We give regularly to the homeless ministry at my church. There's room on a first-come, first-served basis for 16 guests in the courtyard of the church offices nightly. A guard is provided for their safety. Breakfast is served to them every morning. On Christmas and Easter, our church family's donations even send them to a motel for the holiday. I can't tell you how wonderful it feels ot be a part of it.
Yet, while that feels great, there's something so special about a direct connection. Our niece lost her husband early this year. He was only 41. On the months when we could write a check to the special fund set aside for her two children, I felt like the richest woman on earth in love and spirit. When we can "help take care of our own," it feels so right. I happened to recall yesterday (my mind must have been giving me a preview of this post!) the several times I have helped friends out with gifts of time or treasure in hard times. There is nothing I do more willingly with less thought of return, because to me, it's the kind of act that is the essence of friendship and family.
Joyce Mason
Member, Boomer Diva Nation
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