Steve and Deb LaForge: Partners in a Life of Service

When Steve and Deb LaForge first met, Steve was very involved with Habitat for Humanity.  After they got married in 2007, Deb also got involved with Habitat and together they became project supervisors, helping to direct volunteer groups in the building of new homes.

One of the homes they oversaw belonged to Randall, who had been a participant in Room In The Inn’s recovery program. Randall had actually worked on the construction crew for Room In The Inn’s new facility in 2009 and 2010, saving his earnings to pay for his new home. Other recovery program participants, along with staff members from Room In The Inn, volunteered to help build, under the capable supervision of the LaForges.

On the day of Randall’s house dedication, Steve and Deb had the chance to meet Charles Strobel and others from Room In The Inn. Inspired by the way the Room In The Inn community had come together to support Randall, they wanted to get more involved. Their congregation, Woodmont Christian, was part of Room In The Inn’s winter shelter program. Steve and Deb responded to a plea for overnight hosts. Steve says, “we became an overnight pair and have had many wonderful experiences. We love that this is something we can do together.”

Woodmont Christian is one of Room In The Inn’s “on call” congregations, meaning that in addition to hosting guests on a weekly basis, the congregation often opens its doors on nights that are freezing cold, snowy, or icy. Woodmont’s extra efforts, combined with those of other on call congregations, means fewer or no people turned away from a night of safe shelter. Deb notes the importance of being there for her neighbors who have nowhere else to turn, saying, “I would pray that if I found myself in that situation someone would be there for me, bringing to life ‘do to others as you would have them do to you.’ I know I would not want to find myself out in the cold with no place to go. Because I do have a place to go, I want to share what I can.”

As much as Steve and Deb love serving others themselves, getting other people involved is just as gratifying. They recall inviting a new family with teenage daughters to get involved. The first night these new volunteers served, the church had set up a television to watch football and served barbeque and popcorn. The girls and the guests were divided on who they were cheering for, and as Steve remembers, “it was like having all of your friends over to your house for the big game.”

The LaForges attended last summer’s Second Sunday Series, an educational opportunity for Room In The Inn volunteers. Steve says, “Using the information the staff provided, we have widened our Room In The Inn program to not only serve the gentlemen, but also women and families. We have a better knowledge of the challenges our guests face every day.”

In thinking about the impact of Second Sunday, Deb said, “it was good to learn that there is no one way of hosting and providing for our Room In The Inn guests. Each congregation does it a little differently.

Deb sums up her experience with Room In The Inn by saying “We both have had occasions where we’ve been able to share stories with our guests.  We’ve cried with them, we’ve laughed, we’ve prayed with one another, and each time it’s been a humbling experience. It becomes its own form of addiction and the desire to serve grows each time because you want to hold tight to that feeling.”

Ann & Charles Riddle and Kenny Elliot: Living for Today

by Miranda Buell

Kenny Elliot bought a fifth of vodka on the day he took his last sip of alcohol.

As he was drinking on his couch he began talking to the empty room, planning out his recovery, telling himself he was going to get up and leave, and finally passed out. When he came to, he packed a bag full of dirty clothes and walked to the Guest House at Room In The Inn. He was ready to make a change, but things weren’t easy at first. “When I first came to this place, I thought I had died and went to hell,” Kenny says of his first days. He was hesitant to participate: “I was just there for a bed every night, but I heard something in the meetings that got me listening.” One of the teachers was discussing recovery and Kenny realized he was desperate for whatever that man had. So he started helping out around the Guest House and cleaning, doing whatever he could to keep moving. Working kept him away from the temptation to leave. “As I went on I just got stronger,” he says.

That’s when he met the Riddles. Ann Riddle is Room In The Inn founder Charlie Strobel’s first cousin, and those close familial ties have kept her and her husband, Charles, at the heart of Room In The Inn for many years. Kenny met Ann while she was teaching a computer class and Kenny, in dire need of recovering his drivers’ license after having it revoked after a DUI several years prior, asked Ann for her help. She obliged, and they began studying from the Driver’s Education book together every Tuesday for about a year. But when Kenny went to take the test for the first time it was on a computer; he wasn’t familiar with the format and he failed. So Ann and Kenny began again, this time practicing online. Kenny passed his second attempt with flying colors – he only missed one question. “It was just jubilation,” says Ann of Kenny getting his license.

The Riddles say everything went uphill from there. Kenny became employed at Room In The Inn, took some additional cleaning jobs around town, and continued his journey through recovery. Of his position on campus, he says, “The reason I try to keep this place clean is because I’m clean. Sometimes I’ll see a piece of trash and walk by it, and then think about it and turn right back around and pick it up.” He doesn’t take anything for granted.

And Ann and Charles haven’t just been around to encourage Kenny in his growth; they’ve been there for the challenges as well. Two years ago Kenny had a series of heart attacks and underwent four bypass surgeries. At first, Ann says, he didn’t want to go through with the procedures. But the Riddles told him, “Hey Kenny. It’s just like your truck. If a pipe bursts on your truck you get it fixed.” After he was out of the hospital, the Riddles helped him get settled back into his apartment. They recall him walking through the doorway and looking up at the ceiling: A lightbulb was out. Without hesitation, he walked downstairs to the basement, grabbed what he needed, and came back upstairs to change the lightbulb, all in his first moments home from the hospital.

It is that fierceness, that will to move forward, that sense of pride in his work, which the Riddles find so incredible about Kenny. Ann says, “It’s been [an adventure] in that he keeps going and keeps fighting, and I mean the tenacity is just amazing. He’s very amazing to me. I mean, truly amazing man. If everybody could be like Kenny, we wouldn’t have so much sadness going around.” What could have been a one-off opportunity to help a man in need of a license has turned into a life-long friendship between Kenny and the Riddles. Through his friendship with Ann and Charles, Kenny has come to realize how much people care about him, and how important the small things in life are. “As a kid I wanted everything, but today I just want to live.”

On May 17^th Kenny will be teaching a class at Room In The Inn to honor the day that will mark his 6 years of sobriety. And you can bet Ann and Charles Riddle will be sitting front-row, beaming with joy.

From left to right: Charles Riddle, Kenny Elliot, & Ann Riddle

Jack and John: Laughter is the Best Medicine

Jack Lunn and John Grapes

by Jeff Moles

By day, Jack Lunn works in sales, as he has for 37 years. By night, he is a stand-up comedian. As he puts it, “I’ve worked about every comedy gig you could do in my 15 years of doing stand-up. From Zanies, to a psychiatric convention, to doing Elvis impersonation at a corporate conference in Chicago, to driving five hours to perform twenty minutes for free, to working the seediest little bars and hang-outs you can do. It’s all part of the world of stand-up comedy, and I’ve done it.”

