A Wyoming Drive

I just drove through the mountains of Wyoming, traveling to Rock Springs in search of some place that wasn’t full of rain clouds. I operate my life on me own schedule, and I let God control the landing of the dice while I just keep rolling… as I crossed the rolling plains with mountains resting along the horizon on both sides, the sky seemed to be unwrapping a present. Slowly, bits of blue and rays of light began to break through the gray and the rain stopped. As I looked to my left, I saw a train rolling alongside the mountains with red and yellow cars all moving at a steady pace in the same direction I was headed. I watched as I drove into the sunlight as the yellow cars caught the rays of light and became magnified against the blue backdrop of the mountain range and the dull green grass that grows in patches along the plains. Wyoming is beautiful.

I tried to stop and take a picture but the memory card on my camera was full, and the battery is almost dead. I guess that moment was just for me. As I drove, classical music came on the radio and I decided not to change it. A symphony by an incredibly old man whose name I do not remember came on the radio, and the notes seemed to dance wonderfully with the light on my windshield and the wind blowing through the window onto my arm. I thought about writing. I wished that I could speak and create the novel in my head. People underestimate the memory. In combination with photographs, it remembers details that can revert the mind to a time and place lived long ago. I might not remember your name, but I know how you changed my life. I like to process my lessons. Almost every interaction that I have with a stranger teaches me something. It teaches me something about myself, something about you, or something about the world that we live in.

When I learn these lessons, I strive to demonstrate that knowledge back to God. “I know you love me, so I will love everyone else and show you the love I have for you”. “I know that you will provide for me so I will not be afraid when I do the things you have asked of me”. “I know that you hear me so I will not repeat myself abundantly in prayer”. “I know that you are the only one who can judge so I will refrain from judgment”. “I know that you care for all creatures and all people so I will care for them too”. “I know that you are not physical so I will not worship the physical”.

I drive slow, but I talk fast. I think 10 steps ahead but I live in the moment. When no one can hear me, I’m still talking to God. When no one can see me smile, I still do. I love with my whole heart. I work hard when I have to and I work smart all the time. I make mistakes, and I’m transparent and I don’t feel guilty after I correct them. I won’t use anyone else, but I’ll allow myself to be used by God. I sleep barely, I cry when I need to, and I laugh a lot.

Spread the LOVE

a jackson flashback

I pulled the truck into my old parking spot at the back of the church. It was dark and quiet, and the only light was shining from the street light far above my head. I turned the engine off and took a deep breath. Holding it in and closing my eyes, I could see it all over again. It was early September of 2009...

