Thanksgiving with Al

Today my family celebrated Thanksgiving well in Newberg, Oregon. Newberg is a sleepy little College town about 10 miles outside of the urban area of Portland. It was 12 members of my wife’s family, plus Al.

Al is in his early 50’s and doesn’t have family around, so he hung out with us. Watched some football games. Played with the kids. Listened to some 70’s and 80’s music through itunes on our computer. Feasted with us. He said he was a bit scared to join the family since he didn’t know us all well, but as he left he said he was really glad he came.

And as he was saying goodbye, my son Caleb gave him a hug and said, “I hope you find a home”. You see, Al is homeless. He lives on the streets in Portland. My brother in law got up at 6am to drive out there and pick him up at the shelter he was staying in last night. It’s a long story, but Darrin (my brother in law) had connected with Al over a year ago on the streets of Santa Monica during a Youth Group trip to LA, and ended up helping to get him to Oregon where there were some opportunities that didn’t pan out so well. Long story short—Al is back on the streets.

So Darrin keeps connected with him and invited him to Thanksgiving. When Al walked in he said, “I haven’t smelled that smell in a home for years”. It was a turkey cooking. He let us lift up his very heavy bag—with everything he owns— that he carries around the city all day long. He just hung out. We didn’t ask him a lot of questions. We simply hgh dietary supplements let him be part of the family. Eating, watching football, and chatting. At one point he said (with a tear in his eye) “you have no idea what it’s like to live out there on the streets”, at which I assured him I really did not.

I believe in helping out with the shelters and the soup kitchens; I’ve gone at holiday time before and been a part of a blessing to homeless folks. But as we ate with Al today, through no planning of my own (I didn’t even know he was going to be there) I wondered what it would be like if every Christian family could invite a homeless friend to dinner at Thanksgiving and Christmas. It’s nice, and necessary, to go to where they live to serve them, but it’s a task which still allows me to hide behind a food line; it was authentic to open our home and our lives to Al and be a friend.

We weren’t able to solve any of his problems, and he had to leave to get back to the shelter to make sure he could get a highly sought-after bed on a cold, damp night. But for a few moments, Al had a normal day. It was good for him; it was better for us. We got to be reminded that we are thankful for family we have all the time, not to mention a roof over our head, a stocked refrigerator, cable tv and internet. And I think that when we stop to give a McDonalds gift certificate or an encouraging word to the homeless lady on the side of the freeway onramp where we live, my kids (and me) will see things a little differently.