What love looks like

Most Sunday mornings, I’m the first person to arrive at our church building. There is often last-minute printing to do (I have learned that our church printer can be a temperamental beast, and it’s best to leave enough time to properly engage the hostilities), last-minute prepping for the high school Sunday school class I lead, and a handful of other odds and ends to ensure are in place before things get rolling around 9:45. But my wife and daughter were at a swim meet, and it turned out that my teenage son’s heart was not quickened by the prospect of getting up early to arrive at his dad’s customary time. So the lights were on when I arrived at church. Which was unusual.

What was even more unusual was the scene that greeted me when I walked in the front door. Two hunched over figures with their backs to me were rolling up their sleeping bags, gathering backpacks, and preparing to depart. A church member was there with them. I was more than a little surprised. My son kind of just stood there with his guitar and stared. “This is _____ and _____,” our church member said. “They spent last night in the front entrance. They’re just getting ready to head out.”

Right.