I've been haunted by the story of the young man living in the tent. I called Tim at work. "What do you think we should do?" I asked. And he decided to head down and meet him as soon as he got off work. I was at work, when Tim came in. Tractor Supply was hopping. I knew that something was up because Tim waited. And waited. Finally, things slowed down. He walked up to the register and said, "The kid doesn't have anywhere to go. I told him to come back at 9, and I'd let him in, so that he has a place to sleep for the night." We both looked at each other. It's getting darned cold at night.
When I got off work, we went down to the apartment. I met him. Seems like a good enough kid. His mother died when he was still a child. He's very quiet. Had nothing. Nothing. We'd already got input from his pastor. His case worker.
Yeah. You pretty much knew how this was going to go down didn't you? Truth be told? So did we. We took a carload of supplies with us when we went down to meet him. We told him, "We're going to do a month to month lease. How long you wind up staying will depend entirely on you, son. We hope it's a long, long time, though." He looked surprised, and said, fervently, "I hope so too." We left the apartment. I looked back. "Welcome home," I said. He came out in the hall, and shook our hands. "I really appreciate this," he said. "Thank you so much."
Leap of faith. Big leap of faith. Did you ever just get a feeling about something?