A letter to my dad before we go to Africa

Dear Dad,

In two days we will embark on our greatest adventure yet- traveling overseas to Uganda, where I spent a year of my life just five years ago. I know my passion for Africa has somewhat perplexed you over the years, but it has never stopped you from supporting me. That means the world to me.

IMG-9963 (1)I wonder if you remember that we took our very first mission trip together. You, mom, and I went with our church to Gamerco, New Mexico for a week the summer before my 8th grade year. We did Vacation Bible School for the many beautiful children at the Gamerco Church of God. As you know, that trip impacted me so much so that later in life I went on mission trips to Niger, Nicaragua, Zambia, Thailand, and of course, the year I spent in Uganda.

You have traveled many places: a trip to Alaska, and all around Europe and the Caribbean multiple times. But this trip is very different. It will be unlike anything you have ever experienced.

I know you’ve seen some beautiful things around the world. This will be quite a different beauty. There’s a reason they call Uganda the “Pearl of Africa.” Yes, we’ll arrive in Kampala at night, and you’ll wake up to a bustling city and wonder what I’m talking about. But once we get out of the city, you’ll see what I mean. There is so much natural beauty in Uganda.

When we get to the village where we will be serving, you’re going to want to “fix” things. Remember that you’re in a culture vastly different from your own. Trust the people who serve there every single day. They know best how to serve the people.

fathersday2018Finally, I hope you will be open-minded. The fact that you’re even going on this trip shows your willingness to experience another culture. You know that the world is so much bigger than just Fort Wayne, Indiana, and even the United States.

Thank you for doing this, Dad. God continues to bless our family in wonderful ways. It is so exciting to share His love in Uganda, and you won’t ever forget this adventure. I love you, Dad!

Your daughter,
Natalie

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Sometimes, God sends you away from Africa

IMG_4864As I sit here in Indiana looking at photos on Instagram of the smiling children and missionaries who live in the village I’ll visit in Uganda in just a week, my heart hurts.

My heart hurts because I thought that would be me.

When I moved to Uganda in 2013, that was supposed to be it- be my calling. God was calling me to Uganda to be a missionary! I would teach at Heritage International School for a few years, and then God would move me to a village where I’d be a full-time missionary. The issue was, He didn’t.

Some people fear God will send them to Africa. (There’s even a book about it.) But for me, my fear was that He’d send me back home to the United States. And He did.

I don’t regret leaving after only one year. I know, for various reasons, that I couldn’t return for the second year I committed to. Still, I see other women my age serving the Lord in Uganda and other places in Africa and I wonder, “Why couldn’t that have been me?”

Even more so, I see these women living the best life ever (or so it appears) in Uganda, and I wonder why my experience wasn’t the same. Why, for me, wasn’t Uganda some ultra spiritual journey of helping others and following God? Why was my year in Uganda plagued with depression, anxiety, self-doubt, and lots and lots of tears?

1482753_10151871483561573_2088816754_nI look back at my photos from that year in Uganda. You’d never know I was in so much pain. You’d never know the battles I was fighting, both internally and externally. You’d never know that at one point I felt so worthless that I didn’t see a reason to live any longer.

Oddly enough, as much as I don’t regret coming back to the US after one year, I also don’t regret going over in the first place. And this journey I’m about to make back over, I am praying hard that it gives me some closure to the emotional and gripping time I spent there.

I’ve been uneasy for about a month now. My stomach is in knots. My heart is heavy. What if I go there and once again want to live there? What if I realize that I screwed up, and I should have stayed? My anxiety is through the roof.

“I needed to do this to see that it’s NOT what I’m meant to do for a lifetime. Had I not come to Uganda, I’d always wonder, “What if?””

 

I’ve been going back through Facebook private messages from when I was living in Uganda, as I work on my memoir. The statement above is what I must rely on as I make my trip back. “…it’s NOT what I’m meant to do for a lifetime.”

