A Lasting Legacy

Day 73- A Lasting Legacy

What did you want to be when you grew up? Did you want to be a firefighter, ringmaster of the circus, a professional athlete? Most of us probably grew up to be something other than we planned, unless we received divine intervention in our youth.

What if we had parent’s that were raising us to be warriors for Him? I am pretty sure that if each of us were armed with the knowledge of who we are in Christ our outcome would be different. I remember one day in particular when God’s purpose for my life resonated in my heart.

I was a junior at Michigan State University and I had been volunteering at a homeless shelter. I knew a man named Milo Mitchell. He was a big man with puppy dog eyes, a smile that I could feel from across the room. Milo was gentle and quiet. He had fallen on hard times after his mother had passed away, losing his home and income.

One day I had asked Milo what he wanted and he said that he would be grateful if he had an apartment, a bike and a burner to cook his food on. That order didn’t seem too tough to fill, so we began the process.

It was a fall morning and I was due to pick him up in an alley at 6 A.M. I arrived promptly and Milo was nowhere to be found. I began calling his name and soon his face of courage peeked out and he sauntered over to my car. He seemed nervous and I tried to calm his fear with a gentle pat on his knee.

The thought had crossed my mind as to why he hadn’t applied for financial aid prior to my initiating but I brushed it off as humility.

The truth became clear after we arrived at Social Services and the nice lady behind the desk handed Milo a clipboard stacked with forms. We sat down at a round table and he stared blankly at the first line asking for his full name. At first I thought that he needed glasses and that was quickly added to our “to do” list but it was more than that. Milo wasn’t able to read.

Upon discernment that this gentle soul was too proud to have reached out for help, I began reading the form to him and asking him the questions that led to his freedom. After that day, his future changed he would no longer have to meet someone in the alley, he had a home. He didn’t need  to walk to the shelter, he had a bike. He no longer needed to wait in line for a meal, he had a burner. One man, one college girl, a society to help, and the Lord to orchestrate it all. After that day, I decided that if I went to my grave at that moment that I had made a difference. A difference was made in the life of one, which was worth every breath I had already taken.