You'll Find Love

St. John of the Cross famously wrote, “Where there is no love, put love, and you will find love.”  I’ve been discovering how true that is in the Mercy Mission.  Most of those whom we encounter are on the streets because of a dire lack of love in their lives, in many cases, since early childhood.  Yet I am struck over and over again by how positively they respond to the little ways we love them, and how happy they are when they can show us love in return.  Four encounters come quickly to mind.

Nick’s Repaired Rosary

The day I started to really pray with St. John of the Cross’s line was in February, after I encountered Nick for the third time.  I’d first met him in May of 2024, when I was speaking with another friend, and in that meeting, he had first told me he didn’t really believe in God and then had proceeded to tell the other friend, “Jesus is everywhere, even in our darkest places,” which had given me an opportunity to proclaim the Gospel to them.  The second meeting, in August, Nick had given me a broken rosary, asking if I could fix it and have it blessed before giving it back to him. 

I’d carried the rosary around in my pocket for months, but hadn’t seen Nick again.  Then, in February, as Lindsay and I were visiting River, Nick walked up to me and asked about the rosary, which I had only stopped carrying a couple of weeks prior.  When I told him I had it and asked what I could pray for him for, he asked me to pray for him to make better choices.  Then, as he was leaving, he looked me intently in the eyes and said, “Thank you, Sister.  I love you.”

Riley’s Dumpster Lamp

Our friend Riley is 25, and has always shown a lot of appreciation for our visits.  Recently, Gabriel and Lindsay came back from an afternoon of street ministry and told me I needed to go see Riley on Friday, because he had something for me.  So on Friday afternoon, I made a carafe of coffee and some cookies, and headed out to Riley’s tiny home, which he built himself on two pallet jacks, all the parts pulled out of dumpsters, including the solar panel and battery.  When I showed up, Riley was outside, waiting for me, and presented me with a lamp—also made out of parts he’d pulled out of dumpsters.  Inside the lampshade, on which he’d hung a red rosary, he’d written a message of appreciation.  As he handed it to me, tears in his eyes, he said, “I really appreciate you, Sister, and the fact that you are teaching people my age to treat us like human beings.”

Tim’s Chairs and Prayers

Since about last September, our friend Tim has made sure to have a chair or two of some sort at his camp, so he can offer us a seat for our visits.  Recently, Lindsay and I were visiting him on a rather difficult day—a cul-de-sac across the railroad tracks from Tim’s camp was being swept, and Tim was helping various people move.  But when he saw us from across the tracks, he came striding over, offered us his two chairs, and sat on the ground to host us, as we shared coffee and conversation.  A week or so before, I had asked Tim if he would pray for me each night before he goes to sleep, and he had agreed.  That day, after hosting us, he told me, “Believe it or not, I am praying for you every day.”  The following week, as I said goodbye to him on a Mercy Night, he was smiling when he told me that he prays for me two or three times a day most days. 

Ben’s Help

On our most recent Mercy Night, I walked first back to the car to get something out of it for one of our friends who was leaving, and didn’t make it back to where Monika and Johnny were at the camp.  The camp we were visiting is accessed only by walking along an abandoned railroad track, so we hadn’t pulled in the wagon of soup and supplies, but carried everything by hand.  Since there were three things to carry, but only two people to carry them, Ben pitched in, carrying the box of supplies, walking with Johnny and Monika out to the car.  He was smiling as he put the supplies in the car, and when I said, “Thank you, Ben,” he responded, “It’s the least I could do.” 

The Mercy Missionaries and I are convinced that, even though we can do so little to try to make up for the great deficit of love our friends should have received and didn’t, the little love we give is bearing fruit.  We know because we experience ourselves loved in return, with the same kind of love—God’s love—that we give. 

~Sister Teresa