10334337_10202468687703087_3077441966965500961_nSometimes, God sends you to Africa. And sometimes, He sends you away from Africa.

He sent me away.

I trust His plan is what’s best. So as I return to the Pearl of Africa for two weeks, I will embrace everything I love about it- the welcoming people, the beautiful hills and trees, the melodious sounds of the many birds, the incredible food, and even that scorching equator sun.

I am thankful that God sent me to Uganda. I’m also grateful He sent me back home. But a part of my heart will always be in Africa, and I can’t wait to see what’s in store in the coming weeks.

When God said, “Go to Uganda…”

Note: I am very slowly writing a memoir about the year of my life that I spent in Uganda. I decided to share the first chapter to see what people think, especially since today marks the three-year anniversary of when I left for Uganda. I don’t know if the flashbacks are confusing or not, so I’d love any input you have on the first chapter of my memoir. Please be honest! Any and all feedback is welcome, but also keep in mind that this is a very, very rough draft. Thank you!

Chapter 1

Just me and God now. No parents, no siblings, no friends, no mentors. Just me and God and 18 hours on a plane.

“Headset?” the flight attendant asked me as she passed by my seat.

“No thank you, I have my own,” I replied.

I was in comfortable clothes- sweatpants, a blue t-shirt, and a hoodie. I wore no makeup. Would have been pointless to wear makeup considering all the tears I’d shed saying goodbye to mom and dad at the airport. I wouldn’t be seeing them for almost a year. I was moving to Uganda.

1098384_10151513703446573_1845504420_nWould I have Instagram in Uganda? I wasn’t sure. So I figured I’d take one final selfie before flying over the Atlantic. I held out my phone and snapped the picture. I had no makeup on, but there was definitely a glow to my smile. My blue eyes looked bright and my hair, recently colored “blah-brown,” hung in straight strands down to the tops of my shoulders. My face was rounder than I wanted. In the weeks leading up to my move, everyone I knew took me out to eat. I had probably gained a good 10 pounds before I left the US. I figured it didn’t matter. After all, I was going to Africa. What’s there to eat in Africa?

Before I knew it we were high in the sky and my home country disappeared beneath the clouds. I tried to watch a movie but drifted off to sleep just a few minutes in.

I woke up expecting to have only slept for an hour or so, but discovered we were nearly in Europe. I was getting closer and closer to Africa- closer and closer to living the life God had prepared for me.

————————————–

March 2013

I started bawling. Sobbing. Crying my eyes out. Two different, totally unrelated people from different states had sent me emails with the same basic message – “God wants you to serve overseas.” I had known this for years, but never had it in me to leave friends and family and completely follow God. But God was making it crystal clear in every way possible. He didn’t want me to take a two-week long mission trip to Niger. Already did that. He didn’t want me to go to Nicaragua with my church for a week. Already did that. He didn’t even just want me to go to Zambia for 10 days that coming June, which I ended up doing. He wanted more of me.

My office door was open, so I closed it and then had a conversation with my maker.

Dear God, I get it now. I get what you want me to do, but I don’t know where to start. I don’t know how to begin this journey. Who do I contact? Will they accept me? I have credit card debt, student loans to pay off, and a fulltime job! Can I even afford to do this? What is going on God? I may not understand it all, but I will say this- I will go. I’m ready, God. Wherever you want me to go, whatever you want me to do, I’ll go and I’ll do it. Just show me how to get started…

The next day one of my Christian mentors told me about a website that might help point me in the right direction. I decided to check it out.

“Secondary English Teacher – Uganda.”

I read it a second time.

“Secondary English Teacher – Uganda.”

I have a Master’s degree in Education. Five and a half years’ experience teaching high school English. And my heart is in Africa. But there was no way it would be that easy. Would it?

————————————–

After a few episodes of television shows I didn’t care for, some journaling and then a few movies, our plane finally arrived in Amsterdam where I had a one-hour layover. No time for shopping or even a Starbucks, I went from one plane to another and before I knew it we were on our way to Kigali, Rwanda, our final stop before Uganda.

