It's not my problem

This has been an emotional week or two. The kind of emotional that drains you and makes you wish you could stay in bed for a week. But Christmas is just around the corner, and I have too much to do to stay in bed. And for that, I'm kind of grateful.

Last weekend, a friend called to ask for help. She wanted me to help make Christmas happen for her daughter. She's about to be evicted from her apartment, she can't pay her utility bill, and they're barely eating. But all she wanted was for me to make sure her little girl had a Christmas.

I've never even been close to homeless. We've been nearly broke before. But nearly broke for us meant transferring some money from our savings account to the checking account before we paid some bills. I am blessed beyond what I deserve. I grew up in a family that took money management very seriously. And I am married to a man who is very good with money.

And I totally take it for granted.

I've always viewed homelessness as someone else's problem. I know how that sounds, but I'm just being honest. And if you're honest, most people reading this have felt the same way.

When I see a man on the street corner holding a sign, I'm hesitant to give. What if he uses the money I give him to buy alcohol or cigarettes? Then haven't I just enabled him? I think to myself, "Why doesn't he just get a job?" Or "Doesn't he know that if he just stopped buying cigarettes, he could afford an apartment?"

But I don't know his story. I don't know why he's standing there. I don't know the (probably heartbreaking) circumstances that led him to the miserable place where he must beg just to eat. And what I'm learning is that everyone has a story. Every homeless person has a story.

So when my friend called to ask for help, I was honored and humbled. I know it took a ton of courage for her to make that call. But she swallowed her pride and did it out of love for her daughter. And my mother's heart can understand that much.

I made some calls, and a few Godly friends helped make her Christmas a little more bearable. But what she'll never know is the impact she's had on my life. She asked for help. And in asking for help, she made me part of her story.

I will never see another homeless person without thinking of her and her daughter. I don't know what God has planned for me ministry-wise, but I can't help but believe that He has a role for me in some sort of homelessness prevention ministry. He's priming me for it.

He's touched my heart through her, and I'm coming to understand that when the proverb says "the righteous care about justice for the poor", it means that He intends for us to make it our problem.