My mind was racing with thousands of fearful thoughts, colored in a montage of worry and concern. The church was a massive shadow that I barely stopped to stare at as I drove through the parking lot to the back. I passed the spot on the right where I had sat down to think the night before, grateful and happy as I thanked God for my big blue truck and gave him a name, so that I could give him Love. Bubba was home now, and tonight I was realizing that getting a solid night’s sleep might be harder than I thought.
The words “You can’t sleep here,” were still ringing in my ears as I drove the truck to the farthest space in the lot and parked in the dark. I was more than a football field from the church and still on the property. Maybe I can hide…
At 4:30 in the morning my eyes jerked open to the sound of my dog barking in front of my face. Reflexively I sprang up in my seat, grabbed her collar and twisted to see the target of her anger. Another pickup truck was next to me and I was staring at the shadowed face of a strange man.
“What are you doin out here?” the shadow asked me. I didn’t know what to say. The honest truth seemed obvious and painful. All I could manage to say was “ummmm….” as I wiped the blur from my eyes and squinted through the darkness. “You can’t be out here. This is private property.” The voice was stern and almost angry. I realized I was talking to someone affiliated with the church.
“Oh… “ I’ve learned that playing stupid is the best defense in situations like these. “I didn’t know, I figured since it was a church…” Come to think of it, the reference to the church being a sanctuary should mean something, right?
I’m not sure why I didn’t just stop there, but in my sleepy surprise, I felt like I needed to add a little flair. “I was just gonna walk my dog through the field at sunrise.”
There was a silence. I felt stupid for lying. I tried to stutter a sentence that would offer more support. “I think sunrise is in… like… an hour or something.” I said as I looked at the spot on my wrist where a watch would be if I wore one. So much for legitimacy. “Walk your dog….” He said it more as a statement of absurdity than confirmation. “Well, walk your dog at sunrise then, but don’t go behind this gate right here,” he said as his arm became visible in the light of the street lamp and he jerked his thumb toward the gate behind us. I had noticed a large No Tresspassing sign on the gate. I wonder what’s back there?
“Yessir” I said as he dropped the truck in reverse and started backing out of the parking space. I watched him leave as Zuzu kept a low growl in the back of her throat.
I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes again. With a deep breath I wanted to cry. Only two nights and I’ve been woken up 4 times to be told that I’m unwelcome. Please, God. I’m so tired. It seemed like I had just said the words when I was smacked in the face with the sunlight in my eyes and the barking in my ear. I grabbed her collar again and twisted and the words “what the hell…” slipped out of my mouth as I prayed… not again.
This time when I looked out the truck window I didn’t see a truck. I had to look down, into the faces of two middle aged white men sitting in a golf cart. The one closest to me was wearing a maroon sun visor and sun glasses, but I could tell he was still squinting at me by the way I could see all of his white teeth flash in the morning sun. There was no expression to be found on his face other than curiousity.
“Hey, did a man in a black pickup truck come bother you this morning?” he asked me. I was surprised by the question and for some reason I looked over my shoulder into the passenger seat of my truck as though I was going to consult with someone before answering. I answered in a low voice full of hesitation. “yeeess,” I said and raised an eyebrow to make it a question. I was confused.
I watched as the man reached into the pocket of his white shorts and pulled out a maroon colored business card. “This is my card. I’m mister Connolly and we’re in charge of the church grounds. We out-rank him,” he said as he looked at his friend wearing a light blue polo shirt and smiled. They almost laughed before he looked back at me in all seriousness and said “you’re fine. If he ever bothers you again, just don’t go past the gate and you can stay.”
He pointed toward the field and made a comment to his friend about hitting some golf balls before they had to be at work, and they drove away with a wave over their shoulder. I looked down at the card in my hand. “Mike… thanks Mike.” I said out loud.

I fell asleep in my truck with this memory in my mind, lost in the storyline of 2009, wondering what would wake me up in the morning and what new chapters would fill the pages of this book.

One More Door

I sat in the truck for a moment, trying to judge if the neighborhood was middle class or poor, just based on the look of the houses. (Later on, I learned not to look at the houses, but the cars. It’s a much better indicator, but there weren’t any cars on this street anyway.) I wondered if anyone would be home. It was a tired looking street, with old trees that hung low over the sidewalks. I could see that a few of the houses needed a fresh coat of paint, but it didn’t look drastic. I figured I had already parked, so I might as well give it a try.

I started walking up the right side of the street. I always start on my right so that God can just tell me where to park and I don’t have to think too hard beyond that. No one came to the door for my first 3 houses, and I was starting to think I should just try a different block when the door opened on the fourth house. An elderly woman peered at me through the screen for a moment before asking me what I wanted. I could barely see her face through the darkness inside the house and the gloomy light of the afternoon.

“I’m collecting canned goods ma’am, for a food drive…” I said as I tried to make eye contact through the screen. It bothers me when I feel like I’m talking at someone instead of to them.
The screen door opened suddenly and the woman’s face became clear. She had cataracts, she was missing quite a few of her teeth and she looked like skin and bones. But she was smiling in the way that radiates pure joy. She held her arms open for a moment and I thought she might hug me.
“Oh darlin, that’s so sweet of you! I’m so glad you’re doin that. I don’t have anything to give you, because I have cancer and they make me eat fresh stuff that I keep in my freezer. But I think this is wonderful!”
Then she did, she hugged me. Right there on her front porch.

