A Few weeks ago, our small group visited the Forest Avenue Family Shelter in urban Kansas City. The shelter provides meals for members of the community and a place for women and children to sleep. Though I have been there before and have visited many places like this one, this visit was different than others.
Normally, we provide a meal when we come. This week we decided to have “breakfast for dinner.” A few months ago, Jonathan and I found an espresso machine for $4 at a local thrift store. Since then, Jonathan has been making me a latte a few mornings each week. This is quite the treat for me, and I thought the people at the shelter would enjoy it too. However, I could never have imagined that something so simple would impact me so much.
So we packed up food, our espresso machine, some milk, and a few different kinds of flavored syrups, and headed to to the shelter. As the evening progressed, women came, ordered a latte, sat down, and sipped it with a feeling that was difficult to articulate.
About midway through the evening, I found myself in a long conversation with one of the women and her son. I didn't find out a ton about her or her life, but it felt a lot like a conversation that I would have had with a friend in a coffee shop. We talked and laughed as though we had known each other for long time. As our evening ended, she told me that this was one of the first times she had stayed at a shelter. It wasn't what she had expected. She had been really scared, but she told me that tonight had been a lot of fun for her.
As Jonathan and I were driving home, we talked about our experience. Jonathan made a connection that has really impacted me. He told me that he thought the latte's had made the people feel "normal." They weren't just drinking a cup of Joe from the pot brewing in the back.
They were able to come up to a counter, tell someone what they wanted, wait while it was being specially made just for them, and then, sit and drink it with their friends just like a normal person.
For a few moments, their worries melted away in a warm cup of espresso, steamed milk, and white peppermint mocha syrup. They talked freely and laughed. There was a certain amount of dignity in drinking this latte.
For me, it is easy to look at a person in a shelter or out on the street and get caught up trying to understand how they got there and what I can do to "fix" their problem. I want to say that I care for them, but my "doing" mentality can sometimes keep me from loving them the way they are, or giving the dignity they deserve.
God is at work all the time. Not only is He drawing me to Himself, He is drawing others as well, even those homeless men or women we occasionally see on the street.
He calls us to take time and love people where they are, treating them with the kind of dignity love demands. Though, I can’t say something in my conversation explicitly pointed this woman to Christ, but I believe God was at work in her heart. I know He was at work in mine.
