20/10/2026
Hope has a schedule. It shows up on Tuesdays.
But today, this Tuesday - we’re walking toward Jesus’ birthday.
And here, at this place, survival is met by sacrifice.
Every time I walk in here, my spirit goes first. Then it hits me in the chest- and my humanness has to catch up.
A weight - not just sadness, something deeper than that.
It smells like my childhood here, Stale ci******es. Early-morning alcohol is still warm on their breath. Unwashed bodies - weeks old. And yet they still come…
This is survival without the softness.
The rotunda where we meet each week, it is full, as they wait. Scattered old couches. Broken chairs. Dragged together. So people can linger longer. So that they can belong.
It’s 35 degrees outside today, The sweat running down our backs.
No one is born for this. Somewhere along the way, life leaves its damage. But, even here - damage can be exchanged for destiny.
But on Tuesdays, we come.
We show up with hope.
They take their groceries back to their rooms. And next Tuesday, We come again.
There are a few, they wait. Because hope has a schedule. And it shows up on Tuesdays.
Loneliness is clothing here. It hangs heavy. Joy doesn’t live easy in this place.
We’re not here to judge. Or correct. Or fix.
Just to love.
On a pole - Children of the Park 2025.
Little lines. Names. Ages. Heights.
Like a family home wall where kids grew taller and life grew full.
Except this shouldn’t be. It is a holding place. The “last straw” place.
But it’s their place. It’s their home. It’s their community.
A car pulls up. A little boy steps out. No older than ten.
Only a few bags left.
He asks, “Can we please have one?”
I say, “Here….take two.”
Because I was him.
I remember emergency housing. I remember kind strangers. I remember growing up and being the mum who couldn’t provide. Hands empty. Heart full.
Empathy hits different when your fingerprints are already there.
I step away. Just for a minute. I cry where no one sees.
Then I come back. Pick up another bag.
Because today - Today, we were hope again.
And hope has a schedule.
It shows up on Tuesdays.
Author: Kerrie Burrows