Midnight in Manhattan
On the hottest night of the year, I joined Rob Zelony and Paula Sigmon and Craig ? on the Midnight Run into the heart of the city.  We worked up a little sweat in the storefront in Dobbs Ferry where we got everything ready to load on  the van.  There was the food that had been packaged in our church kitchen earlier that day and clothes all neatly organized by size.  The air conditioning of the van ride in made us forget just how hot it was.  But when we opened the door in front of St. Bartholomew's on Park Avenue we got a blast of hot, humid air.
We quickly forgot about the heat and got to work because there was a huge crowd of 30 or 40 waiting for us.  Craig opened up shop at the back of the van and handled the requests (got a size 38 belt? Do you have one in brown?) with patience and dignity.  Paula scooped servings of Beth Zelony's famous pasta salad and poured cups of ice tea and cold water (hey, doesn't the gospel say something about offering a cup of cold water?).  My job was to hand out sandwiches and socks (it seemed the socks were more popular).  Rob supervised the whole operation and talked with folks he has seen for years doing the Run.
I met Julio from Mexico.  He looked tired, but was very pleasant.  We could talk a little about my travels in Mexico.  I couldn't tell if he missed Mexico or not.  Life was hard there and life is hard here.
There was a young couple navigating life on the streets together.  She spent a long time looking through a box of women's clothes, while he kept coming back for pasta.  He asked what the weather was supposed to be like the next day.  When we told him it was going to be even  hotter he began to formulate his plan to stay cool.  "We can ride trains all day," he said; but she reminded him that he would get arrested if he fell asleep on the train (not sure if that's true, but you're not supposed to sleep).  Then he listed off the other places they could go in Manhattan.  He didn't seem too worried.  I guess one hot day is not the biggest challenge he's faced in life.
The oldest Jewish Temple in the city was our last stop.  The crowds were thinning as it was now well after midnight.  At this stop I talked to a woman whose country of origin I never did figure out.  She wanted to tell me about her sons.  Her 19 year old lived with her in a shelter in Harlem.  Her 21 year old was on the streets, because he was too old for the shelter.  She prayed for her boys everyday.  I told her I would pray for them too.  She was grateful for what we could share with her and she settled in for the night right there because it was too late to go back to the shelter.
It was late when I got home to my shelter (after 2 am).  We were quiet on the way home.  We were tired, but we also had a lot to think about.  We all talked about how grateful we were to have beds to come home to and no one needed to be up real early the next day.
When I crawl into my warm bed for many nights to come I will think of people living on the streets.  When we gather for worship I will think of the words I read on a poster in the Midnight Run office, "How can you worship one homeless man on Sunday,  and the ignore another on Monday."  Enough said.  Thank you Midnight Run team.