“Oh, no! Where are we going to park?” It’s almost always our biggest problem when TOP heads to DC to serve homeless people. Drive around the block. It will be OK. Well, OK enough. Each of the four vehicles soon ended up with a place to park. Fifteen junior and senior high teens carried coolers to a small plaza next to New York Avenue Presbyterian Church, a stately 19th century structure nestled in a small triangular block of the city.
The teens moved uncertainly, carrying their loads to one of the benches that ringed the edge of the tiny park. Some of the homeless people followed them to partake of the hot dogs, potato chips, brownies, juice, and water. A few of the older teens started conversations, but most of them stood by the coolers, nervously looking around the park and at the ground.
After about 15 awkward minutes, William Daniels, our coordinator for the DC ministry, gathered some of the volunteers and headed down the street toward the White House. Other homeless people dotted the entryways of buildings and wide places in the sidewalk. These are the folks who most often miss meals.
I stayed behind with a group of mostly middle school youth. Their discomfort was still evident. I asked Oliver, a homeless man, to join me at the cluster of teens. He was as nervous as they were. He shared his story about about his struggle with alcohol and drugs. I coaxed him into sharing how he had briefly relapsed after six months of sobriety. The teens listened politely, but remained silent. This was such a new world for them.
About the time Oliver finished his story, Paul, who could pass for Lou Rawl’s brother, walked up to our group.
“Do you know why I stand in front of the mirror with my eyes closed?” he asked. Because I want to see how good I look when I’m asleep.”
Some of the youth laughed. Others rolled their eyes, but I could see the tension melt off their faces. After that, Paul told a string of jokes and stories that got everybody laughing.
William and his crew returned after about 20 minutes on their mission. Everybody at the park had gotten plenty to eat so we offered to pray before we left. I was surprised, because for the first time in 20 years, every homeless person in the park joined us. After the prayer, we exchanged handshakes and hugs and headed down the street toward the entrance to Chinatown.
We soon stopped at a small, grassy park where a handful of homeless people stretched out on the grass or sat on benches. After setting down the coolers, we got to work. Several of the quiet teens reached in the coolers, grabbed food and drinks and walked around the park. They served the homeless people, smiling and looking them in the eye. Some of them even started conversations. Joy and a sense of purpose replaced the discomfort they showed earlier.
I’ll never get tired of seeing that change. Our youth volunteers proved themselves to be young adults, not children, who had the courage to step out of their comfort zones and do something to glorify God. As they loaded into their vans, I knew they would be back.