However, Jack’s favorite place to share his comedic gifts is Room In The Inn. Since 2010, laughter has been reverberating through the halls of Room In The Inn when “Funnyman Jack” is teaching his comedy class. “My goal is to get laughs early and often, not just from me, but from everybody. I get them to write jokes, tell jokes, brainstorm. I challenge them. They get a chance to perform in the end.”

It is rare to not find John Grapes sitting in Jack’s classroom on a Friday. John has been struggling with homelessness for three years, and takes part in many of the educational opportunities offered at Room In The Inn. Comedy class is his favorite.

John spent years in the music industry. He played drums with such superstars as Eddie Rabbit, Kitty Wells, James Brown, and George Jones. He says, “Music is all I wanted to do since fourth grade, and I made it work.”

Suffering from severe stage fright made performing difficult for John. He turned to drugs and alcohol to numb the anxiety that would overtake him. John got clean thirty years ago, but a physical ailment kept him from continuing with his passion for performing. Looking back, he wishes he would have listened to his father’s advice to finish school, and to have a “plan B” to fall back on.

About John, Jack says, “John self-admittedly has stage fright, one of the big causes he says for picking up some bad habits that were a negative influence in his life. I believe stand-up comedy has hit this problem head on and given John more self-confidence, particularly in front of an audience. Laughter brightens his life.”

Jack says that he knows he can depend on John, something that is reinforced in the community nature of his comedy classes. Community is an active force in his classroom. “My class does a lot of brainstorming and that means all of us pulling together on the same rope. We’re always searching for that killer joke. And by working together, a lot of times we get there. I love it when students laugh and support one another’s material and jokes and performance.”

John says that the encouragement he gets from Jack and his classmates is invaluable. It helps him look his fear of being on stage head on. Every few months, Jack and his students present a comedy showcase in Room In The Inn’s Clancey’s Café. Jack is constantly looking for new student comedians to perform, and also relies on his regular class members like John.

In John’s words, “I like to share my comedy because it lets people get away from themselves for a few minutes. They don’t dwell on how miserable they are, and they don’t have to use drugs and alcohol to escape. Jokes get people away from the cold, cruel world.”

John says that after he finishes his time on stage it’s like a tremendous weight is lifted off his shoulders. His teacher Jack says, “I don’t know where John is headed, but I hope he gets there. He makes me laugh, early and often. We’re close to the same age and we have a lot of similar likes and interests. So we connect as a couple of friends cuttin’ up and moving through this thing called life. I wish John happiness, clarity, direction, and determination to find his way…wherever his heart desires.”

Melvin and Carl: Watching One Another Win

by Jeff Moles

Melvin Scates and Carl Lillard have been traveling the same path; where they’ve been and where they are going. However, the biggest difference for the two is all in the timing of their journey.

Melvin and Carl met thirty years ago at the Nashville Rescue Mission, where they were both staying. The two became fast friends, working together, and getting high together. Because of his violent behavior, Melvin often found himself kicked out of shelters and other places. When Melvin couldn’t get help, Carl would make sure to bring him food and be sure he was taken care of.

About 15 years ago, Melvin turned his life around. He found God, got involved in church, got married, bought a house, and eventually became a member of the staff at Room In The Inn, where he serves as a care coordinator at the Guest House, a place of recovery for those with addiction issues. Carl says he remembers hearing about Melvin’s turn around, and, laughing, simply says “I didn’t believe it.”

While Melvin’s life looked completely different, Carl’s life continued in struggle with chronic homelessness, addiction, and life on the streets. In June 2015, however, Carl entered the Guest House, where his friend Melvin works. Carl completed a 30-day recovery program, and has spent time working on his sobriety. His goal is to get his life back, get clean, and develop a better relationship with his family. Another Room In The Inn staff member talked to Carl one day when he was drunk and encouraged him to look for a better life. Melvin says, “I’m so glad somebody took the initiative to talk to him. He had to be the one to do it, though.”

“It’s his season. It’s his time now,” said Melvin, “I’ve seen him come from one end to the other. He’s always been a part of me. Helping him is helping me. I’m watching him win.”

One of the lessons Melvin tries to impart on people who come to the Guest House for recovery is to take advantage of the help others offer. “When somebody puts their hand out to help, grab it,” he says.

Now Carl has joined Melvin in offering help to others. Carl has taken the lead in offering hospitality to guests who are often intoxicated and difficult to care for. The two men share a bond from living on the streets with one another that makes their working relationship special. They have a direct understanding of the suffering and pain of addiction, but also the great freedom of sobriety. They each credit the other with teaching the lesson of patience. Carl says, “You have to see the good things that are coming. You’ve got to be patient. Slow down and wait.”

Melvin and Carl’s eyes light up when they think about the work that is still in front of them. They look forward to inspiring others they know to start the journey of recovery. Melvin says, “I just thank God for looking over both of us. There will be more.”

Room In The Inn Over 30 Years

by Charles Strobel, Founding Director

Over the years I’ve wondered just what impact Room In The Inn has had on people—I’m not really sure.  I do know this.  I was out in the country recently and looked up at the stars and saw all these thousands and thousands of stars.  And I wondered that if each of those stars represented a person who had come through Room In The Inn over the years—if they had nothing else in their life that meant anything—they could at least say that once upon a time in Nashville, Tennessee, I met some people who loved me just the way I was.

I am not sure the Nashville community at-large understands Room In The Inn’s importance.  Can you imagine the last 30 years in Nashville without the Room In The Inn?  Imagine the additional hardship and misery that some of our citizens would have had to endure if it did not exist.

Instead, we are thankful that the Room In The Inn religious communities realize that the suffering of the homeless is a burden that thousands of volunteers cannot ignore and must carry together.

So we celebrate thirty years of service, but we also look ahead longing for the day when all of our citizens can find a permanent place—their own room in the inn.

What started out in 1986 with 4 congregations has grown in size to 190+ during this time.  In addition to our winter shelter that addresses emergency needs of food, clothing, shelter and personal hygiene services, we have added long-term services of education, employment, medical and residential.

Finally, Room In The Inn gets its name from a story in the Bible of a family coming to a small town called Bethlehem and not finding any room in the inn.  We cannot go back in history 2,000 years and change that story, but what we do in Nashville each evening we are open, is to reverse that story’s ending by providing room in the inn.

