Ode to Karen and our other homeless friends

This morning I found out one of our homeless friends died on the street on Wednesday night.  Karen was a tall, handsome woman.  She was kind and patient.  She was a good listener and took an interest in others.  She never complained and smiled often.  The last time the kids and I saw her was three weeks ago.  I was talking to another homeless lady and lost track of the kids.  When I found them, they were jumping with glee on Karen's mattress.  I tried to yank them off her bed, but she insisted on letting them play.  She assured me she loved children, in particular Claire and Paul. 

Claire, Paul, and I are very active at Room In the Inn, the homeless ministry at our church.  Every Thursday night during the coldest and hottest nights of the year, our church opens its doors to twelve women without homes.  Homeless shelters are the fullest during these months and while the weather is the most dangerous for sleeping outside, it's also the time when people are turned away because of overcrowding shelters.

Many people work to make sure our guests are comfortable when they stay at our church.  Volunteers assemble toiletry bags, set up mattresses, put tablecloths on tables and prepare meals.  It's a lot of work.  When our church started Room In the Inn, I volunteered for every post that was available.  I wanted to be a part of this important ministry and help out where needed.  It was one of my homeless friends that taught me a lesson about that.  One day I was especially frazzled making sure everything was perfect and she said, "You know, you can just sit down and visit.  You don't have to do it all yourself."  From that day on, I have remembered what Terry said.  I sign up for food if it's needed, but otherwise, the kids and I just show up to visit with our friends.  Sometimes we bring snacks, sometimes we don't.  We always sit and talk.

I have been immeasurably blessed by connecting with these ladies.  I have found so much in common with them; they too worry about money and search for sales.  Most of them are mothers and offer memories of their own children.  They laugh at the kids and permit them to climb in their laps and jump on their mattresses on the floor.  They are the best huggers.  Though they don't have access to a kitchen, they love discussing food and food preparation.  I too, love to cook.

Some days I feel worried or depressed about whatever problem is on my mind.  Talking to a woman that's homeless puts things in perspective for me.  So what if my house is cluttered?  I have one.  So what if I can't keep the laundry caught up?  Everyone in my family has nice clothing and I have a working washer and dryer.  So what if I get tired from running errands?  I have a nice car to take me and money to buy groceries with.  So what if my kids are hyper and driving me crazy after a glass of lemonade?  They live with my husband and I, not across town with someone else.  I don't have the latest fashions, but I have clothing.  I have friends that love me.  I have a home with a heater and a nice bed in a quiet house instead of a giant room with hundreds of people on mats.  I am blessed and I have no right to complain.

The best lessons I learn from my homeless friends are the ones they don't know they are teaching me.  A hug from a friend who hasn't had access to a shower in a week reminds me of my own hot shower.  Requests for simple items like razors or flip flops remind me I never have to ask for what I need.  Compliments on good food remind me to appreciate the food at my house.

Karen, I don't know your story or even  your last name, but my family loved you.  You were a friend to all of us.  May you rest in peace.