I was already tired and figuring out the time difference. Should I be awake right now? Should I sleep for a few hours? Maybe I should stay up so I’ll sleep well when I get to Uganda. But what time will it be then? I didn’t have much time to think. All of a sudden I was in another deep sleep.

————————————–

April 2013

I woke up at 4:30 a.m. with a jolt and saw the flashing purple light on my phone. It could have been SPAM, could have been a new credit card bill arriving in my email inbox, but something told me it was something else, something important.

It was an email from the principal at Heritage International School in Kampala, Uganda. I had interviewed with them a few weeks before.

“Hello Natalie! We would like to offer you the position of high school English teacher at Heritage. It is a two-year commitment and you would be able to return to the US in the summer between school years. We look forward to hearing from you and you becoming a part of our Heritage team!”

I was dumbfounded. It had been less than a month since I saw the listing online and applied. All of a sudden, I was offered a job. I got the job. I was moving to Uganda for at least two years, maybe longer.

I couldn’t breathe. I began to hyperventilate and tears streamed down my face. My family. My friends. My precious nieces who hold the key to my heart. Two Christmases without them. Two birthdays away from home. Two years of life away from the people I love most…

Two years living abroad. Two years of the gorgeous African scenery that had won my heart over the first time I saw it in 2009. Two years of serving God. Two years of making a difference. Two years of being exactly where God wanted me to be.

It was a no-brainer. I would go. I would move to Uganda and teach high school English. It would be my “in” to the mission field. After two years teaching, I would probably become a full-time missionary somewhere else.  God was working everything out in ways only He could.

I was happy to serve. I was excited to serve. I thought I knew exactly what God was about to do in my life.

————————————–

“Ladies and gentlemen, those exiting the plane are asked to throw any plastic bags in the trash before entering Rwanda as they are not allowed in the country,” I heard over the loudspeaker in the plane.

We had arrived in Rwanda, which meant only another hour or so flight to Entebbe Airport in Uganda. There was no way I’d be sleeping anymore on the plane. I was too excited and too nervous to even consider sleeping any longer.

20200_10151521453276573_870209925_nThe plane landed and my stomach did a flip-flop. We had arrived. I was in Uganda, my home for the next two years, at least. While I was ready to see the country and explore its beauty, it was almost 10 p.m. and not even anyone from school would be there to welcome me, just a driver. His name was David, and he wasn’t too pleased that my luggage had been lost and it took a couple of hours to locate it. It was after midnight when I finally made my way out of the airport and saw him standing there with a sign that read, “Heritage International School.”

“I am so sorry,” I said. “They lost one of my bags, and I didn’t have a way to get ahold of you to let you know I would be late coming out!”

“Es no problem,” David told me with his thick Ugandan accent as he loaded up my luggage onto a cart with wheels. “Es late, but we will be fine.”

I followed him into the parking lot where a school van was parked. We loaded up my luggage, and then I went to get in the front seat.

“Wrong side, madam!” David told me, and I realized I was getting in the driver’s seat.

“Oh that’s right!” I said, feeling embarrassed. It would be one of many cultural differences I would have to get used to- not only driving on the other side of the road, but driving on the other side of the car.

Uganda at night looked like everywhere else I had been in Africa. Our one-hour drive from Entebbe to Kampala was just like all the other late-night rides I’d had in Zambia and Niger. The difference this time was that I was there for good, not just a week or so.

David drove fast on the open road, but I could tell he was in control. My main prayer was that he stayed awake, but all of a sudden we were passing a giant sign that read, “Heritage International School” in blue letters with a drawing of a lion, the school mascot. About a mile away we turned off the paved road and onto a bumpy dirt road. We were getting close, and I could hardly stand the excitement of seeing what would be my home for at least the next few years.