As we continue our 30th season, we have so many reasons to give thanks.  So I want to thank you for all that you’ve done for us in our past and ask for your continued help in our future.

We Remember - We Act

James Alexander

by Jeff Moles

This weekend, Nashville will remember 70 members of its homeless and formerly homeless community who died in 2015. Most of these were people who were well known to us at Room In The Inn. They were and are part of our community, important for being exactly who they were and missed because of the relationships we had with them. To mention just a few:

Arthur “Sal” Peck enjoyed spending time in our art room, and had a great sense of humor. He died
after a bout with cancer.

Jason Vaughan, a young man known as “Cowboy” for the boots and hat he wore, died when he fell from a ledge near where he was camping downtown. His sly smile and love for music will be what we remember.

James Alexander lived in our apartments after he struggled with homelessness. He gave back many hours of volunteer time, cleaning and working in our kitchen.

Thomas Holt

Thomas Holt came to us several years ago, just out of prison and well-conditioned that violent, abusive environment. Over time, we got to know the real Thomas, who enjoyed telling jokes, doing volunteer work, talking to anyone who would listen, and eating more sweets than his doctor advised.

Margie Lucas lived on the streets since she was a young woman, and endured much more than her share of difficulty in life. She succumbed to a long-term illness.

Kenneth Keesee reconnected with family in his later years. A favorite memory of him is a day when we did karaoke at Room In The Inn. Ken was right in the middle of a big circle of people belting out “We Are Family” as loudly as he could. He was killed by a drunk driver this year.

The memorial tree that stands in our main entrance at Room In The Inn bears the names of over 650 homeless individuals who died after struggling with homelessness. For me, its presence inside our front door serves two purposes. It is a reminder of each of the individuals who were so important to us. When we see their names, we remember their faces and stories. But it is also a slap in the face as I walk in the door. It is a reminder that we are responding to an emergency. In a wealthy and growing city, we do not provide enough

affordable housing for people. Most of us go about our lives like nothing is wrong as thousands go without housing. As a result, people experience homelessness and are robbed of years and even decades of time from their lives. The average life expectancy of someone living on the streets is only 48 years. This is not acceptable, and our job will never be done until we ensure that everyone has the opportunity to live a life of dignity. And these lives saved will not be complete until we offer the gift of belonging and unconditional love.

And so we gather to remember the men and women whose lives have been lost, but may we also resolve to act. As a people, we will never be truly great until each of our neighbors is treated with the dignity that we all deserve.

Members of Nashville's Homeless Community who died in 2015

Arthur “Sal” Peck

Leon Brooks

Bryant Crenshaw

Cardell O’Quinn*

Clarence Leron Murphy

Clyde Hicks

Cris Cumner

Danny Anderson

Danny Costello*

David Milliken

Debra Johnson*

Delores Graham* 

Denise Hixson

Donald Lewis Wilson Jr.

Edward Washington

Gary Silcott*

Gloria Foster

Neice Parrish

Greg

Gregory Latimer

Hilton D’Wayne Pitts

Homer Wilson

Howard Bottoms*

James Alexander*

James Carruthers

James Larry Moore, “Alabama”*

James Mitchell

James Primm

Jason Vaughan

Jeff Forgy

John Frakes

John Perry

John Wesley Brown*

Joseph Dies

Jason Vaughan

Joseph Truitt

Kenneth Keesee

Kevin Sullivan

Larry Almond

Leon Brooks

Lloyd Barnes

L.W. Hoffmeyer*

Marcus McLaurine

Marcus Moore

Margie Lucas*

Mary Brown*

Michael Moss Magidovitch

Michael O’Carrol

James Primm

Mike Willers

Neice Parrish*

Norman Wayne Dugger

Olivia Davis

Pamela Zanardi*

Randall Allen White, “Cowboy”

Randy “Jimmy” Wilson

Richard Granbeck*

Richard Nash

Robert McMurtry

Robert Stites*

Roger Loftis

Marcus McLaurine

Ronnie Bunch

Roy Smith

Sally Herz*

Sandy Wilson

Shannon Curtis

Steve Stevens

Tami McKenzie

Terrance Eddings

Thomas Holt*

Timothy Waggoner

William Carter William Crain*

William Edward Brown

*denotes the person was formerly homeless

Waiting

I am at a loss. In the past 48 hours, the Room In The Inn community has lost three people. One died of a chronic medical condition, one was struck by a car downtown, and I'm not sure what happened to the third. As we were mourning these losses, I found out about the shootings in California.

I don't understand. Both in my work and in my personal life, I know so many people who are exceptionally good---not just "nice" people, but people who pour out their hearts and energies to care for others. These are people who are desperately trying to make God's kingdom a reality. They are flooding the darkness with their light.

But today, my heart hurts. Today, it seems as though the darkness has the upper hand.

I believe with all my heart that love wins in the end. The struggle is holding on to hope and trusting in the power of redemption.

Maybe it's fitting that it is the season of Advent, the time of waiting. May we have the grace and strength to persevere until our hope is fully realized.

by Mary Wilder

The Inn Crowd: Karen's Story

Karen B. is not only seeking a new life – she is also chasing after hope. In 2001 Karen moved to Nashville to be with her dad as he was struggling with cancer. “He made me promise that I would stay away from drugs and alcohol,” says Karen. “But when he passed away I went straight for the bottle.”


Karen came to Room In The Inn for a place to stay, not to seek treatment. It wasn’t until one day she realized that she wanted to get clean. “Your family can want you to get help, mine did. But, I can’t seek help successfully unless I do it for me, because Karen wants to. And right now, I want to.”


Karen has been staying at the Guest House and has quickly become part of this family. She helps with chores, making plates for people, and stays overnight for on site shelter. She attends Women’s Group daily and has earned a lot of respect from the ladies. “I put in long volunteer hours, but I consider that part of my recovery,” says Karen. “One day I hope to come back and work at RITI. I want to continue giving to people.”


It has been a long road for Karen, but when asked where she finds her hope she says, “I think back to that promise I made my dad, and I’m finally making strides to keep it. I talk to him a lot and know he is shining down on me.”


For the future Karen wants to share her story. “I have experience and I believe through that I can gain people’s trust because they’ll know that I’ve been there too.”

