Baltimore: The Heart of the Homeless

Yesterday is one of the first cold days at church in the park in Baltimore City.  It’s both chilly and damp, a taste of what is to come in the next several months.  I grab a blanket from my trunk and wrap it around my shoulders.  Hannah is wearing a Patagonia jacket, vans or Chuck Taylors, short socks and bare ankles.  She looks colder than I am, but says she is fine.  After t an hour and a half, Hannah and I are talking with a few friends from the other side of town. One of the men comments how cold Hannah looks and offers to get her a coat from his trunk.Joe, a friend and one of the park residents, living in a tent next to I-83, is bundled in a jacket he just received, removing the tags just a few minutes before.  He smiles when we comment how nicely it matches his sweater.  Joe is telling us about a potentially dangerous encounter he had over the weekend with an acquaintances living in a nearby tent.This was followed by a premonition about being beaten and ending up in the hospital.   He said he resigned himself to praying for strength to get through it, knowing it was out of his control.  With Joe refusing to engage, the situation abated.  I ask where the man is now and Joe said he warned him of someone looking to hurt him so he left the area. Finally deciding it’s time to go home, Joe walks us to my car.  I have a size XXXL sweatshirt from Wofford College that someone gave me in the bookstore.   I gave it to Joe who had a friend who had difficulty finding clothing in his size.  Giving Joe a hug and unlocking the car, Hannah slips off the jacket she was wearing and hands it to Joe.  I had assumed another friend had an extra and left it to Hannah.   Joe had taken off his jacket to put over Hannah's shoulders.  I looked at him surprised, not recognizing the jacket as his.“That’s what my parents raised me to do,” he says as he puts in back on and with a wave, strolls back into the park.