Sometimes the Mission Finds You

On Saturday, August 8, members of the Hidden Valley Older Gentlemen's Group (HVOG's) gathered at Hidden Valley Elementary School for what we expected to be a routine organizational meeting.

We were meeting in the very neighborhood where many of us were raised. As we always do, we began our meeting with prayer.

On the agenda was the success of our July 25th fundraiser—what we had raised, what came next, and plans for future community efforts, including our Christmas celebration, cancer walks, and other opportunities to give back.

Before we adjourned, however, our Vice President, Reggie Gwynn, brought something to our attention.

Two young women had apparently been sleeping along the nature trail near the elementary school. They were homeless.

At first, the group's instinct was the natural one: What can we give them? Members began talking about taking up a collection. But we quickly realized that before we could decide how to help, we needed to understand what had happened and what they actually needed.

As the only woman at the meeting, I approached them.

There was some reluctance at first, and understandably so. They were in an extremely vulnerable position and had already been approached by a man they didn't know. I assured them that they were safe, explained who we were and why we were there, and told them that we weren't there to judge them. We simply wanted to understand their situation well enough to help.

Then we learned their ages.

They were both just 18 years old.

Practically babies themselves, these two young women had been trying to navigate circumstances that would overwhelm many adults.

They told us they had been forced from their home with only about ten minutes to gather whatever they could carry. Their mother had been gone since April, leaving no food, no forwarding address, and little reliable communication. An older sibling had left approximately two months earlier.

We asked about relatives. Was there anyone we could call? Somewhere they could go? Could we help get them a bus ticket to a family member?

Using our phones, they contacted an aunt in New Orleans. Unfortunately, she was not in a position to provide them with somewhere to stay.

At that point, members of HVOG's began reaching into their pockets.

But giving these young women some money and wishing them well didn't feel like enough.

With the money collected from the members,  Reggie and I began looking for somewhere safe for them to stay through the weekend while we worked on connecting them with additional resources Monday morning.

What followed became a journey of its own.

The first place suggested to us was simply not somewhere we felt comfortable leaving two vulnerable 18-year-old young women. They weren't being ungrateful or choosy—they were uncomfortable there, and after seeing the conditions ourselves, we understood why.

The second location would not accept them because they were under 21.

The third required payment for an entire week, which was beyond the funds we had available.

The fourth was simply outside our budget.

Then came number five.

The fifth was the charm.

We finally found a place where they could safely stay for two nights.

What began as a few minutes of checking on two strangers ultimately became more than four hours together.

And those hours mattered.

We got them a hot meal after learning they had not eaten. We went to Walmart and purchased enough food and necessities to help get them through the weekend. And during all the driving, waiting, searching, and simply sitting together, there was time to talk.

We explained that the questions weren't about judging them or prying into their lives. We needed to understand what had happened, what resources they had, what barriers they were facing, and who—if anyone—they could turn to, because those answers would help determine what kind of assistance could come next.

Little by little, there was trust.

Before we parted ways that afternoon, we prayed with them and for them.

Prayer is how HVOG's begins its meetings, and prayer is how we adjourn them. But that Saturday, our closing prayer looked a little different from the one that opened our meeting.

Two young women who hadn't been part of our plans that morning were now standing with us.

Meanwhile, another piece of the puzzle had already fallen into place.

One of HVOG's newest members works directly with individuals and families experiencing housing instability and is connected with additional community resources. After the young women were finally settled for the weekend, we spoke about their situation and some of the resources that may be available to help them.

So this story isn't over.

Monday morning, we will begin connecting these young women with those resources and working toward the next step—one that we hope will move them beyond an immediate two-nightsolution and toward greater stability.

And perhaps that is what made Saturday so meaningful.

We had gathered that morning to talk about community service.

We discussed fundraisers. Future events. Christmas. Cancer walks. Plans for giving back to the neighborhood that raised so many of us.

Then, before we could even leave the grounds of the elementary school, the mission stopped being something on an agenda.

It was sitting outside.

It looked like two frightened 18-year-old young women who needed food, safety, patience, and someone willing to stay long enough to figure out what came next.

Different members contributed in different ways. One person noticed. Others contributed what they could. Someone had connections to resources. Reggie and I kept searching when one option after another didn't work.

No one person had everything those young women needed.

But together, a community had something to offer.

More than four hours after it began, they were finally settled somewhere safe for the weekend.

Later that evening, after I finally made it home exhausted, I put my feet up.

And then the storm came.

The rain poured down.

My mind immediately went back to that nature trail at Hidden Valley Elementary and to where those two young women might have been that night.

Instead, they had a roof over their heads.

There is still work to do. There are no guarantees about what comes next, and two nights of shelter do not solve homelessness.

But for that weekend, two young women weren't sleeping outside.

We began the day with prayer.

We ended it with two more people in that prayer than we ever expected.

Sometimes community service is a mission you plan.

And sometimes, the mission finds you.