Another family to help

They were living at Nickelsville, mom, dad, and a 20-year-old developmentally disabled son.

Dad got a job offer in Tulsa, and moved in with friends there. Doesn't seem good to anyone to have the mother and the kid alone in Seattle, living in a tent.

Anyone want to chip in toward the $202 bus ticket to get the family reunited? Let me know so this doesn't drag on for a month.

Homeless Bikes in Tennessee

The Chattanooga Community Kitchen and Outdoor Chattanooga have teamed up to provide bicycles for some of the 400 to 500 people who are sleeping on streets or in shelters each night.

See story here.

I wonder how hilly Chattanooga is compared with Seattle. Can't really see homeless people pumping up the hill to Nightwatch from Pioneer Square, but who knows?

When we were located in Belltown a decade ago, we did have a few homeless guys on bicycles. It beats walking everywhere. But doubtful that the shelters have bike racks.

Awful responsibility

Operation Nightwatch got a check with this note: "Rick - no return envelope, so am sending $10 again. Can afford to -- am now getting $16 food stamps. Thanks for your prayers."

Imagine the sense of awful responsibility that is mine, in spending that $10 to take care of homeless people.

What I do for a living. . .

A punkster at a downtown tavern was talking about his new “do” -- shaved his head except for a spiky ridge down the middle, and I asked him how he got his hair to stand up like that and he starts to rubbing it between the palms of his hands, like you might rub a balloon against your chest to get it to stick to the ceiling, and sure enough after enough rubbing his hair was standing about 6 inches straight up in the air.

I said something about getting a haircut or growing a pony tail and he says no, and starts rubbing his hands around and around and around in my hair. Guys at the bar starting to notice me standing there with my hair going wilder and wilder, the bartender stops pouring, starts laughing, and the pool players stop and the guy at the jukebox turns and even some guys on the back wall start chuckling and the punk’s hands are swirling around and around and he stops and I can see myself in the back bar mirror and it's not too bad and I think “I'm never going to buy gel again and to heck with getting a haircut.”

How can I explain what I do for a living?

Medical Crisis?

It was well after midnight in Pioneer Square, downtown Seattle.

I'm walking the Nightwatch beat in my clerical collar. At the corner of First and Yesler, I see a homeless guy on his back, flopping around like a fish in the bottom of a boat.

Now, having worked for a few years in a health care setting, I've seen lots of people having seizures. This guy looked like he was having a tonic-clonic episode.

I lean over him. "Hey, buddy! Buddy! You all right?"

Now, if he WAS having a seizure, he's not going to speak to me, so I'm not sure what I thought. His eyes were closed and by this time he's jerking, jerking, jerking.

He opens one eye and looks at me, hovering over him, worried.

"I'm . . . just. . . working. . . on. . . my. . . abs."

Alrighty then. . . on to the next crisis.

To Turn

I am in marathon training, which means long runs on Saturday. Right now that means 10 – 14 miles.

Saturday I was feeling great, leaving Capitol Hill, through Northlake, into Fremont. I had in mind to run across the Ballard Bridge, to Nickerson, Westlake, Denny Way, and home. Maybe 13-14 miles.

But there was one Little Problem. I hadn’t really finished preparing my sermon for the next day. Acute mental functioning wasn’t going to happen after a 14 mile run. Happily, I recognized the error of my ways, and turned around, headed home.

That turn-around gave me something to think about.

In Hebrew, שוב . Usually translated repent, the word shub literally means to turn around.

It’s easy for me to run the wrong direction, or simply run too far ahead. If I’m paying attention, I stop and turn around. Recognizing the need to change direction, to change focus, can be tricky. Having resolve, we also need strength. It’s there, when we ask for it.

What I'm working on . . .

Friday night, it's about a six minute drive to Operation Nightwatch from one of the most fabulous houses in the region, bar none. Beautiful house, filled with beautiful women, writing checks to support homeless sisters at Operation Nightwatch. They gave $20,000+ in two nights.

Meanwhile outside Nightwatch, it's 9:00 pm and homeless people have lined up to get a decent meal and a place to go for the night. It's an interesting transition.

I'm greeting people and shaking hands and answering questions.

Some young guy says, "If I'm already a believer, what's the next thing I should be working on?"

Learn how to love people. That's what I told him, and he told me he thought that was a good answer.