Ash Wednesday

by Jeff Moles

Like many in Nashville today, I won’t have any ashes smudged on my forehead as I typically would

on Ash Wednesday. Instead, we got a dusting of snow on top of the thickly accumulated ice we already had, and most church services today were canceled. I didn’t need the ashes, though, to remind me of the problem of mortality. I simply had to walk downstairs from my office where hundreds of people suffering from homelessness were huddled, hoping to find shelter from tonight’s deadly sub-zero temperatures. But as I left Room In The Inn tonight, I also saw people of faith pulling up to our door in their vans and buses. Volunteers in thick coats were filing into the door, some having been with us multiple nights this week. I thought of the prophet Isaiah's words:

Is such the fast that I choose,

          a day to humble oneself?

     Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush,

          and to lie in sackcloth and ashes?

     Will you call this a fast,

          a day acceptable to the LORD?

  Is not this the fast that I choose:

          to loose the bonds of injustice,

          to undo the thongs of the yoke,

     to let the oppressed go free,

          and to break every yoke?

  Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,

          and bring the homeless poor into your house;

     when you see the naked, to cover them,

          and not to hide yourself from your own kin?

Room In The Inn’s congregations provided 650 extra shelter beds this week, with more than 150 extra beds offered tonight alone. On this Ash Wednesday night, Nashville has remembered that we are all sisters and brothers in the frailty of life. It has looked for its most vulnerable and welcomed them in. Imagine the result if we let this night of hospitality transform us into people who always care for one another and who make sure nobody is left out. Our frigid Ash Wednesday night might just look more like a warm Easter morning.

  if you offer your food to the hungry
          and satisfy the needs of the afflicted,
     then your light shall rise in the darkness
          and your gloom be like the noonday.
  The LORD will guide you continually,
          and satisfy your needs in parched places,
          and make your bones strong;
     and you shall be like a watered garden,
          like a spring of water,
          whose waters never fail.
  Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt;
          you shall raise up the foundations of many generations;
     you shall be called the repairer of the breach, 
          the restorer of streets to live in.

People seeking shelter at Room In The Inn on Mon., Feb. 16

(Isaiah 58:5-12, NRSV, Revised Common Lectionary Reading for Ash Wednesday)

This Thing Called Love - Martin Luther King, Jr. Day

Post by Room In The Inn.

Miracle on Belmont Boulevard

Story and Photos by Suzanne Lynch, Christ the King Catholic Church 

From November until March, Christ the King continues its long history of hosting guests through Room In The Inn. This season, the ministry is opening its doors to more overnight guests, increasing from last year’s 15 homeless men, women and children to 20. With the ample room and comfortable facilities the school offers, the increase in guests is easily accommodated. And with a strong force of volunteers they are all equally cared for as well. Director John Green fondly tells the guests to expect five-star service.

Room In The Inn is not designed to be another homeless shelter. Instead, it strives to create an environment of acceptance and to put faith into action. Room In The Inn’s website describes the program as a way for more people in every sector to understand the problems of the homeless by becoming directly involved with people who are homeless. The evenings provide an opportunity to receive a blessing from God in the midst of suffering, hardship and grief.

A blessing is what you will receive when you come to break bread with the guests. “Parishioners will see a revelation of Christ when they participate,” said Louis Roberts, a long-time volunteer who currently assists John. “Guests sit and bond with parishioners—there isn’t a separation.” 

Returning guests are quick to tell you how much they enjoy being at Christ the King. “You just open the door and welcome us in. You don’t push or make us do things your way,” said Gwyneth, a woman whose countenance is filled with love for Jesus and whose hard life she is quick to share. “This week I was car-jacked but God told me I didn’t need that car. God has always taken care of me.”

That is just a glimpse of a blessing you will receive—a recipient of Gwyneth’s joy for knowing Christ. You may also witness a miracle. At Room In The Inn, they happen all the time. For example, over Thanksgiving a gentleman suffering from Alzheimer’s got lost in the school and became disoriented. In the process of trying to find out who he was, it was discovered he had been reported missing by his son in Minnesota. Louis recalls how moving it was to call and tell the man his father was safe.

Many of the volunteers have been coming to help at Room In The Inn for years. Louis says it’s because the experience is so rewarding. The volunteers find fellowship not just with the guests, but with each other. While they go about their tasks preparing for the evening, there is opportunity for friendships to develop.

The evening dinner is started early in the day by Donald St. Charles, Kate Dumas and other volunteers. Donald has been cooking for the program for at least six years. By 5:30 p.m. volunteers have arrived to get the beds ready—led by Father Ryan Junior, Gina Schmid. A volunteer since her first experience as a Christ the King 8^th grader, she recalls the first time she came, how friendly everyone was and that her second time, how the guests remembered her. Those relationships keep her returning every week, even Thanksgiving and Christmas Day.

Gina instructs the teens and younger children to put cases on the pillows and make the beds. Parents are here too, and young adults looking for a place to become the hands and feet of Christ. Carly Moffa and Matt Brown are two such young parishioners who wanted to be more involved with their church. They have been coming every week this season and bringing their friends.

“When I met Gwyneth and saw how happy she was to be here, to have one more meal—she was enjoying the moment regardless of her situation, I was inspired,” said Matt, who has been in Nashville just a year. “I really enjoy coming. It makes me feel more at home.”

Carly was moved to go a step further in caring for the guests and asked if she could offer the ladies a “girls night” with manicures and facials. “I wanted the ladies to feel pampered and to get what they needed. And I wanted to connect with them and talk to them about Jesus,” she said. So on the evening of December 3, Carly brought all the necessities, having spent time visiting salons and asking for samples as well as collecting from friends. Miraculously, of course, the same evening Carly spoke with John about her idea, he received a call from another parishioner, Michelle Fisher, who is a stylist and wanted to offer the guests haircuts. Carly also brought her friend Simone Parke who is also a stylist. The guests were thrilled and there was lots of conversation, laughter and sharing during the process. Even the men weren’t shy about getting their hair cut, beards trimmed and even a manicure.

Many people are involved every week at Room In The Inn. From the drivers who pick up the guests downtown to those who do the laundry, there is a place for everyone and everyone is invited. Join Room In The Inn every Wednesday for dinner. It’s a bargain and if you are quick, you might get a slice of Mrs. Carmen Kavass’ homemade pound cake. She brings two of them Wednesday afternoon, still warm from the oven—one for the evening meal and the other sliced and divided into baggies for the guests to take with them on Thursday.

First Coming

We use this reading, adapted from the poem "First Coming" by Madeline L'Engle to close our annual Blue Christmas worship service at Room In The Inn.


God did not wait until the world was ready, till…nations were at peace.

God came when the Heavens were unsteady and prisoners cried out for release.

