D & J

In a few moments, after Ilse wakes up, I will be picking up two friends and taking them to a food bank where they can pick up a box of groceries. Both suffer from illness, mental and physical, and are newly recovering addicts. Trying to carry on a conversation with them is like having the TV and radio on while reading a book, cooking, and exercising: their attention spans are limited and they each dart in different directions from topic to unrelated topic. Sometimes they're cheery and excited about everything, other times despondent and hopeless. Every time you see them some new drama is unfolding, and their oft-repeated stories and memories shift and change direction, making them seem like either liars or just plain confused. They wear the same clothes every day. They are estranged from their families. They are unemployed.

But they are sweet and charming. They are eager to please and eager to be of service. They are hilarious! They have wonderful senses of humor, and considering their lives, I am thoroughly amazed. It makes me happy to know that in this huge, unfriendly city these two have found our little community and feel welcome and accepted. Such a feeling of longing and a desire to be loved emanates from them, yet their skin is thick: their choice of lifestyle often leaves them feeling alienated, even despised, and so they quietly slip out and search for a new community to join.

They are almost precious to me, though the words sound strange as I'm typing them. I want to do everything I can to help them become healthy emotionally, spiritually, and physically. Caution is needed, I've been burned before; there are no Pollyanna endings. But I believe that people are called to service and drawn towards particular individuals for specific purposes. And so carefully I will continue to support my new friends in whatever capacity I am able, and I will hope for the best.