For several years now, faithful as a trusted friend, a large box has arrived at my home when winter has thrust the streets of the city into the dark and uncompromising grip of winter. 

The box has made its way from the warmth of Kansas City in the United States and is filled with crocheted scarfs, blankets and hats. The letter accompanying it is handwritten by a lady who lives there and asks for the contents to be distributed to those that I meet in ministry on the streets of the city. It always touches my heart to see the love that must go into such a gift from someone who will never meet the recipients, but whose heart is moved with pity just by the thought of the homeless in a far-away place. 

Each year, upon receiving the gift, I call my friend Tracey who is a veteran of many years on the streets and has been “clean” for 20 years. She knows the streets well and works for a social service charitable organization that reaches out to our homeless and low-income people. I met up with her again, and delivered the large box to her, so the contents could be distributed over the coming weeks through her agency. We also took the opportunity to walk the streets again as we did so often when she was first trying to get off drugs. 

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It is remarkable the memories she still has of her life on the streets and the number of her friends we met that evening who are still on the streets after all these years. Our first meeting was with a man who was an addict with her in the early years but now works at a large shelter in the city. It was interesting to hear their reminiscence of the day’s gone by and their path to sobriety. 

As we spoke, a commotion ensued in the shelter, and her friend quickly quelled the fight with gentleness and persistence. When he came back, they both laughed at one another and said that they remembered being at the heart of these altercations many times in the “bad old days” As I stood there, I had tremendous respect for both of them who have come through the wars of the street and emerged with hearts determined to help those now in the midst of the fray. 

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I walked with Tracey towards the other end of the downtown area because I was anxious to introduce her to two ladies I have mentioned before in these columns, and I wanted to introduce her to them. It was a slow and circuitous journey, because on the way we passed at least another six people that she knew from her time on the streets. First it was the “pizza man” who owns the shop on the street and each week when I am alone, he always asks about Tracey. 

They had a great reunion, and you could see the joy in his face as she reminisced and updated him on what it feels like being “clean” for 20 years. As we approached the street where the two ladies were waiting for clients, I updated Tracey on what had happened over the 10 years since I met the first of the two. The lady told me that she was from another country, and having no skills, pursued a life of prostitution. Over the years of knowing her, she has moved from ignoring me, to smiling, to finally asking me to pray and bless her each week when we meet. Recently her sister joined her on the street, and I am getting to know their sad history. 

I introduced Tracey to them, and Tracey said that she was once on the street like them but managed to get a job and housing. I could see the change that came over them. There was an instant respect for Tracey. The “sister” said, “So you know what it is like out here.” With that encouragement, Tracy took over the conversation. 

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“If you need housing let me know. I work for an agency that can help you get housing and help you to get off these streets. I don’t have my business card on me, but I will give Robert two cards, one for each of you when he sees you next week. Give me a call and I will see what I can do to help.” 

And so, the journey of hope continues.