Stepping in

Stepping in can be just plain hard. As we walk the streets of downtown Atlanta and approach our gathering area, the streets are quiet. It’s Christmas Eve in the afternoon, and many are likely preparing meals, last minute shopping, anticipating the arrival of family and friends, driving to church. We are heading towards a park to spend time with those who don’t have gatherings to attend, meals to prepare or last minute gifts to buy.

We walk towards our meeting place and quickly turn in a different direction. Someone is partially undressing in front of us. A quick detour with the family and a roundabout way leads us to the park. My thoughts… what are we doing?… maybe this wasn’t such a good idea…I feel out of place…are my children safe here? I am sure the same thoughts are going through my husband’s mind.

We arrive at the park. It’s full. The sun is shining and it feels good to be outside. The regulars are chatting; they obviously know each other. Awkward doesn’t even begin to define how out of place I feel. Stepping in is hard.

This is a coordinated event. It’s obvious who frequents the park and who is here for the monthly event. We are given instructions by the leader of the event. He says we are here to love people. It’s hard to love people sometimes.

Stepping in can make you step out of your comfort zone. I want my comfort zone right about now. I am so outside my zone. I just want to walk off, head back to my familiar surroundings. I can’t help but wonder…what happened? Why are you on the street? What hand did life deal you? Why you? It can happen to anyone. Did no one step in?

“Go in groups of two’s or three’s,” the leader of the event says. “Love them, talk with them, pray with them. We will hand out coffee, pastries and coats later.” Off we go. I meet a man named Brian. He is chatty. It is easy to be with him. He needs someone to listen. He wants a better life, but the grips of addiction has the upper hand for now. He is honest about that. He is barely thirty. Marcus wants prayers for his family, estranged I’m guessing. Addiction has him too. He says he needs five dollars for a bus fare to get to a job on Monday. Maybe he will ride the bus, maybe he will do something else with the money. I give it to him, plus some. My prayer. Lord, please release them from the chains of addiction. Please step in Lord, and please set them free.

Ronald is different. He didn’t smell of alcohol. He is new to Atlanta, so he says. Hard story. He’s recently out of prison. They are all hard stories. No one stepped in. I so want to believe each story I hear, but then skepticism kicks in – is this just what they want to tell you? Is this the real story? It doesn’t matter. Love doesn’t ask questions. It just steps in.

A lady is handed a pink coat. I am standing next to her. She says, “I’ve never had a coat with a price tag still hanging on it.” I say, “you deserve it.” She looks at me. I feel awkward again. Breaking the stare and the silence I say, “pretty in pink.” She smiles and says “yes, I do deserve it.” Stepping in is really awkward.

Our time at the coordinated event draws to a close. It’s hard to leave. Love creates relationship no matter how brief the time. The family walks back to our car. The man who was undressing on the street has gone elsewhere. We drive back home to our comfort zone. The regulars at the park will look for a place to find comfort for the night. I don’t feel awkward anymore. Next month we want to return to the park, to the coordinated event. Stepping in makes a difference, but making a difference requires stepping in.