-side, with others, at a Downtown Baltimore mission – to serve hundreds of homeless folks with a beautiful, hot, cooked dinner: Turkey, Ham, Mashed Potatoes & Gravy, Veggies, Sweet Potatoes, Bread, Cranberry Sauce, and Desert.  By any measure it was a feast.

People poured in while Christmas music played.  They sat at round tables with friends and strangers.  Fortunately on this Christmas Day there was room for them to do so.

Some fell asleep while eating their dinners – undoubtedly they couldn’t afford to close their eyes on the street – so they would eat for a while and then their bodies would betray their hunger as they would nod off.   But I’m glad that on Christmas Day there was room for them to rest their weary bones and lives.

Some entered while still under the influence of foreign substances – who knows – alcohol, drugs – it was something.  But they came in, and when they did, there was a hot meal waiting for them.  In their bodies, and in the hearts of the organizers (Helping Up Mission) there was room for something more on Christmas Day, and someone who didn’t want to hurt or judge them, instead welcomed them.

Wasted years, ugly scars, weathered skin and stories of all kinds of abuse and violence, marked many faces.  Most would never get past square one in job interviews, but on this Christmas Day they were made to feel as though they appeared as angels – and they did – and that this room existed especially for them – and it did.

For a couple hours we shared with complete strangers the very thing Jesus wasn’t afforded when He was born – Room.  Christ had not only had given us a shared space, but He had entered it.  It was a beautiful Christmas Day.

What Good News.

peace.