My pals
Billie was a very butch-type lesbian - homeless - and a guest at Res. House. I liked her very much.
The other week after the Res. House prayer service I told her that I was praying that she would find a wonderful girl-friend.
That was not to be. Billie overdosed on neat Vodka, and after a few days in Intensive Care at our local hospital she passed from this life.
I will miss her. We remembered her at today’s prayer service. We remembered her without judgment.
After the prayer service (n) came to hug me. He said that our prayer time at Res. House is the highlight of his week.
Our homeless guests pray to get jobs and to find a place to live. They pray for their siblings and children. They pray for all the homeless folks. They pray for soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan.
My friends at Res. House are so cool. Some are mentally ill; many are military veterans with post stress traumatic disorder; some are alkies or druggies.
The vast majority are folks just like us, who have fallen on hard times. They are so anxious to get back into the mainstream. They also understand that the “system” works against them.
They know full well that McSame and the Pistol Packin’ Momma offer them no hope.
(Speaking of which, McSame was in SRQ today. I got caught up in the traffic jam his motorcade caused. I felt personally affronted that he came to town).
“Blue” was at the prayer service today. “Blue” is his street name, and he grins from ear to ear when I use it. He lingered after the prayer service and implored, yes implored me to pray for him each day. I made a promise which I hope that I can keep.
I’d rather hang around with 100 “Blues” than one McSame or Palin.
The other week after the Res. House prayer service I told her that I was praying that she would find a wonderful girl-friend.
That was not to be. Billie overdosed on neat Vodka, and after a few days in Intensive Care at our local hospital she passed from this life.
I will miss her. We remembered her at today’s prayer service. We remembered her without judgment.
After the prayer service (n) came to hug me. He said that our prayer time at Res. House is the highlight of his week.
Our homeless guests pray to get jobs and to find a place to live. They pray for their siblings and children. They pray for all the homeless folks. They pray for soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan.
My friends at Res. House are so cool. Some are mentally ill; many are military veterans with post stress traumatic disorder; some are alkies or druggies.
The vast majority are folks just like us, who have fallen on hard times. They are so anxious to get back into the mainstream. They also understand that the “system” works against them.
They know full well that McSame and the Pistol Packin’ Momma offer them no hope.
(Speaking of which, McSame was in SRQ today. I got caught up in the traffic jam his motorcade caused. I felt personally affronted that he came to town).
“Blue” was at the prayer service today. “Blue” is his street name, and he grins from ear to ear when I use it. He lingered after the prayer service and implored, yes implored me to pray for him each day. I made a promise which I hope that I can keep.
I’d rather hang around with 100 “Blues” than one McSame or Palin.
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