If you don’t know what to say

homeless-count-huntsville

I’m never quite sure what to say.

I don’t know what to say this Saturday morning either when I walk up to their makeshift table shaded under the overpass where they are eating biscuits and white gravy and ham brought to them by another group of Christ-followers and eating hot Krispy Kreme donuts brought to them by the group in our van.

I ask a question or two to get us going, nothing important, just chit-chat stuff, like conversations I would have every day with people who live under bridges and sleep in tents every night.

Except that I don’t have those conversations every day because until a year ago I couldn’t have even called one person by name who lived without a working refrigerator and who did all their cooking unplugged and who didn’t use a real toilet one more time before turning out the lights at night.

So when I don’t know what to say, I don’t say much and I just listen more to what somebody else has to say.

Today the Lord was giving me ears for Kristi’s voice. 

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