I laughed and said something about just being glad to help before she told me to “go on down the street now, wonderful!”

There were two more houses with no answer before I met an older man who shrugged his shoulders at me with a down trodden expression. “Honestly, I would give you something if I had it,” he glanced over his slumped shoulders as he continued. “We just don’t have it. Nothing in our cupboard. I’m sorry.” His eyes were so sincere and his voice was full of humiliation. I thanked him and stepped back off the porch for fear that I was embarrassing him.

Three more houses, and two more people explaining that they didn’t have enough to give. Now, I’m used to being told no, and I’ve been told no in hundreds of different ways. Most of the time it’s a slammed door, a “go away!” before the door is ever opened, the infamous line “I give enough” or another favorite “I did that last week”. Sometimes I get the simple “no thank you” which is probably the best form of rejection and other times I get to spend five minutes answering a barrage of questions and then get told no. That’s always fun too… But this was different. The people on this street were tragically sorry that they could not give. They shook my hand in gratitude and held it for an extra second, apologetically explaining their situation. Up the street and back down the other side, and my heart was broken. Some of the houses I could hear children playing in the other room.

“We have to go to the local pantry for food,” one family explained. “We would love to be able to help you… we just can’t.”

This is not the block where I should be collecting. I was muttering to myself, wanting to kick myself for still going to the next house, still asking, still being faced with the reality of indoor poverty. But something pushed me on… further up the street. I reached the corner where I could see Bubba parked on the other side of the road, under a droopy tree that seemed now to match the neighborhood. My bag contained only 3 things, after 40 houses and hours of knocking and talking. This was depressing. I motivated myself in the usual way as I stepped up to the house on the corner. One more, just one more door and then I can go.

A dark haired woman in her late thirties answered the door. She looked tired. But as I muttered my request and she looked from my face to my nearly empty bag, her eyes lit up. “Just one second, can you wait? I’ve been waiting for somebody like you…” she said. I nodded at her and stood on my tiptoes as I watched her disappear into the dark house. What was she going to do? This was a weird response…
She appeared a moment later, bent over and dragging a large box across the floor. When she pushed it out the door, I was speechless. It was full of canned goods and pastas, and there were more than 40 items inside the box. She finally smiled at me, and said she had been keeping it in her kitchen. She wasn’t sure why, she just began adding things to it here and there, and now… “I guess it was for you,” she said as she began to close the door. I finally made my jaw work as I blurted a “thank you” before the door was completely closed.

“I guess it was for your neighbors,” I said out loud as I hoisted the heavy box up to my chest. I looked back down the street and smiled. A little redistribution of wealth was just what this neighborhood needed.

When I had left my presents on the porches and door steps of my new friends, and was walking back to the truck, the elderly woman who had hugged me was standing on the porch watching me. “You must be in Love,” she said as I came closer. I laughed as she finished her thought. “Only people in Love look like that…”

