It was late into the evening and the great expanse of Nebraska sky shone bright with stars. Our new friends would be sleeping beneath them tonight. The air was cooling down, bringing a chilling breeze through the streets.
We parked the van in front of the mission and prayerfully stepped into the street with our hands full of cookies and hot coffee. The lights of a police car swirled red and blue against the night sky as we sat on the steps with MaryAnne. She sobbed quietly, telling us her story as we poured her a cup. Not surprisingly, we had arrived just in time to minister to someone in need.
MaryAnne was among the 30+ homeless who live on the streets of Whiteclay, Nebraska. Minutes before our van pulled up, a fight had broken out and her friend had been taken away. Fights like this happen often behind the broken down buildings of this town and its drunk and angry men. We had come night after night to offer our blankets, our coffee, and our ears to hear the stories of these street dwellers we had befriended by day. We prayed with them, spoke truth over them, and were there for them when they needed a sober hand to hold. That night, MaryAnne said we were like angels, come just in time. She was scared, tired, stuck in a cycle of alcohol and abuse. She welcomed our love and prayers with sincere gratitude. We hugged her as we wrapped a blanket around her cold, bare shoulders and sat with her into the late hours of the night. I imagined that this must be what Jesus meant when he said, 'Whatever you have done for the least of these, you have done for me.' (from Matt 25:40)