God did not wait for the perfect time.

God came when the need was deep and great. God dined with sinners in all their grime, turned water into wine.

God did not wait till hearts were pure.

In joy, God came to a tarnished world of sin and doubt. To a world like ours, of anguished shame, God came and God’s light would not go out.

God came to a world which did not mesh; to heal its tangles, shield its scorn.

In the mystery of the Word made flesh, the maker of the stars was born.

We cannot wait till the world is sane to raise our songs with joyful voice, or to share our grief, to touch our pain.

God came with love: Rejoice! Rejoice!

Beautiful Feet

by Jeff Moles

Stories from scripture remind us of the importance of our feet.  God, calling from the burning bush, instructed Moses to take off his shoes because the ground on which he stood was holy.  At the home of Lazarus, Mary washes Jesus’ feet with her tears.  On the last night of his life, in an act of humility, Jesus washed the feet of his disciples, saying “so if I your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.”

With this expression of spirituality as our starting place, people gather in a room that normally serves as an art studio each week at Room In The Inn, Nashville’s comprehensive center for people struggling with homelessness.  Staff and volunteers come together to create a sacred space, where physical needs can be met and spiritual ones too.  Our foot clinic is a place where people who call the streets their home encounter others who are not there to judge their lives or question their contribution to society.  In fact, the people who staff the foot clinic are most aware of the hard work that it takes to be homeless.  We see the scars on feet, and the weariness of spirits that come to us.  And so we serve, washing feet as Jesus asked us to do.  We are served in return by the humor and the hope that we see in people we discover to be very much like us.

In thinking about why we need a foot clinic, it would be easy to speak only of the many hours homeless people spend on their feet standing in lines, walking, and working.  But these are not the only things our feet were created to do.

One afternoon a few years ago, toward the end of a particularly cold winter, a member of our staff put on some music in our day center.  The rhythmic sounds of Stevie Wonder, Diana Ross, and Marvin Gaye filled the room where people congregate during the day.  I looked up, expecting to see the tightly-packed crowd in all of its usual tension.  Instead, I saw some movement.  Two women in the room were twirling one another around to the beat of the music.  Pretty soon, chairs were being moved out of the way, and more people got onto their feet.  Even I, not the best or most confident dancer by a long shot, got into the act.  A dance party had broken out in our homeless shelter.  Sorrows were forgotten, anger was diffused, and worry was replaced with fun, if only for an afternoon.

We care for feet not only because they are important for work and survival, but because it humbles us all, reminding us of the command to love one another.  We clip nails and massage feet not only to relieve pain, but because too many people are deprived of human touch that is not sexual or violent.  We take the risk of removing our shoes and entering into another person’s life not only because we are crazy (and some might say we are!), but because we need these feet to become instruments of peace.  We need them for dancing, our statement to the world that even in the midst of hardship, there is reason for joy.

How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of the messenger who announces peace, who brings good news, who announces salvation, who says to Zion, “Your God reigns.”  Listen! Your sentinels lift up their voices, together they sing for joy; for in plain sight they see the return of the Lord to Zion.  Break forth together into singing, you ruins of Jerusalem; for the Lord has comforted his people, he has redeemed Jerusalem.   –Isaiah 52:7-9

Join Nashville's Inn Crowd

by Mary Wilder
Room In The Inn Winter Shelter Director

Everyone wants to be cool. None of us really get past that feeling we had in school, that desire to fit in with just the right group. We all look for our place to belong.

As adults, though, our criteria for choosing a group may mature. We may look for people who pursue similar professional goals or who share interests with us. Recently, I searched for a book club to join. A quick internet search uncovered dozens of choices representing every genre of literature imaginable. There is a web site called Meet Up, which features clubs from Scrabble playing to hiking to poetry writing. We are all searching for ways to connect and find meaning.

Then there is the Inn Crowd.  For twenty-nine years Room In The Inn has been a community of people bound together to offer shelter and compassion to people experiencing homelessness. 188 congregations open their doors to welcome guests in the winter months. It is a ministry that creates a real mutuality, a chance to break down barriers that separate us. We take part in time together and focus on relationship in the simple act of offering a meal and a place to stay.  It is a movement that allows people to experience something sacred. On one level, Room In The Inn is about bringing people inside from the cold. But, in a profound way, it is about encountering God in the faces around the table.

The polar vortex last winter taught us a hard lesson at Room In The Inn. We learned how brutal and life-threatening the weather can be. In response, we are working diligently to expand The Inn Crowd. We are asking congregations already part of Room In The Inn to do one of two things: take an extra guest or two or schedule extra nights in the coldest months of January and February. We also need help identifying congregations who do not take part in Room In The Inn and invite them to join us. We are looking for contacts within those congregations.

Everyone should know what it is like to be in The Inn Crowd.

Contact Mary to let her know how you and your congregation plan to help.

Education: Shakespeare Allowed!

In an effort to promote literacy and the arts, Room In The Inn has partnered with the Nashville Shakespeare Festival, the nonprofit responsible for bringing many local theater traditions including Shakespeare in the Park, to offer Shakespeare Allowed!, a twice-weekly class where people come together to read through the works of William Shakespeare round-robin style and to share their experiences and insights with the plays and their many adventures.

The first play the group read through was the Shakesperean comedy, "As You Like It." The play is full of many lighthearted moments, but somewhat surprisingly to the class instructor Nettie Kraft, the play gave the participants the chance to process through a lot of the struggles they have or are facing. The play focuses on a family torn apart by pettiness and people who are left to live in the forest when the people in the royal court reject them. According to Kraft, many of the students in her class felt a connection with some of these characters. 

"As You Like It" will be the play performed during this year's Shakespeare in the Park, held in August and September in Centennial Park. Room In The Inn students who participated in all or nearly all the Shakespeare Allowed! classes for this play will be given the opportunity to go watch the play for free one evening and stay in the Guest House--as most Nashville overnight shelters require check-in prior to when the play would end.

After a short break, Shakespeare Allowed! returned and is currently reading through the classic tragedy, Macbeth, at student request. Classes are held on Tuesdays and Thursday at 1:30 p.m.

Cathy Link reflects on her first year at Room In The Inn

by Cathy Link, RN
Recuperative Care Manager, Room In The Inn

It’s hard to believe a whole year has passed since I began my journey home.  Being a nurse in Nashville for over 30 years has led me down many roads, ending right here on Drexel Street.  Those other paths almost prepared me for the most challenging position I have had.

