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A Different Story

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I recently took a trip to Honolulu, Hawaii. It was such a beautiful place! We stayed at the Aston Hotel on Waikiki Beach. I loved going to the beach and seeing the entertainment. But there was something I disliked.
Lining every street was homeless people. A year or two ago, I wouldn't have thought much of it. But seeing them there, looking as the slept by the street, I felt something. I felt pain; pain because they don't have a warm bed and I do. I felt sad; sad because they don't have a loving family caring for them. But I also felt hope; hope that this will change. Hope that I wanted to pass on. But I was scared.
Thinking about it, I wonder why they were there. Was their house wrecked? Did they lose their job and couldn't pay rent? Were they kicked out? Do they have a family? If I had asked, every story would have been different. But they would all end the same; that street. The one thing those dozens of people had in common. The place where they ate, talked, and slept.
I wonder where they went when it rained. I wonder how many meals they had per day. I wonder if anyone tried to help them. I could have... but I didn't. I should have. But I didn't. And now... now I want to go back. I have to go back. Because I CAN help.
True, I can't give them a house. I can't get them a job. I can't take them in off the street. But I can give them something to help them achieve those things. I can give them hope... hope and love. That's all they really need. No, really! Think about it. When you've lost hope and are about to give up, but someone encourages you... you gain streangth. When you're alone, don't you want a friend?
So I'm going back. And when I do, I'm going to ask them their story. Then I'm going to give them what they need most... a friend.



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