Summary: We visited two significant housing developments that we previously did not have the resources for. I briefly met a reclusive man regarded as an elder in the homeless community, and over three thousand bottles of hand sanitizer were donated that will be used for heat,

Read Time: Approximately 10 minutes.

The management of a vast housing area asked us to visit more than once. In the past, I had doubted that we could handle something on that scale. But, in January, we just rolled into the parking lot, set up shop, and started knocking on doors. And it was amazing. That was Lincolnshire on Pennbrooke Avenue. The following week, we did the same thing at Rolling Heights, now called Churchill Park. And it was beautiful.

I wasn’t sure why we were being led to show up in these and other places unannounced when, otherwise, we could have reached a much larger crowd. And out of nowhere, it just hit me. We’re putting our toe in the water. It makes sense for everyone concerned to ease into things and get comfortable. A good example of that was when law enforcement arrived and approached me, concerned about an anonymous tip that a staggering, intoxicated man was knocking on doors. As expected, they were highly professional, and we all went about our business. Maybe the next time, that person who called will know we’re just people and pose no threat. We are all old, and a few limp and waddle around. So yeah, that police report makes sense.

It’s been placed upon my heart lately to do something that seriously terrifies me. Like spiders and snakes, it’s that kind of terror. And, someone appeared out of nowhere that, unfortunately for me, might be confirmation that I ought to do that one thing. There’s the name of a man that I’ve heard come up more often as I am allowed closer into the community. The name is well respected amongst those experiencing homelessness. And above all, the name is synonymous with “rarely seen.”

We’re at the Cadillac. Cherokee is a man I have befriended who is close to the community and has helped us out immensely in getting the right people on our path. He got my attention and had me join him and another man. They’re out of view, standing behind a dumpster. Cherokee introduced me as, “This is the guy I was telling you about.” It was him. The man and I have a profound conversation. Part of which was this. He told me I needed to take it slow, that most of his people have given up on everyone because of how they’re treated, and they want nothing to do with us. He did not use the word “us.” I did. Let’s not deceive ourselves. He seems so kind and soft-spoken. Gentleness appears to radiate from him. A part of me felt terrible because I was standing here talking to two men, now a woman, and not helping with the mass amount of people I could see from where I was standing.

We cross the street together; I turn my back momentarily, having been distracted by someone who needs something. And he’s gone. It couldn’t have been a minute or two. That’s not fair. I had so many questions. What am I supposed to do from here?

Lots of unexplainable things happened this month. When our God moves, it’s typical to have things kind of fall out of the sky. We asked the public for hand sanitizer. And we wound up with over three thousand bottles of it in one day. I want to think sometimes God has a sense of humor. “Oh, you’re going to question my ability to show up?”—my words.  Cherokee had accepted an invitation to share a meal with us a week or so prior and shared a wealth of information, including how his people keep warm by burning hand sanitizer. How were we figuring this out? So, I made a public plea. And yes, it showed up.

One of the locations we felt led to visit was The Gathering Place on West 4th Street. It’s one of the coolest places I’ve been to, like a place I’d be comfortable in. It’s like a big living room with snacks and healthy refreshments. People in recovery hang out there. They offered us coffee, which we took advantage of. They insisted on helping unload and load back up. Our reason for choosing this specific place was due to a reliable report that they were short on feminine hygiene, so we thankfully had the public deliver a plentiful amount in the final hour. While there, we unloaded like we would anywhere else and helped a few people.

The temperature was what we had thought it would be, but not many of us were prepared for the wind and moisture. Throughout the day, the cold served as a subtle reminder of what it was like. Out of nowhere, a man approached on his bicycle and, like most people experiencing homelessness, asked permission to have each and every item that he decided to pick up. Each time he asks, he looks me directly in my eyes. I didn’t check, but I’m sure the other volunteers had a similar experience with him. We love on him the best we can, and he rides off hollering about how he loves us, praising God. A scarf he had picked out flaps behind him as he rides off. Experiences like this happen constantly, but words don’t do the being there much justice. I seriously struggle with why I get to have the privilege of being a part of whatever is going on here.