puppy love

I was introduced to a woman named Melissa through the internet, and only a few days after first connecting with her, she began sharing with me her own task of providing food for animals in Mississippi. She told me of her plans to collect dog food and take it to the local shelter, in a valiant effort to show these animals the Love that they so deserve. All good people care deeply about something, and Melissa cares about this. I respect her, and I wanted to help.
That day, I went door-to-door collecting canned goods to give to the local food pantry. When a dog began barking after I rang a doorbell, I prepared a secondary speech. I was invited inside, and as the owner of the house dropped the canned goods into the bag, I examined the contents of his lovely living room. I was particularly fascinated with a glass table held up by two stone elephants over a foot and a half tall. It was a beautiful piece of artwork, and he told me that his wife had picked out before she passed away last year. He believes his duty is to keep it clean and pretty like she wanted it. During the conversation, my foot was was being happily licked by a little orange colored mutt that was small enough to fit in my bag on top of the cans. I took the opportunity to ask the man for help.
“Thank you for the canned goods! I’m also participating in a project that provides treats to our four-legged friends as well, and I was wondering if you had any dog treats or dog food you would like to donate?”
The man smiled and wandered back toward his kitchen, saying over his shoulder “you know… in fact…” and his voice faded off as I heard the cupboards being opened. I smiled down at the little dog and let him smell the scent of Zuzu on my jacket. The man came out with three little bags of dog treats explaining that Dynamite didn’t like them but maybe another hungry dog would. I was so excited for Melissa. Her idea created change.
Today, I went to visit my mother’s friend, who already knows of my journey. When I stepped in the door, he asked me what was new, and Melissa came to mind. By the end of the day, I had recieved an 18 pound bag of dog food. I can’t wait to tell Melissa what she started.

innovation

“The Church has left the building!”
I read it again. It’s rare for me to smile so early in the morning on a Sunday, but for a moment I was thinking that there might be a reason for my random stop in Meridian.
I read further down the website and looked for an address. As I programmed it into the GPS, I was thinking out loud. “Hope they don’t mind that I haven’t had a shower and I’m wearing jeans and a sweatshirt.”
Bible study was just beginning when I walked into the basement. I took a seat in the back, and after the pastor finished his explanation of a scripture to one of the ladies in the front row, he acknowledged my appearance and asked my name. I introduced myself to the group of about 18 people. “Where are you from?” he asked the classic question that I always decide is fated to be an opportunity for me to explain the Project. “I’m originally from Illinois, but I’m going to all 50 states in the US in 50 weeks doing food drives for people in poverty,” I explained. His eyes widened and a few heads in the rows in front of me turned to look my direction. I added that “I go to a new church in a new state every week.”
“Wow! That’s awesome. I’ll tell you a bit about our church,” he replied. He completely interrupted his Bible study to explain the philosophy behind the Church.
They hold services in the basement of the power building, a donated space. They collect tithe, but the money goes to community projects, like neighborhood barbeques and free car washes. They serve the people in real ways, and they sacrificed their building to do it.

This Sunday morning I listened to a worship service led by a father and his daughter, and a sermon led by a preacher who sat on a wooden stool, facing rows of fold-out chairs. He asked the audience what they still needed to get together for the barbeque next weekend. A woman that I later recognized as his wife, explained that they had purchased the plates and plastic silverware, but that they needed a table cloth. She said that quite a few people had signed up to bring food but they needed one more side dish and a desert.
After the closing prayer, a woman in the row ahead of me turned to ask me how I had heard of their church. I told her I had seen the website, and her eyes widened. She asked what the camera was for, and I told her that I’m a photojournalist. She looked at her husband for a long moment, and they spoke without words. My face was a question mark by the time they looked me in the eye again, and they must have felt called to explain.
“We’ve been prayin for God to send somebody to call attention to what we’re doing if it’s the right thing. No one else in town is doing this. We’ve never really heard of it before. We were praying for affirmation…” she explained. Her husband added. “We just built that website, and we weren‘t sure if anyone would ever find us that way. I guess we know now… What do you think of this church?”
Before I could answer, the pastor was interrupting, shaking my hand and asking if there was a way for us to keep in touch. I wrote down my info as I shared my thoughts within earshot of the couple who had asked for them.
“This is awesome!! This is right, I can feel it. This is Love…” I said as I wrote my number on the back of the card. I watched the woman smile at me before she turned to speak to another member of the congregation. “I’m so sorry that we don’t have many people here,” the pastor apologized as he shook my hand. “It’s not about that. Don’t focus on that. Quality not Quantity,” I said as I tried to match his grip. “Is there an organization that you would like me to help out while I’m in town?” I asked him. His eyes lit up.
“YES! There is a food pantry called Love’s Kitchen on the other side of the railroad tracks. They could definitely use some assistance,” he said. “It’s where we would take it if we had it…”
Good enough for me. As I walked out the front door I was happy to have the sunshine hit my face and a new plan for the day. All I have to do is find a neighborhood, and let the food drive for Love’s Kitchen begin!