My entire career has been one of assisting and caring for the most vulnerable, the powerless, and the disenfranchised through the VA, public health, public schools, psychiatric intensive care, and community psychiatric crisis services.  But to face day to day the overwhelming and complicated medical, social, and emotional needs of truly “the least of these” has stretched me in ways I had no idea I could reach.  I have been honored to care for, advocate for, share in joys and sorrows, celebrate healing and life, feel the pain of death, and the fear of continuing the struggle of homelessness for hundreds of referred individuals.

Even my past work experience did not prepare me to daily face this very ill population who lack adequate funding and access to health care.  Just this year we have sheltered and cared for those who have had open heart surgery, brain surgery, lung surgery, surgery for cancer, surgeries for multiple orthopedic injuries, gynecological surgery, chemotherapy, severe COPD, post stroke, amputations, uncontrolled diabetes, kidney failure, dialysis patients, liver failure, severe rheumatoid arthritis, congestive heart failure, major depression, schizophrenia, major phobias, bipolar disorder, severe anxiety disorders, burn patients, and HIV/AIDS patients. The lack of funding and limited access to care continues to shock me and break my heart.

To add to these burdens approximately 90 percent of those entrusted to our care have drug and alcohol addiction with the complicating social factors of disconnections from family and friends, incarcerations, and criminal records.

Anyone remotely involved in the world of healthcare knows how fragmented our system is.  To hobble together and care for not “these people” but “my people” is like working on a big puzzle; I’m trying every day to put the pieces together.

I am ably assisted by my recuperative care coordinator, Charlotte West.  She guides me and keeps me sane

Charlotte West

by keeping all the spread sheets and statistics of recuperative care, by the loving and caring staff throughout Room In The Inn, from the staff who prepare our food, to direct care, to day center staff who provide case management consultation and support, and to our own workforce team who assist with job placement.

Last of all, the care provided for our friends and neighbors has been a gift from our wonderful partners, which include United Neighborhood Health's Downtown Clinic, Metro General Hospital, Vanderbilt University Medical Center, HCA Hospitals: Centennial, Skyline, Southern Hills & Summit, St. Thomas West and Midtown, MTMHI, Nashville Cares, and Comprehensive Care Center.

It is my privilege to serve.

Volunteer Workday

During the summer, volunteers come in for a volunteer workday on the third Saturday of the month.  We spend the better part of the morning doing work around the grounds to help give Room In The Inn a facelift after a hectic winter season.

This past work day we had groups come from Kentucky and different parts of Tennessee.  They had projects to paint the storage cubbies, plant an herb garden, stripe the parking lot, and help clean the chairs in the dining room.  It was a wonderful day to serve with people who support the mission of RITI (and help us look good too)!

We are thankful for our volunteers!


For more information contact, volunteer@roomintheinn.org

Love, Fear, and Toenails In Your Hair

This entry was written by volunteer Scott Dannemiller, who blogs at The Accidental Missionary.  He wrote this reflection a few years ago after participating in our foot clinic.  We are re-posting it on this Maundy Thursday, a day when we remember love expressed through the washing of feet.

12 When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. “Do you understand what I have done for you?” he asked them.13 “You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am.14 Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. 15 I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. 16 Very truly I tell you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. 17 Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them. John 13: 12-17

 “You ready to go to lunch?”  Gabby asked.

“Not yet.” I said.  “I just need to pick a homeless man’s toenails out of my hair.”

She nodded in agreement.  Like it was no big deal.

It was not a typical conversation.  But today was not a typical day. 

I beg forgiveness in advance for diving into a brief discussion of our year as missionaries in Guatemala. I know I’ve told the story a million times.  Like the million times your dad told you how he used to be so poor that his mom packed baked bean sandwiches in his school lunchbox.  OK.  So maybe that’s just my dad.  But the story bears repeating anyway. 

About ten years ago, after spending roughly a decade in the corporate world, Gabby and I went a little looney, sold the house, sold the cars, and spent year serving as missionaries in Guatemala. Unfortunately, we didn’t save million orphans or cure malaria, but we did live with an amazing indigenous family of Mayan descent and learned more about the world than we could have ever imagined.

Prior to quitting our mission year, Gabby and I hadn’t done a lot of service, so when you embark on such a life-altering adventure your first shot out of the gate, it can leave you feeling a bit like Norah Jones whose first album won eight Grammy awards. 

“That’s nice and all. But what have you done lately?”

The answer? Not much.

Instead of feeling content with what could arguably be called a selfish year of service (yes, you read that right), I am left wondering what else I could do.  How can I truly be selfless?  What opportunities exist that could be God-centered enough to help rekindle a deep spiritual connection, while at the same time be challenging enough to scare the Baby Ruth out of me like Guatemala did?

I got my answer a few weeks ago in an email from my friend Jeff.

“I have a great opportunity for you service-minded types.  Nashville’s third annual Project Homeless Connect is coming up. I am coordinating Room In The Inn’s foot clinic, and I need volunteers to help me.   Volunteering would entail offering basic foot care–washing feet, clipping nails, and giving a foot massage.  For anyone who is a little squeamish about feet, there are ways you can help as well.  It really is not as bad as you might think.”

I had to read the email twice.

Is this a God-centered opportunity?  Sure.  The Bible says that Jesus performed just such a spa treatment for his disciples, complete with exfoliating brush and tea-tree oil (Book of John, paraphrase).

Is this a challenging/scary opportunity?

It depends.

I’m not sure where you stand on feet (pun intended).  If you are a nurse, podiatrist, or hiding a foot fetish, this is right up your alley.  You probably wouldn’t think twice.  You could just go on auto-pilot for the day and handle hundreds of feet like a baker handles buns.

But me?

I have a long list of fears.  Ignoring my OCD compulsion with the number 7 and multiples thereof, allow me to showcase just a few of them here. They appear in descending order, from heart-stopper to rash-inducer.

1.       Eating food on or past the expiration date

2.       Not having lip balm

3.       Being trapped with a bad smell (except my own B.O., oddly enough)

4.       Going a full day without showering

5.       Hanging Christmas lights on the tallest gable of our house

6.       Clipping the kids’ toenails

7.       Forgetting to put on deodorant on a muggy day

7a.     Tapioca pudding

7b.     Being sweaty without a change of clothes nearby

7c.      Confronting my wife about something when she’s stressed

As you can see, five or six of these have to do with hygiene in some form.  And this service opportunity would have me facing several fears head-on.  Then I read something else Jeff sent us.

