Tonight I returned to our Tuesday community meal, a space that continues to reveal the quiet beauty of presence and the deep ache of unmet needs.
Though the meal is served as take-out, what we’re building is unmistakably a community. As long as there is conversation, hospitality, and welcome, there is connection. And tonight, that connection was alive.
I greeted our volunteers, whose steady commitment is a ministry of its own. Their warmth and welcome set the tone for the evening. I also spoke with nearly everyone who came for a meal. Each conversation, however brief, felt like a small act of recognition, a way of saying, “You matter.”
One woman, with her child beside her, told me it was the first time someone from church leadership had come to speak with them. I shared that I’m new, and that I’ll keep coming. Her words reminded me that presence is not a small thing. It’s a beginning.
Later, I met a woman who was joining us for the first time. She’s been sleeping in her car for months. Her story unfolded slowly, marked by exhaustion, frustration, and longing. She spoke of the difficulty of finding housing, the barriers to getting help, and the impossibility of securing a job when you carry the smell of homelessness. Her car, which holds all her belongings, makes it hard to stay clean. She wants to work. She wants to move forward. But the doors keep closing.
We talked for a long time. I mostly listened. She thanked me, for the hot meal, for the space, for the conversation. But what she needs most is a safe, clean place to sleep. That truth sat between us, clear, urgent, and unresolved.
Tonight reminded me that hospitality is more than food. It’s listening. It’s showing up. It’s bearing witness to stories that don’t fit neatly into solutions. And it’s holding space for grace to enter.
I’ll keep coming. Not because I have answers, but because I believe in the sacredness of presence. And because in these moments, around meals, in conversations, through shared struggle, I glimpse the kingdom of God drawing near.
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