Recently, I gave a Saturday morning talk and did a book signing at a parish. Beforehand, I took a few moments alone with Jesus to prepare my heart and to ask HIM to work through me that morning and that day. As always, I wanted to be open to His amazing graces and prayed to be able to impart His love, mercy, and teachings to those who would be gathering soon.

I spoke about the Blessed Mother and the Rosary. I am thankful that it was received well. After my talk and book signing, as well as chatting with many who had attended, a woman (I’ll call her Ella) wanted to linger after the others had left so that she could talk with me privately about matters of the heart.

We prayed in the church for awhile before Jesus the Blessed Sacrament and then decided to go out for a bite to eat. I had only had a meager early breakfast and it was now many hours past. So, instead of heading for home as originally planned, I suggested that we go out and get a late lunch together.

We set out for the center of town, deciding upon a family diner where we could sit down and chat. Over salad and soup, we discussed a number of the issues that were pressing on Ella’s mind and heart. During sips of hot Earl Gray tea, I observed that she seemed to be feeling a healthy sense of relief in sharing it all with someone she could trust. She had to get it off her chest. I was more than happy to listen and offer words of encouragement.

Ella and I left the diner because it was about to close up, and we both thought that stretching our legs around the town green seemed to be in order. As we headed down the sidewalk and after about twenty steps, I asked Ella if she would mind if I went back to my car to get my Rosary. So, we turned back to retrieve my red wooden beads from Poland (complete with a St. Faustina relic). I don’t like to be without my Rosary.

The clock strikes three

Just then, I happened to look up at the church on the green. The hands displayed on the clock face let me know that the huge town clock was just about to strike three in the afternoon. A good reminder that the day was flying by.

But, not only that–more importantly, it was almost the Hour of Great Mercy! I asked Ella if she’d like to pray the Divine mercy Chaplet together as we walked. She and I pulled out our Rosary beads and began to pray. Thinking back now, I wish I had snapped a picture of that clock. It seemed absolutely perfectly stunning set against an Autumn sky. Despite that, how wonderful it was to have that opportunity to pray the Chaplet with Ella–right at three o’clock!

So, around the town green we went, praying the powerful prayer that Our Lord had asked of St. Faustina and all of the rest of us as well. We got to a certain area where we could cross the street. I asked Ella if she wanted to cross or continue straight. I could see that there was something going on straight ahead and down the sidewalk a ways. From where we were, it seemed like it was a couple of homeless men with some belongings. Ella was indecisive, so I suggested that we continue ahead. If it was indeed a couple of homeless men, I wanted to at least say, “hello” to them.

We continued our Chaplet, “For the sake of His sorrowful Passion, have mercy on us and on the whole world…”

As we got closer, I could see a police officer who seemed to be standing over a man who was kneeling on the ground. But before we reached them, the man suddenly exited left somehow and I could no longer see him. He disappeared!

I said “hello” to the officer and remarked about the old and abandoned house which had been overgrown with foliage for some years. I thought maybe they were cleaning it out since some things were there on the sidewalk and there was some activity. The policeman said that the new owner would be cleaning the house up in a week or so. He did not let on about what was transpiring.

What is going on?

I spotted an old collapsed pup tent on the sidewalk amid a few odds and ends. It only took about another thirty seconds for me to realize what was actually happening. A homeless man was being evicted from his hidden shelter on the other side of the bushes. Apparently, he had set down some “roots” out of sight and had been camping out on the abandoned property.

Ella and I continued on our way. I felt there was not much I could do since the situation was being handled by the policeman. We crossed the street and headed towards our cars. I was wondering if I could help in any way. Then, I noticed that the police man left the scene.

What we observed next was incredible! We watched from across the street as the man quickly disappeared behind the tall hedges. He actually–just–walked–right through them! Or, so it seemed. It was like he was going into a secret garden!

We stood there on the other side of the green watching for him to emerge again. I told Ella, “I wish I had something to give him.”

In a flash, I remembered something.

“Oh! The cake that you packaged up for me to give to my husband! I’ll get a piece of that and bring it to him.”

And, Ella retrieved a new bottle of water from her vehicle and we made our way back to the other side of the green.

“Jesus in the distressing disguise”

The newly “evicted” man suddenly emerged from the bushes. He had a beard and was wearing scruffy clothes and a knitted cap. Mother Teresa would call him, “Jesus, in the distressing disguise of the poorest of the poor.” He seemed to be getting all of his belongings out and on to the sidewalk. While Ella looked on, I went over to him and said that I was sorry that he had been thrown out of his “home.” He nodded and quietly looked down. I asked him what he was going to do now.

“I don’t know.”

“Where will you go?” I ventured to ask the stranger.

“I don’t know.”

I felt at such a loss as to what I could do or even say that would help.

“I wish there was something I could do to help,” I told him. “But, here, would you like this piece of cake?”

“No,” he simply replied.

“How about a bottle of water?”

“No, thank you.”

