Everything he owned stuffed into the 40 gallon, black plastic garbage bag dragging on the ground- he stopped and smiled when his place in line finally caught up to me. He reeked with the scent of unshowered humanity. Small in stature, face covered with large scars; looking tentatively into my face- recognition struck him and a smile softened his features. He spoke quietly- as if he was certain no one had heard a word he'd said in years. Reaching out his hand, he asked: "Eric, how's your shoulder? Did the surgery go well? Is it working for you?" I didn't know him from Adam. He could see that in my eyes and quickly filled me in: "I use to stand in your line at the old place almost every week... but it's been awhile and I've wondered how your shoulder was." I've broken both my shoulders. But had surgery to put just one of them back together, over 3 years ago. He remembered my pain and standing there before me with little more than a garbage bag to hold all he owned- he inquired about my well being. Telling him I felt 100%, rotating my arm for him as if I were in physical therapy, his smile shattered the darkness and he told me how glad he was that I was doing so much better. I couldn't help but remember how much it hurt to sleep on for months... how when I get in, cold from the streets, how it hurts even still when I roll over onto it without thinking... I tried to imagine all the places this brother must have slept in the last few years. How his joints must ache after walking, sunup to sundown, to collect cans, bottles and trash to recycle before finding a "safe" spot on a sidewalk, in an alley, under an overpass, deep in freeway landscaping. Wondered how much he hurt when he rolled over at night on his "mattress" of asphalt or concrete? Through it all, he remembered me. God is too good. The guy in the little photo was standing just behind him in line- he heard much of the story... then walking up we began to talk... we've just known him for a few months- couldn't help but wonder when he might stop showing up in line? Would we miss him? Where would he go? What would he remember about us? Can't tell you how thankful I am that my shoulder's healed. Last night it almost seemed worth it all just to think that someone with the weight of survival weighing heavy on his every footfall had remembered me. Pretty cool.

More than a fancy shopping cart. That's one of the newest "mobile homes" to meet the needs of the tens of thousands of homeless in LA. You can check them out at www.edar.org. E.D.A.R. - Everyone Deserves A Roof -more than just a clever idea. I'd been reading about them but this is the first one we've spotted on the streets. They're trying to use them in shelters- in many shelters the majority of people can spend the night sitting in a chair -now they'll sleep in the privacy of an E.D.A.R. Some are also making their way onto the streets where people will be able to use them to cart their belongings and then sleep in at night. People who've lived with next to no strings attached- guys who feel like our backpacks take them to the next level of wealth -have complained that the E.D.A.R. is large, bulky and hard to push around. Then there are those who feel they only enable the homeless. In our 20 years on the streets we've discovered that every good idea that comes along- offered with the best intentions -usually meets a need and more importantly begins to build a relationship that can help someone take that first step out of poverty and one step closer to home. I look forward to the day that no one has to sleep in cardboard or abandoned onto asphalt... until then... wouldn't it be great if just a tad of the billions of dollars being spent to bail out bankers was designated to help folks still in their homes- so they never hit the streets? And for those who've already slipped into existence without even a roof over their head- at the very minimum -an E.D.A.R.? I've never met the people from E.D.A.R. but wouldn't it be cool if some Christmas- along with backpacks -we handed out a few hundred E.D.A.R.?

Smiling faces... we get plenty of them every Sunday night. The guy in the big picture at the top of the email is named Otha. He hadn't been through our line in years... never in our "new" location. We're about the same age. Both of us from Southern California, both with family support- somehow Otha fell into the heartbreak of skidrow and for years we made friends hanging out together on Sunday nights - and then he was gone. He showed up again two weeks ago- looking fantastic, feeling great and telling an exciting story about a new apartment in skidrow in a brand new building. His sister came up from South Central LA and paid the move in expense, brought a bed and some dishes and Otha was feeling like a million bucks. He said as soon as he was settled he knew he had to come and thank us. He said that so many Sunday nights all he could think of was Jodi's lasagna. It was good to hang out. In honor of the reunion, Jodi baked lasagna for several hundred Sunday night- Otha was a no show. No clue what might have drawn him away again... it's better when people start a life away from our line... hopefully he's establishing himself in his new home, getting a job and rebuilding broken relationships with the right people. He knows where we're at if he needs us. Sunday night was one of those evenings when a collection of people we hadn't seen in weeks... months and even years... our team wasn't at full force- some are sick, others were finishing up Super Bowl parties... those of us who had the opportunity to go were reminded of just how good God is as we shared the evening, shared a meal, shared God's invitation to serve. The biggest opportunity of Jackets for Jesus is that each of us are invited to share the simple steps of serving in the heart of poverty... a place where people stand in line and wait to share a conversation, have a meal, begin a relationship... take one step closer towards home... and You're Invited. You're Needed. Now, more than ever... we're going this Sunday night.

for changing lives,

Eric M. Denton