“Organizers are expecting between 1,500 and 2,000 people to receive important services that will help them on their journey toward obtaining housing.  The foot clinic can be an important part of this process.  Physical needs are met, but more importantly it is an experience of sanctuary for our guests, a place where they are cared for as individuals and experience a few moments of unconditional love and respect that can help sustain them in the difficult experience of homelessness”.

Here I am, worried about my crazy phobias while a human being. Flesh and blood. Has no home.  No roof.  No place to feel safe.

For me, it now becomes a simple question to be answered.   

Is love stronger than fear?

I sent Jeff an email to let him know that Gabby and I were in for the foot clinic.  Granted, I hadn’t confirmed this with my wife, but I figured it was only fair that I sign her up for the opportunity since she is the strong half of our marital union, and strangely attracted to physical abnormalities of all sorts.  A menagerie of corns and calluses could be right up her alley.

The day arrived, and Gabby held my hand as we walked into the building.

“Deep breaths,” she said.  “No big deal.”

As soon as we entered, I immediately excused myself to the bathroom. Gabby supported me by stifling a giggle.

The event center was a large exhibit hall.  It was an incredible sight.  Different services and ministries had their own designated area.  There was a place to get your hair cut.  Another area for medical questions.  A section for legal services.  A place to get new ID’s.  All things to help the homeless get back on their feet (pun intended).  As we looked around the hall, the most startling thing is how it would have been next to impossible to distinguish the homeless from the volunteers had it not been for our free, brightly-colored T-shirts.

Children of God.

Then we found Jeff.  He gave us a brief orientation.   I figured I would start small.  Maybe help people fill out the intake form then work my way up to washing the trimmers and pumice pads between sessions.  You know.  Ease my way into it.

Thirty seconds after removing my coat, Hillary, a volunteer coordinator, tapped me on the shoulder.

“We have a space open for foot care.  Can you help out?”

Ding Ding! Round One begins. And Fear just hit Love below the belt!

My heart began to race.  The next thing I knew, I was seated on a stool in front of a metal folding chair.  On the floor was a washtub filled with warm water.  Another volunteer came by and gave me three towels, rubber gloves, nail trimmers, a pumice stone, a nail file, soap and lotion.

“Do you need a cheat sheet?” he asked.

Speechless, I simply nodded.

He brought me the instructions.  I tried to commit them to memory. 

1. Soak feet. 
2. Wash feet with cleanser. 
3. Clean out around and under toenails with cuticle stick.  Really?
4. Clip nails.  Be especially careful with diabetics. 
5. Apply callus remover and scrub with pumice stone to remove calluses. Not sure about that.
6. Massage feet with lotion. 
7. Try not to look like you’re going to soil yourself.

OK.  So the last one was mine.

When I was finished reading, he asked,

“Are you ready?”

I nodded.

“Then I’ll go bring you a client.”

I said a prayer.  Not the prayer you might think.  I prayed for God to settle my nerves.  And perhaps, if it wasn’t too much trouble, he could do this by sending me a client with dainty, pretty feet.  Like Jennifer Aniston.  Or Halle Berry.  Or Ashley Judd. 

I’m not picky.

“Hi, this is Raymond.”

Raymond did not bear any resemblance to the aforementioned women, and had feet the size of canned hams.  I shook his hand and gestured toward the chair before me.

“Make yourself comfortable.”

As Raymond removed his shoes, I asked him if he had any special requests or spots on his feet that needed special attention.  Sore tendons?  Twisted ankle, maybe? 

As he removed his white athletic socks, he pointed to piggy #2 on his left foot.

“You see that one right there?”

“Yes,” I replied, gazing at a thick, discolored nail.

“That one has a fungus on it.  If you could smooth that one out a bit, I’d appreciate it.”

Fear staggers Love with a right cross to the jaw!

I got right to work.  Raymond and I chatted a bit.  He was in construction, but lost his job in the economic downturn.  Now he didn’t have a place to live.  As I scrubbed his size twelves with Cetaphil cleanser, I smiled at the sight of myself.  Here I was, a goofy, skinny, pale corporate consultant seated opposite a giant, homeless guy, caressing his sudsy feet.  Not an image I could have conjured up just a few days before.  But now, it had an air of normalcy to it.

Love stands up straight, ready to take on Fear once more!

Normal, until I started cleaning with the cuticle stick.  I know my own feet can harbor a veritable treasure trove of goodies beneath each nail.  But prospecting for gold underneath a stranger’s toenails is another adventure entirely.  The big toe was particularly awe-inspiring.

Love takes an uppercut to the ribs!

After the cleaning was the clipping.  This wasn’t a huge job, as Raymond took decent care of his feet.  I moved on to buff out some rough spots with the pumice stone, and smoothed out the offending fungal nail with a file.  Next up was the massage, and Raymond was very appreciative.

“Man, I spend a lot of time on my feet walking from place to place.  This is just what I needed.”

Twenty five minutes after we started, Raymond was breathing a sigh of relief, looking more relaxed than before.  He gathered his things and shook my hand.

He left with, “God bless you, sir,” and slowly walked away.

Ding Ding!  Round one is a draw.  The fighters move to neutral corners.

With one client under my belt, I was gaining confidence.  The churning in my belly was reduced to a gentle kneading.

My next client was Kathy.  She was a heavy-set woman from Florida with brown curly hair who walked with some effort.  She had only been in Nashville for the past two months, and was living at the women’s shelter.  She had come to town to look for work and escape unspoken troubles.  She was chatty at first, but as time went by, I caught her leaning back in the chair and closing her eyes.  A soft smile drew across her cheeks.

“I don’t know if I ever remember someone taking care of me like this,” she said. “This is fantastic.”

Love takes round two!

Thirty minutes later, I was tending to James, a wiry Tennessee native.  Compared to Kathy and Raymond, his feet felt like they were filled with helium.  James admitted he had never had anyone tend to his feet before.  A proud man, he mentioned several times how he took very good care of himself, and was only sitting here because a friend recommended it.  He talked about losing his factory job in the recession and living at the mission.

“I can’t go home and stay with my family.  I just get in trouble there.  If I can stay away from them, I’m much better off.”

In that moment I realized how tough this must be for the homeless.  During the good times, you have a steady job and the means to put a roof over your head.  Then something happens and the rug gets ripped out right beneath your tired feet.  Now, you must swallow your pride and admit you can’t do it alone.  I can only imagine how much I would resist that.  Heck, I have a hard time admitting when I’ve had a bad day, much less anything worse. But here was James, reluctantly accepting grace.  I easily saw myself in his chair.

