When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” (John 21:15)

It was one of those days.

We made our way home feeling like we did something significant. We heard a “Yes” after enduring weeks of “No” from the children and teens. It has been a long time. It seemed like they forgot that there is life beyond drugs. For the past weeks, we only saw them staggering around with a plastic bottle containing paint thinner protruding out of their mouth as if permanently attached to it. This has become their drug of choice at this moment. Their lives revolve around this toxic substance. It provides an easy escape from the brutal reality that confronts them. However, not everyone or everything is against them. We don’t want them to reject the good together with the bad. We couldn’t help feeling that our long talks and valuable times we once had with them was slowly becoming a distant memory. Fortunately, we know that this is not true. They are saying “no” for now. Thankfully, their “no” does not have to strength to resist Life. Eventually a “yes” will spring forth. This is our hope. Today, we heard Wallace say it.

A few weeks ago, we could not even have a coherent conversation with Wallace. He appeared as if he just gave up on everything and completely surrendered himself to drugs. We felt like helpless spectators watching a scene of self-destruction. We did not have the tools or words to remedy the situation and we are supposed to be the healers here. We just stood there and watched him slowly slip into perdition. I made a feeble attempt and muttered some cliché like “don’t allow drugs ruin your life”. I wished that it was something deep and powerful. This was the best I could say at that time. It did bring a smile to his face. He understood what we were trying to say. Maybe this is more important that the content of the words. Today he came to us, all sober and clean. We almost had forgotten how good and pleasant he looked without the cursed bottle of paint thinner attached to his mouth. He had a peaceful semblance and accommodated himself next to us. He told us that he wanted a safe place from drugs. We were this place for him.

Wallace just turned 24 a few days ago. Maybe this has something to do with everything. He was given an opportunity to think about his life. He is an intelligent man. Even though he has spent most of his childhood in the streets, he never lost his innocence. He refused to engage in anything that would hurt another human being. He survives by begging. Wallace cannot imagine himself being anything else but a homeless person. It is not something anyone chooses voluntarily. It was something imposed upon him since he was a child. He never learned to read or write. On many occasions, we tried to convince him to learn to write his name. He would recoil in fear. He did not want to feel stupid or incapable. It wasn’t a question of pride. He just couldn’t stand another humiliating experience. This was the greatest obstacle in this young man’s life.

Today, however, was different. He told us that he was tired of feeling nervous writing his own name. He had enough of feeling stupid or inadequate. He asked Mary if she would teach him. This is the first time he has asked anything of this sort. It was as if he was the prodigal son who saw the pigsty for what it was and now has decided that it was time to make his way back home. Perhaps, some might think that I am exaggerating here. After all, he just wants to learn to write. This is just a simple thing for many. For Wallace, it is something significant. He wants to take a big step into the unknown. Something has given him the courage to take this step. Being here to see this unfold in his life ignited a joyful sensation in our souls. We don’t actually know why and can’t explain it.

Wallace stayed with us until it was time for us to go home. He seldom spends such a length of time with us. There was something special about everything today. Finally a “Yes” after a dry period of “No”, this was enough to make our walk home a joyful one. For some reason my eyes focused on a young man devouring a churro with exquisite joy. Personally, I can’t find anything pleasant about this elongated donut stuffed with sickeningly sweet fillings. However, I was mesmerized by this young person consuming it with such childlike pleasure that I almost did not recognize him. He was our friend. Our eyes met at the precise moment the last piece of churro was in his mouth. His reaction was one of embarrassment and surprise. He desperately tried to swallow the pastry so that he could utter something to us. It bought me a few seconds to appreciate the miracle standing before us. He has terminal cancer. He is going through some experimental treatment as a last resort. It has been a tough period for his wife and two year old child to adjust to this dreadful situation. However, standing before us was a young man far from death’s door. It has been months since we last saw him. There was so much to talk about over a cup of coffee.

He could live for two or twenty years. This is what the doctors told him. No one knows for sure how this treatment will work. This is his reality and he has accepted it. He is an artist and it was the chemicals that he worked with that caused his cancer. Now, he still paints without the death-inducing materials. The proximity to death has brought much life to him; one of life’s paradoxes. His faith has deepened and broadened through this experience. He is seeing the face of God in people especially in those whom he least expected. He shared about one particular artist who called him up unexpectedly. She was never close to him and did not even know about his condition. Her call was quite random. They went for a meal together where she shared with him about her encounter with God. My friend was taken by surprise because she was not the religious sort. Now, she goes to a church that is rich with rituals. Besides this, she has stopped doing art altogether. She had been a successful artist previously. She elaborated that her art was her attempt to create windows in the world to seek for God’s face. Now, she can see Him clearly in the lives of those around her. Her art has fulfilled its purpose.

Windows…This resonated with me. Perhaps it would be a perfect name for the ministry we do in the streets. There is a difference. We don’t create the windows. We discover them. Wallace, the children and teens, my friend, everyone around him that makes life beautiful and rich are windows. God opens a window in our world to reveal His Love to us. There are many open windows in this world. We just walk pass them without noticing it. A young man believing that he can learn new things even though he has been told otherwise his whole life. A dying young man living his life to his fullest and discovering joy despite the news of his imminent death. A former artist discovering beauty in things beyond her own artistic creations. Who knows how many windows I have walked passed without peeking into the beauty revealed.

It has been one of those days. We went to streets a little sad about how things were going in our ministry. We return home like the prodigal son with a new understanding how God reveals His love to us. His love is always there. We just need to recognize the windows and gaze into their beauty.

Of course, the greatest joy is then sharing what we see with the rest of the world.