Dress for the Day

• Dress for the Day

The creek had low water levels, with a slow trickle in the stream. As I pulled to the side of the road, the steps of two homeless people who stood by the creek caught my attention.

The man and woman moved along the trail, each carrying a tote that seemed to hold their entire life inside, and their steps seemed heavy with the weight of their circumstances.

I couldn’t help but wonder about the choices that led them to the path, to a place where they had no shelter, no escape from the heat, and no certainty about the future.

Thus, I felt compelled to visit with them, jumping from my car. “Hello, are you thirsty? I have Gatorade.”

They kept going, and it’s as if every bird in the country chirped when I spoke, and as if every tired roared on the asphalt on the bridge overhead. They couldn’t hear me calling and didn’t respond even when I pushed the car’s horn.

I raced towards them, yelling until my voice reached their ears, and the man asked, “What did you say?”

“I have hygiene bags and plenty of Gatorade. Are you thirsty?”

“Yes, we sure are,” the man said as he marched my way. Now, this placed him off to one side of the trail, and his friend, well, she joined him, traipsing behind, wearing only a tiny bikini. She said, “I can’t drink the yellow. It gives me heartburn.”

Back at the car, I popped open the trunk and handed her a blue Gatorade and the man a yellow one.

“Thank you. Blue is my favorite,” the woman said, while the man said, “I like any flavor.”

As I chatted with Linda (not her real name), she wept almost immediately, recounting her trip from Michigan, the months of turmoil, her recent encounter with an angry person, and her sadness at life.

So I asked, “Can I pray with you? Would you mind?”

“I would love that.” I called to Jerry (not his real name), “I’m praying for Linda; come over and join us.”

“All right,” he said, slipping off his cap and standing beside us. I prayed for Linda and Jerry. Suddenly, she grabbed her bag and opened the zipper. “I should get dressed. You caught me so off guard, and I’d just bathed in the creek. And now, I’m standing here in my ...”

I ran my hand through my hair. “It’s okay. I thought you had a bathing suit on.”

Linda quickly pulled a T-shirt over her head and slipped on a pair of jeans. “I bet this is better,” she said, straightening the wrinkled shirt.

I smiled, trying to act as if we’d just had a typical encounter, like friends meeting on a trail. “You look much better now.” “I don’t know what I was thinking. I was just so thirsty. And then you talked to me and listened to me.”

“I knew today was hot, but life can be so hard, too. I thought a cool drink might help.”

She wiped tears from her face. “I believe God brought you to the creek for a reason, to remind me not to give up.”

“Sometimes, I need that reminder myself.” “God wouldn’t send someone with my favorite blue Gatorade if He didn’t want me to live. Just cause, I’m out here. It’s not the end.”

“I’m so glad I came down your trail. I sure needed your friendship today,” I said, wiping sweat from my forehead.

And that’s when Jerry, who had talked little, said, “Would you like a Gatorade? I know where we can get one,” he pointed to my car on the road.

I grinned. “Yes, get me a blue one. I think it’s my new favorite.”

Jerry handed me a drink a few minutes later and said, “You have an ulterior motive for coming here, don’t you?”

“You think so?”

“Yes. You’re not just pushing stuff. You’re pushing Jesus.”

“Well, that’s one way to say. If I can point you toward the Savior who forgives and saves, my work is done.”

Linda piped in, “Do you come out here often?” “I come when I can.” If you see me, will you please stop again?” “I promise. After all, we’re friends now.” Linda smiled. “And I’ll make sure I’m dressed next time.”

I laughed. “That sounds like a great idea.”