Some guests welcomed me quickly. Others were cautious—and rightfully so. But once they realized I was choosing to be there, choosing to enter their space with humility and respect, something shifted. Their stories began to unfold.
What struck me most was the diversity: young and old, some using walkers, some working second-shift jobs. Different races, backgrounds, beliefs. But what united them was a strong sense of community—offering each other care, laughter, and dignity despite their circumstances.
That night, we shared a warm meal provided by F3. We cooled off in Bethel UMC’s fellowship hall. I was lucky—because it was early in the month, I had a bed. The bunk room reminded me of scout camp: full of tired bodies, whispered jokes, and the quiet comfort of not being alone. One man dubbed our room “The White House,” saying that’s where “the Chief and the Chef” stayed.
By 1:00 and 2:30 AM, second-shift workers began to trickle in—proof that even those without a home are still grinding, still showing up.