We pulled up to a big gate and David honked. Over the top of the gate I could see a beautiful house peeking through some palm trees. As the guard opened the gate to let us in, it revealed a gorgeous two-story home, MY home.

“Hello!” I heard someone say as she came out the front door. It was after 1 a.m. but my two new housemates were waiting for my arrival and to greet me with hugs.

“I’m Debby,” one of them said with a strong accent, although I couldn’t place where it was from. Debby was tall and skinny with medium-length light brown hair, and the girl next to her had longer, redish-blonde hair and pale, white skin.IMG_20130801_093930

“Elize,” the other girl said. “Welcome to Uganda, Natalie!”

“Thank you!” I said as we lifted my bags out of the van.

The girls helped me move my bags into my bedroom and gave me a quick tour of the house. There was a huge open staircase that went up to Debby and Elize’s separate suites. They showed me to my room after we looked at the giant living room, dining room, and massive kitchen.

“We’re very tired,” Debby said. “Do you mind if we all go to bed and talk in the morning?”

“Of course not!” I said. “Thank you for welcoming me. Goodnight!”

IMG_3721Once the girls left my suite, complete with closets and a bathroom of my own, I sat on my bed and smiled. I couldn’t believe that this was where I was going to live. I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping in a hut, but I never in a million years imagined that I would be in a big, beautiful house with a bedroom and bathroom to myself.

I was so tired that I didn’t unpack a thing. I was told ahead of time that linens would be there waiting for me, but they were not. So I grabbed my hoodie to use as a pillow, pulled down my mosquito net, curled up on my bed and drifted off to sleep.

————————————–

October 2012

One month. That was all I had left on my lease at Arbor Lakes, and it was time to decide if I would stay or if I would go. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to stay in Fort Wayne, Indiana, so the thought of signing another year-long lease horrified me.

“We leave in a month, you know,” my mom said one evening over dinner. “Stay in the house until you decide what you want to do. We’ll be in Florida, and you’ll have the house to yourself. Pay the utilities and that’s all you have to worry about.”

It was definitely tempting, and after a lot of prayer and talking with friends, I decided it was the best plan for me. Living rent-free would definitely help me pay off credit card bills and save money for a new place.

As everything fell into place and I began to move my furniture into storage, something strange began to stir in my soul.

“There’s a reason for this,” I told my mom the day they left for Florida for the winter. “There’s a reason I’m moving into your house and that I won’t be tied down to a lease.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I don’t even know,” I said. “I just know that God has something planned. God did this.”

It wasn’t until five months later that it all made sense.

The post I’ll always make on June 3rd

IMG_4864Every June 3 I will make this blog post:

“XX years since I returned from living in Uganda.”

It’s impossible NOT to write about the year of my life that has had such an impact on who I am today.

This post today is 2 years since I got back from Uganda. The excitement has faded some, but is still there. The pain has faded some, but is still there. The scars are still pretty fresh, but I also know why I have them. God doesn’t want me to forget.

Only 1/35 of my life was spent in Uganda, yet I think about it every single day.

Seriously. Every. Single. Day.

How could I forget? It was best AND worst year of my life thus far.

So many of the memories were experiences that blew my mind. Washing feet at the jigger clinic. Visiting the babies at the baby home. The amazing chocolate cake at Cafe Javas. Stoney! Trips to Kenya. Late nights with my roommates dancing in our living room. Getting to teach the greatest teens from around the world. Going on safari. The list goes on an on.

IMG_20140307_172741Somehow, depression made its way in. Doubt made its way in. Insecurity took over my life, and I felt like I had no one, not even God, to save me. Few people know this about my time in Uganda, but it was the first time I ever seriously considered ending my own life, and that’s mainly because I truly believed that no one cared about me. I look back now and see how untrue that was, but you couldn’t have told me that at the time.

Needless to say, “it was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” What ended up helping towards the end of my stay was learning that I wasn’t alone. Others were hurt. Others were struggling. But our school was less than supportive when we needed it most.

