By Gale Stoddard
We locked eyes as he thanked me for the couple of dollars I put in his hand. With his other hand he took the shopping bag I handed him. It was heavy because it contained two cans of Vienna sausage, two bottles of water, energy bars, paper plates, plastic forks and spoons, and some candies to whet his appetite.
That’s when I saw Jesus in his eyes. I felt elated and my heart was bursting with joy that my Savior is in the eyes of every person I help.
I have been feeding the homeless on the streets of my hometown of Buena Park for nearly seven years.
One interesting story is about Ron, whom I have known for the past five years, as I have given him water, energy bars, and newspapers such as the Bloomberg News, Times, Saturday Evening Post, Reader’s Digest, etc. He loves to read although he has to hold the books and magazines very close to his eyes. I asked him if he was able to read the letters and he said he could.
One blessed day as I was looking in the trunk of my car for my bags of recyclables, Ron came up behind me and tapped me on the shoulder.
“Here, take this because you have been so good to me for the last five years,” he said.
I was stunned; a homeless man was giving me a $20 bill. So I asked if it would be okay to get dollar bills to give to the other homeless friends and he just smiled.
Ever since I was a little girl five years of age, I have been blessed with altruistic tendencies because my mom, who was a pharmacist in the Philippines, used to give medicine away to the poor who could not afford them, while my father, a good-looking and utterly generous Spaniard, was a medical doctor and treated everyone for free.
So I saw a life of giving awaiting me in my future, which I looked forward to. I knew then when you give with your heart God will multiply it tenfold.
In turn, I have taught this to my children and now my grandchildren are givers too. The youngest grandson, Gregg Jr., saw fit to give away his expensive tennis shoes and clothes because someone needed them. His parents told him, “Those are brand new,” but he insisted that he was obligated to give to the poor.
I was so proud of Gregg that my heart swelled with joy. While his parents looked up and shook their heads, I told myself, “Yes, my role-modeling is working. Thank you sweet Jesus.”
Also, there is a married couple living in a car near the general tract where I live. I go there often to give them hot food from my oven and cold drinks. I gave them a pumpkin pie for the holidays and she asked me if I could give her more of the same.
Another lady I befriended who is always at our church chapel appointed herself to be the guard of the blessed sacrament in the altar where I go for daily Eucharistic Adoration. A few months ago, she was found peacefully sleeping or so they thought, until they felt her pulse and knew she had died. A beautiful mass was said in her honor by the gracious Pastor Fr. Paw.
Over the years, I have met dozens of homeless people gathered outside the church door; that before the local authorities banned them, but one starry night I decided to take dozens of cold water bottles, sodas, Vienna sausages, energy bars, and packaged fruit and nuts, when suddenly a man called out from the dark corner asked, ”Hey lady, do you have hot tea?”
I apologized profusely and told him that next time I would be sure to bring him some tea.
Another time, I was distributing treats by a building where there was a congregation of homeless people. I offered a blanket to a man dozing off on the concrete floor. When he sat up to talk with me, I said, “When you’re feeling down and out that’s when God is holding you up.”
With twinkling eyes he said, “We are truly blessed, sister. God is blessing us every day.”
I was surprised because here was a poor man truly satisfied for his lot in life and still thanking God for everything.
That is not so with some of the “nouveau riche” people I know who complain incessantly about their three new Mercedes Benzes costing a fortune to maintain. I prefer hanging out with the homeless, for they are close to God than a lot of people who are worshiping material things.
I avoid people lost in money and possessions. So much so that they do not get invited into my home for my daily and weekly prayer meetings, nor to our family celebrations.
It is not always rosy looking for homeless people in the streets because not all of them welcome help.
One night I decided to take hot chicken sandwiches to the Fullerton train station and was met with hostility. I offered some treats but was told to go away.
They might have been war veterans suffering from PTSD or other forms of depression. When this happens, I say, “God loves you and I love you too.”
I work for a living as a much-sought-after professional musician, pianist, singer, and entertainer for the Southland’s retirement communities, performing hundreds of shows a year. Helping the homeless is my way of bringing joy in the Lord’s name.
As a widow, orphan, and mother of four adult children and grandma to three teenagers, I was told by hostile Filipinos that “It’s a waste helping homeless as they’re all druggies,” judging me. So their church-going is a farce.
I feel sorry for them, so I pray for them that they will have peace and grace in their lives and I rejoice that I am at this point in my life where I can help people in the streets who are in need of food and friendship and who will listen to me testify about the Savior.
I help the homeless because I want to see my Savior’s eyes.
Jesus said, “Whatever you do to the least of my brethren, you are doing for me….Amen.”