I knew he must have been upset to be thrown out of the place he had called, “home.” Plus, he didn’t know us and why should he trust us? Still, I felt the need to stay with him and prayed silently. I wanted to help somehow. I asked him his name and he told us that it was, “Chris.” I eventually ventured to ask him another question.

“Do you ever pray, Chris?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you want to pray now?”

He agreed, and stood up. Facing him, I just naturally placed my hands on his shoulders like a mother would hold her son and I began to pray.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven…”

He prayed along with me and Ella who was standing behind me. My heart was soaring hearing Chris pray the words of the “Our Father.” I moved into the “Hail Mary” next and he quietly prayed that with us as well.

“Amen! Things are going to turn around, Chris. They will. You have to have hope.”

“I hope so,” he told me.

“It will turn around. Keep praying. Things will get better. Ask God to help you–every day–ask God.”

My heart went out to him

I started praying aloud a prayer to God as if I were Chris, asking God to help. I wanted to give Chris an idea of a simple heartfelt prayer–something he can say anytime.

“Please help me, God. Show me the way…help me to get better…”

My heart went out to him and I asked Chris if I could give him a hug. He said I could. I hugged him tight, patting his back and praying for him. I even, afterwards, made a Sign of the Cross with my thumb on his forehead, blessing him.

Chris started eating little bits of the homemade pound cake that I had given to him (that Ella had baked!). It had been resting on a napkin on one of the two big black garbage bags that contained what would be all of his belongings.

Our new friend went back to stuffing a few belongings into one of his bags. But, he struggled. I asked if I could help.

“Do you want me to roll up your sleeping bag, Chris?”

“Okay, thanks.”

Still dressed in my good clothes that I wore for giving the presentation that morning, and my dress coat, I bent down and stretched the worn dirty sleeping bag out on the sidewalk, all the while reassuring him that I had done this countless times before for my 5 kids. Perhaps, I was making light of his terrible situation, but it was meant to be friendly reassuring chatter. After getting Chris’s “bed” into a tight roll I asked if I should put it into the garbage bag. He said I should.

As I stuffed it into the tattered bag, I could then see clearly that Chris was minus all of his fingers on one of his hands–well, except for one! No wonder he was struggling with the bag.

Chris let me roll up the second sleeping bag too. It sure had seen better days. I did the same with that one, placing it into the garbage bag near the other. Right around that time, some boys walked by. There were five of them. Within minutes, they did an “about face” and came straight towards us. Huge smiles seemed plastered across their faces.

Suddenly, I became concerned as they approached that they were coming back to make fun of the unfortunate man.

The Mama Bear in me stepped out a bit in front of Chris who was back kneeling on the ground rummaging around to put his things in the bags, as well as taking little bites of the pound cake.

I became a human shield.

“Hi boys! What’s up?” I asked them.

The Calvary!

“We are Boy Scouts from Troop XX and we want to offer a free meal ticket to our pasta dinner at the church tonight!” One of the boys exclaimed.

Wow! How Beautiful. These boys are great!

“That is so kind of you boys!”

I believe that they thought of this kind work of mercy all on their own. They beamed with pride–a special sort that sprang straight from the boys’ hearts. They chatted a moment with Christ to tell him where the dinner would be held. Chris acknowledged their instructions and thanked them. And off they went! But, before they did, I asked if I could snap a photo of them.

They were on their way again, but before long they were back to give a meal ticket to Chris. Chris held it in his good hand and stared down at it for a few long seconds. We all chatted for a few minutes and I thanked them so much for being kind to Chris. I also asked them if they pray and if they would for Chris to find a place to live. They agreed!

Just then, a slip of paper fell to the ground. I picked it up. It was a hospital bracelet that had fallen out of Chris’s pocket. I asked him if it was his and what had happened. Chris told me that he had gone in to the ER the night before because his legs “weren’t working.” I noticed from the bracelet, (looking at his date of birth) that he was only 39 years old. He was around the same age as one of my own sons. No wonder I felt like a mother to him. I wasn’t sure of his age because he appeared somewhat older, most-likely due to street-living and a rough life. My heart went out to him.

Again, I asked him where he might go. He said for that night he would probably sleep on a park bench. I asked if he had a pillow and enough blankets and he said that he did. I told him that if it was at all possible that if I could, I’d come back to town that night and bring something to him.

That night

It rained that night and unfortunately I was unable to go out. I thought about Chris being out in the cold rain, as well as all unfortunate others. I was up half the night praying–and a lot of it was for him and all those in his situation.

I will go out again soon and look for Chris. I have a coat and an umbrella already in my car ready to give to him. As well, I’ll bring some hot food. I also have a blessed Miraculous Medal and chain that I will give to him.

I pray that a shelter and help can be found for Chris and others like him.

We must pray for and help the unfortunate. God asks us to do so. He gave us very clear instructions, when He said, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me” (Matthew 25: 31-46). As well, Jesus instructed St. Faustina that He demanded deeds of mercy from us. We should not only trust in God’s great Mercy, we need to impart that Mercy to others.