motivation

I was in my truck, driving through the night toward Jackson Mississippi from Tuscaloosa Alabama. I knew I needed the clarity that comes with the drive. I was asking myself why Alabama had been such a bummer for me, and in the process of talking it through to myself out loud, it all became very clear. I had simply lost my focus, again, and had gotten caught up in the distractions. Love can be a distraction when it's not the right time for that kind of love. Or sleep, it can be a distraction when you aren't really all that tired.
Did I ever tell you that I pick up a rock in every state? I do it for my friend Tom, who has a rock collection. He helped me get ready for this project, so I give him rocks. But I was so engulfed in my self-conversation about distractions that when I thought to pull over to get Tom's rock, I was already in a town called Tooms-something in Mississippi. I had to turn back and drive 10 miles back over the state line to get his Alabama rock. I picked it up outside a town called Demopolis, at an abandoned gas station right off the exit for interstate 80. I feel bad that Tom will have to have a pathetic little gravel rock from Alabama because I lacked focus all week.
As I was driving toward Jackson, something told me to stop in Meridian. I knew it had to be God, because I didn't want to stop at all. I was wide awake, and when I'm wide awake, I drive. But for some reason, I just felt like I was supposed to stop and go to church here, instead of in Jackson. The plan had been to go to Jackson and go straight to the place that used to throw me out all of the time and go stir up some trouble. But something inside me lit up when I thought "church in Meridian?" and even though I was confused, and reluctant, I took the exit called "Quitman"... I figured maybe that was a clue.
The next thing I wondered, was that if I was really supposed to stop here, I would see a Wal-Mart. The best place to park without being noticed is definitely a Wal-Mart. It's 24 hour, they won't kick you out, and there are security cameras. Bubba moved into the left turn lane before I even realized it. When I made the turn, I drove down until I couldn't drive straight anymore and never saw anything of any real interest. I accidentally turned onto a frontage road, and laughed. I was headed back onto the interstate, back toward Jackson, and if I didn't see a Wal-Mart in like 3 blocks I was headed back out on the highway. I remembered the jack-knifed semi truck that I saw right after I returned from a meaningless 2 minute exit in Florida and I was thinking "what? Did you just want me off the road for a minute? Bad accident? what's going on God?" and just then, I saw the big blue and white Wal-Mart sign.
I sighed and it didn't lesson my confusion. But I had to stop. So here I sit, at the Wal-Mart outside of Meridian, and the plan is to go to church here in the morning. Jackson will have to wait. I don't get it, but if this is what God wants, we'll go with it. I've been ignoring Him for days in favor of my distractions, so it's time to listen close, again, now and forever

Alabama Adventures

While I was in Tuscaloosa, I stayed with an old friend named Rob. We went door to door for canned goods, and a woman’s dog escaped. While Rob chased the dog down the street and the woman gathered some canned goods to put in my bag, her elderly mother collapsed on the floor.

She was unconscious, barely breathing… Rob and I stayed there until the ambulance arrived… I still wish I knew what happened next.

Down the street I met a man named Woodrow Spencer.

He is 102 years old, but after he donated a few cans of vegetables he still offered me a tour of his garage. I loved these cowboy figurines dipped in lead.

He made them by melting bullets in the 50’s and now they line a shelf along this window. Woodrow told me that he collects antiques, and after I had toured the whole of his property, he presented me with this gift…

I will keep it always. Thank you Woodrow!

Tallahassee Truth

Clarence and I were ushered into a small room that was probably used by the choir to put on their robes before this morning’s chapel service. There were about 50 people standing in a line that snaked around the room multiple times, and now that everyone was out of the rain, it was time for introductions.

