Arriving in Philadelphia

As we arrive in Philadelphia, a blanket of peace envelopes us. The city was not the city that I remembered 20 years ago, a city full of garbage and decay and despair. This city is alive, clean and full of love and hope.

Our hotel is in the French Quarter district on 17^th and Market. It is a quaint hotel with a Doorman and a Bellhop. They immediately make us feel welcome even though they have just been inundated with over 150 tired and hungry people. They provide a sense of serene calm amidst the chaos. I know this will be a safe haven from the expected crowds in the days to come.

On the trip down my husband had warned me about the cities immense homeless population and suggested that I not engage them or make eye contact. I am saddened by his lack of compassion and wonder where his heart is, as we are here as representatives of our Catholic Faith, feeding the hungry is a corporal work of mercy. I decide to appease him, and not get into it.

We check in and prepare to walk to the convention center for the opening ceremonies of the World Meeting of Families (WMOF). A group of us walk together talking and laughing as we rounded the block. With my husband holding my hand, I see a girl sitting at the corner with a sign that said her name, a brief description of how she became homeless and a cup for change. As our eyes meet, my heart aches for her, she is so young, my instinct is to pull out some change but I feel my husband pulling me along. The moment is lost and I am left with the image of this girl’s face and a heavy heart.

I wonder what it would be like to be homeless, to be the one sitting on the corner with a cup, my name and a description of how I came to be there. For I know full well that calamity can happen to anyone.

I think, this is someone’s daughter.