…I sat in a meeting listening to their plans to reach out to the community. At last I had a moment to speak. I asked, “What about the homeless, the addicts, and the prostitutes who exist outside here along this street?” And that’s where it began.
We started Brown Bag Fridays. We took sandwiches, sometimes burritos, and sometimes $1.00 double cheeseburgers. We would drive up and down the streets of the area and ask if they were hungry. Rarely did anyone say no! But in the rare event that they did say no, we would say, “You can always save it for later,” and they would take it.
We expanded, collecting coats and jackets and socks. We would go out on Christmas Eve and pass out goodie bags and food. On Thanksgiving, we would put together a hot Thanksgiving meal and drive up and down the streets, giving out hot meals.
This was my passion, my calling. I knew it. I knew in my heart that these folks needed us. They would at least eat when we came through.
I would often meet up with my friends, the people I had coexisted with on the streets. My journey on the streets, through all those years, gave me an understanding of their lifestyle. I could empathize with them and understand their needs. I had walked in their shoes and had survived. Now I was filling a need, helping these people to not feel invisible, the way I had all those years. How many times had I wished, even prayed, for someone to pull up beside me and hand me food, with no strings attached? How many times had I wished that someone would help me without preaching at me first, not turn me away for having no shoes? Now I had this huge passion for acceptance, to see those people accepted right where they were.
By this point I was totally blind, completely without sight. I heard her voice. It was her, my nemesis. On three different occasions with three different pimps, we had both worked for the same guy at the same time.
I thought, What will I do? I am blind. I can’t defend myself! My heart raced.
She called me, using my street name, “Hey, Ellie! I’m so glad to see you. I’ve been waiting for you. I’m starved.”
I handed her two sack lunches, and she said thanks. Then she hugged me and kissed my cheek, and said she loved me. She thanked me again.
This is what I had seen in my vision. Those were the words I had heard 17 months prior. The church, my church, was the very church where I had been invited in all those years ago, the only one of those three churches that never ran me off or made me feel unwelcome.
Again, seeing it all brought full circle as I look back through the years, I see that God was always preparing a place for me. God knew the journey I would take, and He knew how it would be used for His Glory.
No matter what your story, no matter what your past, God is preparing a place for you. He knows the journey you have taken and will take. He knows how it will be used for
His glory.
Contact Information:
Christine C. McDonald
636-487-8986
Christine.CryPurple@gmail.com
“Love your neighbor, all of ’em.” -Christine Clarity McDonald
Through The Eyes of Grace – Christine C McDonald
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCEj5RbFpuzjx_CuksAqgyXA/featured