I’m working on having grace for the people who hurt me and others. It’s not easy, but who am I to judge them for not having grace on those of us who struggled? I should model what I preach. I need to forgive. Easier said than done.

Wow. Two years later and I’m still processing. Two years later and it still hurts. Two years later and I still miss Uganda every single day.

I wish had something more profound to say. Maybe it’s this: I wouldn’t change a thing.

Two years ago I stepped foot on American soil after a year in Uganda, and I was a totally different person. And I continue to change. God isn’t going to let my suffering be in vain.

10334337_10202468687703087_3077441966965500961_nMy prayer is that when I post my “3 years since I returned from living in Uganda,” I’ll have found the grace to forgive, not only those who hurt me, but also forgive myself for mistakes I made while I was there. I hope to have processed more, grown more, and accepted the fact that if I’m going to want people to show me grace, I’m going to have to show it to others as well.

I am a work in progress. I should probably walk around with an “Under Construction” sign around my neck. It’s a sign I would have to wear the rest of my life because I am so, so far from perfection or anything near it.

Most milestones in my life are now built around my year in Uganda because that’s when everything changed for me. And like I said, I wouldn’t change a thing.

Follow your map and no one else’s

1534289_10151799014316573_1371136033_nWe grow up believing that we’re each given the same map. It tells us where to go and when, and we believe that if we don’t follow the map, all hope is lost and our lives aren’t “right.”

The basics of the map are this: birth, happy childhood, elementary school, high school, college, marriage, babies, retirement.

But the truth is, our maps aren’t all the same. For someone like me, who assumed my map of life was the “normal” one, it took me years to learn and accept the fact that we’re all given different maps.

I haven’t always been pleased with my life map. There were times I begged God to give me a different one. For more than two years I begged Him for the heart of a man who I eventually found out was full of false promises and other lies. I begged God to move me to Indianapolis. I begged God to send me a man to marry.

And it was just a few years ago that I not only accepted the map God gave me, but I embraced it. These days I’m thanking God every single day for my life map. Why? Because it’s MY map. MY life. MY experiences. My map of life was tailored just for me by the one who loves me most.

It still baffles me that if I haven’t seen someone in years, and the first questions they will ask are, “Are you married? Do you have any children?” Then I sound like some sort of failure because all I can respond with is, “No. I just travel the world going on mission trips, lived in Uganda for a year, volunteer at a homeless shelter twice a week and have a job that I love at a nonprofit. But sorry, no husband or babies.”

I remember having a conversation with a few of my female students in Uganda. One of them was already fearing she wouldn’t get married. It sounded like a matter of life and death to her, although she was only a teenager. It killed me that she, like I had, felt that we all had the same map, and if you don’t find someone to marry by the time you finish college, all hope is lost.

All hope is lost? Although I went through years of feeling inadequate because I wasn’t married, I wouldn’t trade my life for anything. Now that I’ve fully embraced the life map that God gave me, everything has changed. Hope hasn’t been lost, it’s been restored!

Maybe you’re in the opposite position that I’m in. Maybe you did get married and start a family, and you haven’t done all the other things you wanted to do in life. I encourage you to embrace what God has given you, and pray that He will provide you with the opportunities you desire. He can make a way! Or, He will put your heart and soul at peace with not attaining the things you desire.

If you were going on vacation and driving to Texas, would you go to Google Maps and punch in Florida as your destination? Of course not. That map isn’t for you. That map won’t lead you to the happiness that awaits you in Texas. Stop trying to get somewhere that God doesn’t have as your current destination.

We’re all given different maps. Follow your map and no one else’s. We only find happiness when we follow it how God wants us to. Trust the map He’s given you.

“I will instruct you and teach you
in the way you should go;

I will counsel you
with my loving eye on you.”

Psalm 32:8

A year in Uganda + a year in America = a whole new Natalie

10334337_10202468687703087_3077441966965500961_nI wanted to come home. I wanted to be with my family. I wanted Starbucks. I wanted to experience my favorite season, fall. I wanted to hang out with my friends. I wanted the luxuries that come with living in a first-world country.