There was a man across the line that had caught my attention, and Clarence introduced him as “an old friend.” He was easily the best dressed man in the room, in a white suit that was fit for a groom. He let me take his picture, and when he walked away, Clarence explained that the man lived in an abandoned building. When the man had been in the building long enough to know that he would be able to live there without getting caught, he began sneaking others inside too whenever the weather was bad. “On a day like today, when it’s raining, he’ll have 7 people sleeping with him on the floor. He’s good people…”

After 15 minutes or so, we were ushered into another small room down the hall. Against the wall was a table with Popeye’s chicken and homemade cake being served by an elderly man and woman. I followed the line and declined desert, because it looked like whoever had baked it hadn’t baked enough. When I turned around, I didn’t see Clarence anymore.

Well, this is awkward. I was having flashbacks to cafeteria lunches in grade school when you don’t know who to sit with. If I sit with the nerds, then I’m a nerd… and I can’t sit with the cool kids anyway. “Shay, this isn’t grade school,” I told myself. I noticed a scrawny little guy that Clarence had pointed out as a friend when we were in line and headed toward that table. There was an open seat. No one looked up as I set my food down, and in only a matter of seconds, the seat next to me was taken. When I looked up from the matching box of chicken to see who was behind it, Clarence smiled at me.

“Why didn’t you get desert, girl? Betta get it while you can!!” he said as he shoved his desert in my direction. “I don’t want any cake, thanks” I said with a smile and slid the desert back towards the rest of his food. I instantly regretted it. Not because of Clarence, he just smirked and shook his head… but because I knew it was an outright lie. I love cake! “What, are you too good for free cake?” I asked myself. “You’ll take the free chicken, but the cake is just too much,” I taunted my own stupid decision. I eyed Clarence while he swallowed his cake in two bites, and he smiled at me. He knew. Of course he knew.

Everyone hurried through their food, and as I swallowed the last piece of bread and saved the chicken scraps for Zuzu, the elderly couple at the front politely asked us to make room for the next crowd. Only then did I realize the purpose of the waiting room. There wasn’t enough space for everyone to eat at once. As I climbed the staircase toward the exit, there was a large man holding the door open. “Hey, how do you get the chicken?” I asked him. He never looked at me as he answered “I don’t know. We just do. Keep it moving…” and he waived his hand toward the exit door.

As I wandered back out into the rain, I thought about what Clarence had told me while we were waiting in line. Free food is nice enough, right?

Tallahassee Rain

My expensive camera was around my neck, and that sets me apart from the crowd, or so I thought. But when I got in line, the guys in front of me simply gave me a weak smile and looked back at the ground in front of them. The line moved forward a couple feet and no one said anything. I wasn’t going to stand here in silence. “How y’all doin today…” I muttered as more of a statement of existence than an actual question. To my surprise, the man in front of me turned around to acknowledge me. His eyes were happy. His face was smiling.

How could that be? Happy eyes… waiting for free food in the rain. Maybe this isn’t so sad after all. “Hey, at least we’ll be inside in a few minutes,” the man said. “How you doin?” he asked me. I nodded at him and smiled. “I’m Clarence,” he told me, and he stuck out his hand. I shook it and told him my name was Shay. He was wearing a silver cross on a chain against a black sweater. I complimented it, and he laughed. “Hey, I’m out here tryna look good!” he said. “Just cuz I’m struggling doesn’t mean I have to look like a sorry ass.”

I looked down at my sweatshirt. Maybe I could have dressed up for church a little more. I took a mental note. “What’s the deal here, man? Do they have good food?” I asked Clarence. “Oh yeah,” he said. “They got corporate sponsorship. I heard today it’s gonna be Popeye’s chicken!”