We go out and find people in need on the last Saturday of every month. We visit Tent City each time we go out, and this time we were well prepared. Volunteers carefully packed several cardboard “care boxes” with tarps, duct tape, batteries, a flashlight, thirty days’ worth of wipes, toilet paper, dry shampoo, soap, deodorant, toothpaste and toothbrush, peanut butter, hand sanitizer and a large can to burn it in, and a bunch of other things I’m probably not remembering. We divide these things into boxes to ensure everyone gets an equal amount. We also had plenty of food, water, blankets, and coats.

This is going to sound bad, but I had prayed that we would not find many people there since the temperatures were getting dangerously low at night. Cherokee and a couple of his friends scoured the area for any bodies surviving under a tarp or in a tent. Thankfully, they came back with just a handful of people eager for the provisioning so graciously donated to us by people like you.

As I’ve mentioned before, some live in Tent City year-round. And then we’ll usually see a few new people that will stay for a while and move on. This day was no exception. There was a young man that I had not seen before. As far as I know, he was by himself. He was had on thick brown coveralls and boots. He presented a broken demeanor. It had probably been a while since he had a bath. I suspect it chips away at your dignity a bit at a time. Defecating in a hole in the ground and having no way to clean up, the looks of disgust from people like us. You could tell it had taken its toll. As the man moves down the line to get what he desperately needs, he tolerates someone telling him how he should be reading the bible. The look on his face tells the story.

Doing this outreach thing changes you. And not in ways that you would think. I was recently reminded that I choose to behave impulsively when someone in dire need shows up in my path—going to pick up strangers on a rainy, cold night and taking them to a restaurant kind of crazy, impulsive-like behavior. Ordinarily, I’m not that way. I make careful decisions with my business and take risks with low consequences. Friends had to join my wife just recently to help me set some healthy boundaries. No, my wife was not happy.

It seems to be hardwired in me. When I was twelve, I gave away my first new bicycle to a kid who lived down the road and didn’t have one. I opted to walk home and get on the bike I shared with my siblings. I also gave away a vintage truck that my father offered to provide me with at no cost to someone with only a bicycle. A part of me wishes I still had that old truck; I recognize it as an impulsive decision. My past is just scattered with it. Sometimes with some painful consequences. Thankfully, my loving wife anchors me and keeps me on course.

The people God has chosen to involve in this outreach. It’s just crazy. One of our volunteers is a top-notch mechanic who provides much-needed maintenance to our aging equipment. We have people who come in and fill food bags. There are even more people who sort clothes and assemble the care boxes. One couple, who has mastered the art of working the background, has requested to remain “a ghost.” They’re from all walks of life—just ordinary people. It just all came together.

Don’t get me started on any coincidences.

For example, I will briefly share my conversation with my father. He reminded me of some problematic living conditions I had encountered as a young man. And how God would have had me experience that to prepare me for what has been placed in my path today. I tell you not to draw attention to myself but to suggest that all of this is hardly a coincidence. I don’t know what other evidence you need to see how God is moving. But, if you don’t believe it, It’s okay. We should agree to disagree, working together to address the apparent need.

“If this is going to be a Christian nation that doesn’t help the poor, either we have to pretend that Jesus was just as selfish as we are, or we’ve got to acknowledge that He commanded us to love the poor and serve the needy without condition and then admit that we just don’t want to do it.”– Stephen Colbert

All of the real names used here were with permission. Otherwise, the names have been changed. To protect the identity of those photographed, they have been blurred intentionally unless consent was given before publishing.

The Safer Kentucky Act, which went into effect on July 15, 2024, makes sleeping or camping in public areas illegal, including on sidewalks, roadsides, under bridges, or in parks, parking lots, garages, or doorways. The law creates a new offense called “unlawful camping” that can result in arrest and fines.  Assisting those individuals is considered to be aiding and abetting, which is a legal doctrine that refers to the act of helping or encouraging someone to commit a crime. The person who aids and abets is generally held to the same degree of criminal liability as the person who commits the crime.  We ask that you please not attempt to locate or visit Tent City.