Snow Angel

Joe would never forget what the activists did to him. It had been winter in Atlanta, colder than most but not cold compared to Boston or Colorado. Still, the chill had reached through his turtleneck, sweatshirt, and heavy jacket to make him shiver deep inside, and despite his heavy gloves his fingers were numbing.

That night, several of the “radical” students were trying to alert people to the plight of the homeless. They were camped out on the quad, shivering. In the center of the group, a huge fire blazed, reaching toward the heavens, but Joe could see it did little to expel the bitter cold. The students still shivered, despite their warm layers.

Joe almost felt sorry for them, but shrugged. They had made their choice. As for himself, nothing could force him to stay outside on a night like this. He was glad to go inside where it was warm.

He stopped then, literally, as a nasty little thought crossed his head. What about the people who didn’t choose? What about the homeless? As he thought about the piercing cold, he realized they had no way to escape it.

Those darn activists! he thought wryly. They actually managed to prove their point.

The thought stayed with him through the rest of college, especially when the winters got icier. It didn’t leave when he applied for and then accepted a job in Washington, D.C. If the cold could manage to creep into his home even with a heater working double-time, how bad was it outside, he wondered.

Finally, he could take it no longer. He had to do something.

“Yes, Joe?” Mr. Harrison looked up when Joe rapped lightly on his door.

Joe stepped into his boss’ office, fidgeting with a file he had brought. He was about to make what could be the biggest mistake in his career.

“Sir, I wanted to talk to you about the weather.” Joe cleared his throat.

Mr. Harrison’s eyebrows went up. “The weather?”

“Yes sir. There’s a cold front moving in, the weathermen are predicting snow.” Joe forced himself to hold the file still. “Sir, it’s supposed to get well below freezing tonight and, well, the homeless shelters are full.”

Mr. Harrison looked puzzled. “Joe, I don’t follow you. What exactly does that have to do with our company.”

Joe gulped. “Well, sir, it’s like this. We have an empty warehouse right now, with the power on and the heat running.” He held up the file. “I know you are a Christian man, sir,” – Mr. Harrison was always talking about donations he had made to this or that charity, and how God had helped him to rise so far and be so successful – “and, well, I thought you would consider opening the warehouse up to the homeless for a few days.”

Mr. Harrison sat back in his chair. “Why would I do that?” he asked.

“Sir, it’s like this. Right now, in Washington, D.C., there are almost 10,000 people living on the streets. Roughly thirty percent of those are children. That’s over 3,000 kids out there right now!” Joe gestured out the window caked with ice. “And sir, there’s just not enough beds, not enough places to go. If you could give them somewhere to stay, even just during the nights, to keep them out of the worst of it, you would be saving lives, sir!”

He looked at his boss, who had his arms folded in front of him and was staring at Joe with a strange expression on his face.

“And, um, it would be good PR, too, for the company,” Joe concluded weakly.

Mr. Harrison said nothing. He thought for a minute. Then he stood up, clasped Joe on the shoulder, and said, “Okay, Joe, you’re in charge. Just make sure nothing gets broken.”

So now Joe was driving around town in a rented van, looking for people to load up. He began by hitting the existing shelters and telling the coordinators there about the new temporary shelter. He had already spoken with some people from his church, and they were manning the building, helping people out as best they could.

Several shelters were already full. At one, a woman with two small children was being turned away. There was just no more room.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” he said, approaching her. She looked at him suspiciously, and he held his hands free of his pockets so he wouldn’t appear threatening. “There’s another shelter with room, we just opened it.” Her face lit up. Then he gave her its location, and her face fell.

“We’ll never make it over there,” she sighed. It was across town.

“I can give you a ride, if you like.” Another look of suspicion. Joe pointed to his van. “You can sit in the back with the children.”

The mother looked at the snowflakes falling around. Apparently she decided the winter storm would be more threatening than Joe. She and the children – two and four, they looked like – climbed inside.

“How long have you been living on the streets?” he asked, trying to make conversation.

“Two weeks. I was working at a fast-food place, but then Tommy here,” she gestured to the baby, “he got sick, and I had to take him to the doctor. My boss fired me for missing work, then my landlord evicted me.”

“Don’t you have any family or friends or something?” Joe asked, horrified.

The woman shook her head. “No, my family’s all down in Alabama. We got no one.”

When they reached the shelter, she unloaded the children. “Thank you,” she said. “You’re an angel.” They went inside to bask in the heat.

Joe went out to find some more people to bring inside.

This story was the jumping off point for a similar yet different story. I guess I needed the warmup!

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