The Mail Carrier of Hope

By Pam Kumpe

Some days, our wandering feels a little more like wondering. We take steps that leave us confused or tired, or that end up leaving us with calluses in places nobody can see. But even there, the Lord is working—within us, around us, and often beyond what we realize.

He reminded me of that again after I had spent time with a few homeless friends, dropping off Gatorade and little nuggets of friendship. I had emptied my trunk and was driving away when I rounded the block and noticed five or six people sitting beneath some oak trees.

I looked over, but I kept going. After all, I was out of everything. That should have settled it, right? Apparently, the Lord and I were not finished with that conversation.

As I drove, the thoughts came like letters dropping into a mailbox. Why did you come to town today? To ignore or to love on people?

You can probably guess where I ended up, back at the store buying more Gatorade.

Soon I was under those oak trees, greeted by smiles and one woman who wrapped her arms around my neck. Her days, weeks, and months had been hard, and life had left bruises on her heart.

She and I headed for cheeseburgers for the dozen or so friends who had now gathered. And listen, when you’re hungry, a cheeseburger is practically a postcard from heaven, and fries are the stamp of approval.

As we drove, she began talking as if she had opened a stack of long-lost letters. She told me about the past year, the hurt, the loneliness, the broken pieces. She cried, and I listened. I didn’t have answers for all of it, but I know the One who does, so I reminded her of Christ, His care, and His nearness.

When we returned, she touched my arm. “I’ve been asking everybody if you still came to see us. And here you are.”

“But I’m just me,” I told her. “The Lord is our help in time of need. He’s your truest help.”

“I know,” she said. “But you remind me of that. I just needed a friend.”

Before I left, we gathered beneath those trees and prayed specifically for one another. A woman across the park had been watching us, and as I got into my car, she motioned me over.

“I saw you pray with them,” she said. “Will you pray with me?”

So I got back out, and the same friend who had cried with me earlier followed. Together, we prayed with a stranger beneath another oak tree.

When the burgers were handed out, one homeless friend realized someone else was even hungrier than he was, so he gave his lunch away.

I have thought about that ever since. Would I do the same?

Maybe that’s part of what God keeps teaching me on these streets. We are all carrying messages. Every conversation writes something on somebody’s heart, every act of kindness delivers something, and every prayer can carry hope into a place where hopelessness has been sitting far too long.

We don’t have to be the answer. Thank goodness—that job is already taken. We simply have to be willing to carry the message: Christ sees you. Christ loves you. Christ has not forgotten you.

So pay attention today. There may be an envelope waiting to be delivered through your hands, your words, your lunch, your time, or simply your friendship.

God is still the mail carrier of hope, and sometimes He lets us help with the delivery.