“What?” I said it out loud without really thinking. “How did they do that?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Every week it’s something different. Pizza, chicken, whatever. They don’t cook though, they don’t have a kitchen. Maybe people buy it…”

I looked at the line. There were at least a hundred people in line. “Are they nice?” was my next question.

Clarence raised his eyebrows. “Do they have to be? They’re giving us free food!” he said. “That’s nice enough for me!”

I shrugged. Maybe he’s right. I would find out.

“What are you doing out here, sister?” he asked me. I smiled at him. “I’m hungry!” I said. “Yeah, but I know you’ve got a story…” he prodded me. I looked at the line. I was the only female standing outside. “I stay in my truck,” I said. “I haven’t eaten anything but granola bars in awhile.”

Clarence laughed at me. “Hey, at least you’ve got a way to get out of this weather!” he said, and I was reminded to say a prayer of thanks for that as the rain began to beat down on the trees above our heads. The doors in front of us swung open and we saw hands waving us inside. “Sweet! They’re going to let us come in,” Clarence said above the sound of the raindrops hitting the pavement as we ducked inside the church.

Tallahassee Sunday

“Does God Care?”

I read the sign in front of the old white church; it’s steeple rising up from the street corner like a monument to righteousness. There had been no place for me to park the truck, so I had parked across the street at a different church and walked. The hordes of people marching inside the building wearing their “Sunday best” was only slightly intimidating, and I tried to practice my invisibility techniques while sliding into a pew in the back.

Everyone inside the building was intensely quiet. I tried to take a picture of the massive organ at the back of the chapel but even my camera shutter was so loud that I turned a couple heads. I thought I had seen a staircase headed upstairs when I came in, and when an elderly woman sat down next to me in the back, I decided to ask.

“Do you think I should go upstairs?” I whispered as I pointed at my camera. The service was about to begin, and I knew that I needed to decide now. She looked from my face, to my sweatshirt, to my camera and nodded. Her eyes were big and round and blue. She wore a polka dotted dress with a white purse. I smiled at her and moved out of my seat and into the isle.

Why do we have to be so quiet? I was asking myself this question when I reached the top of the stairs and the organ started playing. The sound was absolutely deafening. I looked down from the balcony at the pipes and watched as the choir filled the chambers. I breathed a sigh of relief, and took a picture of the organ while only the older woman wearing a polka dotted dress watched me from below.

When the service was over, I didn’t feel the need to stick around and chat with the regular attendees, and apparently they didn’t feel that way either. The rush toward the door was almost comical, and once out of the building I turned to take a photo. Why the rush? I asked myself. I wondered what people were so anxious to get home to.

My thoughts turned to what I would do ‘next’. I had no home to go to other than Bubba, and considering that I had just slept there and left there, I was in no hurry to go back. As I watched the crowd of people moving from the front door into the street, I noticed another crowd. This one was moving the opposite direction.

Alongside the stairs that lead up to the big double doors of the church was a sidewalk that seemed to lead toward a back entrance. Regular people in sweatshirts just like mine, without the ironed pants and the suit jackets, were walking slowly down that sidewalk in a single file line. I lightly touched the arm of a middle aged woman walking past me with her husband. The fabric on her sleeve was soft, like silk or satin. “Excuse me, where does that line lead?” I asked her.

Her brown eyes widened at my touch on her arm and her stare darted from the place on her sleeve where my hand had been, to my dirty sweatshirt, and then to the line where I pointed. “We feed over there…” she said. She was already pulling away.

“Feed…?” I pressed, taking a step toward her.

“We provide lunch.” She corrected, and I watched her walk away. My gaze drifted back to the men wandering toward the line, and it started to rain. “I don’t have anything better to do, and I’m hungry,” I thought. I hadn’t eaten in more than 24 hours. My cousin’s house was only a 4 hour drive away and I knew there would be something for dinner tonight, but my pride had long since abandoned me. “4 hours away isn’t right now” I thought, and I wandered toward the line.