Most of them did not care who she had become, for they knew the real Jessie. Some of them did not care because they couldn’t muster emotion about anything.
But others were still clinging to life, and to hope.
“Like Terri?” Josh asked between bites of a spicy chicken mango wrap.
“Like Terri,” Jessie answered, spearing a leaf of spinach.
But Josh realized that the one who was still really clinging to hope - was Jessie.
Yup. He got it, all right.
They spent the afternoon wandering the streets and working with the teams who aided the homeless by handing out blankets, sleeping bags, water, coffee, nourishment, kind words and hugs. Josh was in awe. Not a soul said a word to Jessie about her fame. Not a soul said an unkind word. These people were the kindest, most gentle people he had ever met. They were not artificial, fake, lost rich people playing wealthy people’s games and striving for more. They wanted only the simplest things in life – warmth, and a full belly. And they laughed – a lot. There was a definite community here, in these people whose reasons for being on the streets were as varied as the Christmas gifts under his family’s tree as a child. It was January now, and although Vancouver traditionally did not get a lot of snow, there was frost in the air and a light drifting of the flaky white wetness was nestled on their faces, arms, legs. It lent a surreal appearance to the bundles of folks huddled together and alone under blankets – haloed by the streetlights, they were paintings by the masters, all shadows and crags and wrinkles and heartbeats. They were sublime. Here, on the streets, living the most banal basic lives, they were transcendent, exalted. There was no way God or the Universe had forgotten His people, not a one of them, not a hair on a hand or a wrinkle on a face. This day was overwhelming in the glory it handed Josh, one genuine, simple, lovely face at a time.
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