I also wanted to stay. I wanted to teach at Heritage. I wanted to go to the jigger clinic and the baby home. I wanted to return to Mombasa, Kenya and take in all its beauty again. I wanted to drink Stoney for another year. I wanted to be with my students for another year. I wanted to hug Florence and Gideon again.

But my health got in the way. And then God did. And despite the things I wanted in Uganda, I knew it was time to come home.

The goodbyes were heartbreaking. I don’t think I’ve ever cried so much as I did on the ride from Kampala to the Entebbe airport. My heart was broken. I wasn’t even gone yet, and my soul ached for the people who had become my world.

It’s nearly impossible to spend time abroad for a year, return, and then not reflect on what you’ve done since you returned. Today marks one year since I returned to the US, and I find myself reflecting on everything that’s happened- the good, the bad, and the ugly.

10614337_10152228624626573_5915920655416583542_nI promised myself a year ago that my life would be different than it was before I left for Africa. I certainly kept that promise to myself, and I changed in ways I never imagined I could. Many times I’ve told people that God tore me apart in Uganda because He needed to put me back together, to fix me. Much of the “fixing” part has taken place since my return home, and I’m still a work in progress.

Not a day goes by that I don’t think about Uganda. Not one day. Whether it’s the country itself, my friends there, my students, or Florence and Gideon, something always crosses my mind about my time in Kampala. I couldn’t forget if I tried. Because of this, it’s difficult not to wonder, “What if…” What if I had stayed? What if I want to go back? What if I never get to return to Uganda even for a visit?

But the “What if’s” have to be suppressed. I don’t know what would have happened if I stayed. Maybe I’d still be spitting up blood and eventually end up really sick. I don’t know what would happen if I went back. It wouldn’t be the same, but at least it would fix the hunger in my heart for Africa. I don’t know what would happen if I never get to go back and at least visit. The thought makes me sick to my stomach.

11401077_10152812057366573_1683850763778689837_nOverall, when I returned from Uganda, I wanted my life to be one with value. I wanted to do things that matter, I wanted to grow closer to the Lord, and I wanted to find a career that made me happy. Done. Done. And done.

Although I miss Uganda like crazy, I can’t help but look back on the past 365 days of my life and smile. In one year I’ve made all sorts of amazing memories with friends and family. I’m nowhere near perfect, but I feel as close to the Lord as I ever have been. Within the last month I started a job that is absolutely perfect for me, and I wouldn’t want to leave it for anything.

God is good, whether I’m living in Uganda or Indiana. And God has always been good. I might be a whole new Natalie, but God has always been the same.

The homeless in our hearts

Sometimes I feel “homeless.”

Especially going into the holidays, I hear a lot of people talk about going “home.” They’ll visit their parents in a familiar house with familiar sights and smells, and it will offer a sense of comfort throughout the holiday season.

I have no home. Before the age of 18, we had lived in six houses and four different cities. Dad’s jobs moved us around a lot, and I didn’t really know any differently. Since then, I have changed my address 13 times, including two countries, three states, two dorms, and eight apartments. I am 34 and I’ve lived in 19 different homes. For me, home HAS to be “where the heart is,” since I technically have no physical childhood home to return to.

Although I sometimes feel “homeless,” I really have no idea what it’s like to not have a place to call home each night.

This week is Hunger and Homelessness Awareness Week. Never before has this week been so important to me as it is this year. Twice a week I stare into the faces of the homeless around Fort Wayne. I know them. I talk with them. I laugh with them. They are real people. My heart has never hurt more for American homeless people.

Screenshot_2014-11-18-11-16-06-1
Breakfast is ready to be served at the Rescue Mission!

