2/4/11 It was cold, Lord. Wind seeping across the Post Office parking lot bitterly. As if angry, disturbed by a passerby. The rain had stopped hours before, but not without leaving everything soaked in its path.

It was all ice now, as I walked carefully.

You could feel the earth shiver. I shivered with it. Frozen.

I wanted to get to RCM early, to let our homeless friends into the warmth. You, know, Lord, the ones who didn't make it to the shelter. The ones who won't go into a shelter. Benny, one of our cooks, later said it was fourteen degrees when he left to get on the bus.

The Post Office parking lot was empty, except for the patches of ice that could really ruin a man's day. I just needed to get the mail for the ministry. That's all. My only mission.

I didn't even see her until I was even with her walking to the mailbox. My mind occupied, going through the next few hours for what was on the list for the day. You know God, surely You have a "things to do" list waiting for You each morning.

She spoke. "Hello," Brenda said with a shaky smile. She sat perched on one of the high tables where you can write down that last address or sort through your mail. She was above me, looking down. A homeless person looking down on a middle class minister. That's funny.

"Well, good morning, how are you this morning?" as I passed her, staying true to my mission. Ministering to the homeless can cause a person to see them everywhere. You know, Lord, like when a person buys a new car, well, she sees that make and model everywhere she looks. And after a while, she gets used to it, and doesn't notice it anymore.

Not this time. You wouldn't let me pass on by, without taking notice.

I kept talking to her as I got the mail, You know, small talk. "Are you going to be alright, ma'am?" I asked.

"I'm not sure, these pants are wet, and I can't stop shivering. I need to get some dry clothes."

It was the look in her eyes. It does it to me, everytime, Lord. I saw it again. Your humanity, Your Spirit, Your image, in a human being. One more time. And it changed me. One more time.

"I'm going to River City Ministry, want to come along? I can get you dry clothes, hot coffee, and if we're lucky, a donut or two."

She smiled as I helped her off the table. As she grabbed her cane to hobble a bit towards the car, she looked deep into my eyes, she whispered, "I prayed for help, and the Lord sent You."

Lord, keep my eyes open to where You are ministering, for Your list is never too long, You never lose touch, and You never forget, that we need You.

"We serve the poor not because they are like Jesus, but because they are Jesus."

Mother Theresa, In My Own Words

Lord, when did we see you ... ? Mt. 25, NIV