“Kindness is a language that the deaf can hear and the blind can see.” – Mark Twain

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I put my purple vest on, embroidered with “Jesus is Lord” and stepped onto the street to minister to the homeless. The unclean smells and dirty concrete was all I saw, at first. Rubbish crowded the sidewalk and smoke crowded the air. It was a place of desperation, reeking of hopelessness, and stale ambition. Then, in between the withering trees, I saw people. Men and women carrying sacks, their entire belongings. Their faces were enough – death had robbed them of life and purpose and promise, and the only thing dragging them forward was a drug. What a terrible place to be, so eager for rescue but so unknowing of their escape, their salvation. Homeless and hopeless – these were the sorrowful words tattooed on that part of town