The theme for me this past week has been, "Where are these people's parents!?" So many of the homeless people at the shelter are from this area, if not this town. They have family here. So why are they living in a shelter?

We have young men trying to get off drugs, who need relational encouragement and familial support.

We have young women with babies who have no idea how to care for their child and need the help and guidance of an experienced mother.

We have young couples who have children and court dates in Denver but travel for a week in the elements to come stay here just because it's a safe place.

I am currently living with my parents, and appreciate the love, support, encouragement, and food they give me. And I keep asking everyone I work with, "Where are these people's parents!?"

And then I find out.

Their mother's house is a crack house, and probably the reason they got addicted in the first place.

Their mother complains that the child she raised is too lazy and does nothing to help around the house.

Their father takes a shovel to their heads just to get them out of the house.

Their parents call secretly and tell their daughters to leave their husbands and hop the first bus "home."

This is where their parents are.

And then the children come here.

For my Board and I to parent.

The problem is

We have 22 children.

And only 2 or 3 of us are here consistently.

And these children are thirty years old

And have never learned to live successfully on their own -

These children are 19,

And have never yet needed to learn.

And I am stuck in the middle.

Wanting to help these people -

But knowing there's not much I can do.

Now,

Physically grown up,

Emotionally stunted,

Hardened by hatred and hard times,

These people must help themselves.

...

And some do.

All by the grace of God.

...

Here, in this job -

In this ministry

I have for the second and most poignant time in my life

Realized the merit and desperate need of prayer.

It always sounds trite -

"Well, I suppose, if you can't give us money, you can pray..."

But then you meet prayer warriors

Like Dr. Andrew Nachtigall,

Who disregarded his age to physically helped build this place,

And now that he can hardly walk

Helps hold up the walls

And the lives

That live inside them

By praying.

Oh, that I could leave such a legacy,

That others would say

"I remember Bethany, she prayed."

Or even better,

If no one came to my funeral

And I was forgotten.

And the lives I touched

Went on

And were remembered

Because I prayed.

...

I did not write this to make you feel sad

or guilty

or bad.

I wrote this because I feel sad.

And it turned into a poem.

'Cause that's what poetry is -

The expression of emotion.

And a glimpse

Into the life

Of someone else.