True story..my estranged Uncle Pete died homeless in a gutter in downtown St Louis., Missouri. Uncle Pete once had a beautiful family, Aunt Inez and a beauty of a little girl who was his spittin image... all lost to the streets..
The streets swallowed him up as alcohol deadened Uncle Pete's ability to feel the coldness of the climate and of his soul. Death offered him, instead, a place where the fire burns eternally. My hope is he whispered the prayer that many do at the time of reckoning. Like the thief on the cross "Jesus, remember me in Your kingdom".
Heavenly Father, You see the need. We ask for places of refuge for the street children and adults, hot meals and a warm bed. Bring them out of the cold in every way.... Show each of us how to reach those suffering around us...
Tonight, bring the warmth of Your Spirit to all without refuge!
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