Veteran PBOH Volunteer

“It's hard to see from across the street or driving in your car. It’s hard to see from inside your warm home. It’s hard to see when you look the other way. But, if you get a little closer, “It” is visible. It’s there when you greet the guests at check-in. It’s there when you hand them a hot cup of coffee or serve the meal that was brought in for the night. It’s there when you drive the van to the showers. It’s there when you take the time to listen and see. You notice it most when someone is no longer there. I process things over time, and this past summer I attended a celebration of life for one of our guests. At the time I had no words. Tonight I woke up flooded with memories and thoughts of Mike. He wasn’t the largest of men, but he put on a tough exterior. Rough around the edges. He would push a cart filled to the brim all over town. He could be rude and crude like the “Saltiest Sailor.” Underneath of his outward appearance I was privileged to see “It”. That spark of light. The grace that shines through. His gratitude for the warm place to go on the coldest of nights. The food that was given when he hadn’t eaten all day. The warm shower, the cigarette, the laugh, the smile, the listening. His appreciation always came through. It wasn’t just in the receiving. He shared what he had. Sometimes his smokes, sometimes his food, sometimes his knowledge from being around, sometimes his love of music. He wasn’t that old, and I will miss him. I’m grateful I got to spend time with him. I know that I’m a better person for having met him. I didn’t see “It” before I stared volunteering. I was across the street, in my car, in my warm home. Get out of your house, get out of your car, cross the street, and meet a Mike.”