Fear is knocked on its heels in round three!

It was nearing lunch time, so I mentioned to the coordinator that I would take one more person before a quick break to grab a bite.  James left with a handshake and I started to replenish my supplies.

“Hi.  I’m Charles.”

Charles was about 6’3” with plenty of gray hair on his temples.  I’m not sure of his age, but his skin showed that whatever years he had spent on the planet had been hard.  He spoke in a rapid-fire staccato.  He was missing several teeth, which gave him an interesting inflection that colored his speech with a mixture of lisp and drawl.

“Hey Charles.  Nice to meet you.  Take off your shoes and get comfortable.  I’ll be right with you.”

As I said this, Gabby came by and tapped me on the shoulder.  She had just finished with a client and heard that I was about to take a lunch.

“I’m just going to do one more and then I’m taking a break,” I said.  “Could you get me a couple of fresh towels?”

Gabby obliged.  I turned back toward Charles, who had removed his shoes.

“I want them two things gone!” He said with authority as he pointed to his left foot.  When I looked down I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Just when Fear looked like it was down for the count, it connects with a right hook to Love’s jaw. Down goes Love!  Down goes Love!

“It’s been years since I’ve done anything to that one there,” he said.

Years?

He wasn’t kidding.  He touched the nail on his big toe, which, like all the other nails, had outgrown the limits of his shoes and retreated downward, covering the front of every toe like giant thimbles as thick as wooden spoons.  The only thing that prevented them from growing even more was that the bottom of his foot had acted as a file of sorts.  Otherwise, the nails would have covered the soles of his feet.

On his second toe was a growth the size of a marble.  As he touched his big toenail and the growth, he repeated, “I want them two things gone.”

The expression on my face looked as if I had just seen a manatee riding a unicycle.  Completely dumbfounded.

And the referee is counting!  1, 2, 3, 4 ,5 ,6 ,7 ,8… Is this the end of Love?!

Gabby came back with the towels.  She saw Charles’ feet and said in a tone of great understatement,

“I’ll go help with intake.  Let me know when you’re done.”

I turned toward the woman seated on the stool at my right.  She was a registered nurse who had also been providing foot care throughout the morning.   She heard my conversation with Charles.

“Anything special I need to do here?” I begged, secretly hoping she would take my case as a research project.  She only giggled at my novice fear and said,

“Nothing special.  Just trim the nails as best you can, and get a few medicated corn pads to help with the bump there.”

And Love somehow staggers back to his feet!

Charles seemed pleased with the response and settled in, soaking his feet in the tub.  Meanwhile, I was petrified.  I scrubbed his feet with the special soap, hoping against hope that the concoction was something akin to Toenail Nair, which would just make them disappear in a flash of light.

No such luck.

After the soap, I was supposed to use the cuticle stick to get under the nails.  I looked down at the poor stick, and I heard it faintly whimper, so I opted instead to work off the calluses with the pumice stone to allow each foot a bit more soaking time.

The rough side of the stone was like 100 grit sandpaper.  Before I went to work, I asked Charles, “Let me know if this is too uncomfortable for you.”

He replied, “Ain’t nothin’ gonna’ hurt these big size thirteen canoes, boy.  You doin’ a fine job. ”

I worked his foot like an auto body mechanic sanding paint off a Buick.  The pumice wilted under the pressure.  I commented to Charles,

“I think I may rub off a size or two of foot here Charles.  When you walk out of here, you may be an eleven and a half.” 

He laughed at the comment, and added, “Sho ‘nuff.  It’s about time them feet had some work done on ‘em.  This feels real good.  I really appreciate you doing this.”

When the scrubbing was done, it was nail time.  I steadied myself to tackle my fear head-on.  When I grabbed the toenail trimmers, I saw the nurse glance my way.  I believe she was watching to see if I would fold under the pressure.

I wasn’t sure exactly how to handle it.  Because of the unique growth of the nails, there was no way to just take the nail off in one clip.  I would have to whittle away at them, taking off a tiny chip at a time.  The trimmers were the kind that look like a pair of pliers.  I grabbed them firmly in my right hand and settled in on the first chunk of the first nail.

I may not be the strongest man in the world, but I’ve done my fair share of working out.  Still, when I pressed down, the trimmers merely made an impression.  Like I was notarizing his big toe.  It didn’t budge.

Refusing to give in, I grabbed on with both hands and clamped down.  There was a sound like someone snapping a pencil and the first chunk of nail flew off and hit the nurse in the cheek.

“Hold on there now!” Charles joked.  “I don’t wanna’ be responsible for hurtin’ nobody.”

What’s this?!  Love lands a right cross to Fear!

I had to laugh, and so did the nurse.  I continued chopping away at the nail.  As Gabby can attest, the big toe alone took four minutes.  Stuff was flying everywhere.  The area around my seat looked as if someone had been carving one of those bear statues out of an old stump.  Toenail chips hit me in the eye, the cheek, and the lower lip.  My waxy hair care product, an unfortunate choice for the day, was trapping slivers in my coif. My hands got tired.

And Fear takes one on the chin!  Up against the ropes!  Will this be the end?!?!

As I worked, Charles continued to voice his appreciation, and an occasional hint that my grip might be a bit rough.

And God was blessing it all.  Beauty for ashes, as they say.

Because as tough as this was for me, I can only imagine that it was ten times as difficult for him.   If you have no money and no place to live, the last thing you’re concerned about is buying a pair of nail clippers.  And when you look like Charles and live on the street, it’s likely that you could go weeks, if not months, without feeling the physical touch of another human, save for an occasional police officer lifting you off a bench and pointing you elsewhere for the night.

Can you imagine?

I can.

And it must be very lonely.  Enough to make you feel less than human. Like I had treated Charles.  As a pair of feet instead of a man with a soul.

When Charles’s feet were back to normal, I felt beads of sweat on my forehead.  He looked at my handiwork and said,

“Those babies haven’t looked that good in years!  Thank you!”

“We’re not done yet, Charles,” I reminded him.  “We save the best for last.”

I poured peppermint-scented lotion into my hands, and got to work on the feet.  For ten minutes they soaked up a quarter-bottle of the stuff.  He leaned back in the chair, closed his eyes, and sighed.  It was the sound of pure peace.  Breathing in a pleasant scent.  Both of us drenched in human kindness.  Bringing a subtle smile to my face as fear melted into the floor.  Proving once and for all, that when you push yourself to the edge of your faith.

No matter the odds.

Love wins.  Every time.