I’ll be honest. Some days when my alarm goes off at 5 a.m. and I have to head into the Fort Wayne Rescue Mission to serve breakfast, it’s the last thing I want to do. But I never, ever regret going. The people are so thankful for a hot meal, and I know that a lot of them are counting on me to be there. There’s one particular man who always spots me from down the hall, smiles, and yells, “Natalie’s here!”

But sometimes, when my bed is warm, and I know I could actually sleep in another few hours… it’s tough to get up.

Why do I still go? It’s simple. Obedience.

I remember being on a boat in Lake Victoria with some friends last year, heading out to the monthly jigger clinic we helped run in a village. The first few times we went, we took lots of pictures on our long journey to the village. But by this time, probably our 7th time going, we were less than enthusiastic.

“It’s all about obedience now,” my friend said to me. “It’s not exciting anymore. We do it because it’s what God wants us to do. It’s the right thing to do.”

She was so right. It IS the right thing to do, whether it’s exciting or not.

“If among you, one of your brothers should become poor, in any of your towns within your land that the Lord your God is giving you, you shall not harden your heart or shut your hand against your poor brother, but you shall open your hand to him and lend him sufficient for his need, whatever it may be. Take care lest there be an unworthy thought in your heart and you say, ‘The seventh year, the year of release is near,’ and your eye look grudgingly on your poor brother, and you give him nothing, and he cry to the Lord against you, and you be guilty of sin. You shall give to him freely, and your heart shall not be grudging when you give to him, because for this the Lord your God will bless you in all your work and in all that you undertake. For there will never cease to be poor in the land. Therefore I command you, ‘You shall open wide your hand to your brother, to the needy and to the poor, in your land.’” Deuteronomy 15:7-11

Some homeless people are drunks and drug addicts. Many of them are sober. Most of them are super friendly and incredibly thankful for a hot meal. Their stories are incredible. Some have always lived a life on the streets. Some had it all- a house, cars, jewelry, swimming pool- and then lost it. But God doesn’t tell us what type of poor people to help, He simply says to help.

We need to help these people, not because they’re cluttering our streets and sleeping under bridges, but because God commands us to. So what can you do to help? There are three main ways:

Volunteer your time
Regularly. Not once a year. Not just on Thanksgiving and Christmas, but regularly. Most shelters literally have to turn volunteers away on holidays. That’s not when they need your help. If all you can do is once a month, then at least that’s a start. Sign up with your local shelter to serve a meal with your family or church group. Or do what I do, if you have to, and just go by yourself. Like anyone would, the people love seeing a familiar face, instead of random volunteers. By volunteering regularly, that is how you form relationships. That is how you make a difference.

Financial Support and Donations
I don’t want to bash national homeless organizations, but I highly suggest you invest your money in local efforts to help the homeless. Call your local shelters and rescue missions and see what they need. Maybe it’s just money to help pay the bills. I know the Rescue Mission here in town is in need of more cots, as the winter season approaches. Each cot is $65, and they need 46 more. Find out what the needs are, and contribute what you can.

Pray for the homeless
Their lives are a constant struggle. Whether or not it is their fault that they are in that position doesn’t matter. We have to pray for these people, who are loved no less by Jesus than He loves anyone else. Let’s keep the homeless in our prayers and certainly in our hearts.

If you need a little more motivation to help the poor in your community, don’t turn to blogs, Facebook, and motivational books. Turn to THE book and see what God says about it:

“Whoever oppresses a poor man insults his Maker,
be he who is generous to the needy honors Him.”

Proverbs 14:31RealChangeBox

“Whoever gives to the poor will not want,
but he who hides his eyes will get many a curse.”

Proverbs 28:27

“A righteous man knows the rights of the poor;
a wicked man does not understand such knowledge.”

Proverbs 29:7

“Is it not to share your bread with the hungry
and bring the homeless poor into your house;

when you see the naked, to cover him,
and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?”

Isaiah 58:7

“If you pour yourself out for the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted,
then shall your light rise in the darkness and your gloom be as the noonday.”
Isaiah 58:10