Last Friday night, I had an opportunity to tour Tent City 4, presently located in Issaquah, WA. Tent City 4 is a community of homeless people living in portable tents. The community takes up temporary residence for four months at a time in different locations throughout the year. At this time, it was sitting in the parking lot of the Community Church in Issaquah, which happened to be where I was scheduled to give a lecture that evening.

Here’s a picture of what the community looks like at night. “Tent City 4.”

When I entered the one entrance to the city of tents, men were standing around conversing, passing time, and finishing up dinner. They were courteous, said hello, smiled and were quite friendly. I immediately felt at peace there and started to wander down one of the aisles of tents to see what their living conditions were like. I didn’t take more than a few steps, and a young woman greeted me with a big smile and asked if I’d like a tour. “Sure, I replied,” and off we walked.

Seattle is wet and damp especially this time of year, so all tents were draped in blue or gray plastic to keep people inside dry. Furniture consisted of milk cartons to lay blankets on or stack as closet space. And there were minimal belongings inside the tents.

They had a washer/dryer set up to use, a place to shower, and a common meeting area to eat together and talk about their plans.

While walking down the aisles of crowded tents, my whole prayer was to understand their plight better. I had no desire to compare or judge, but to get a better sense of what these people were struggling with, the obstacles to progress they faced and how they could be permanently helped.

I saw a lot of dignity in these individuals. They certainly understood there were better places to be, but not one I talked with grumbled or complained about their present circumstances. In fact, they expressed immense gratitude for a dry place to sleep, food to eat in the evening and a safe place to live. And this was a safe place compared to the streets most all of them were very familiar with.

One man, Wayne, who had been there for several years, and had the responsibility of minding the donation tent, would light up with delight and joy as he expressed gratitude for all the benefits of living in Tent City 4. He knew what it was like on the “outside.”

As I listened, I thought, “It’s all relative. It’s all relative!” I thought about people living in plush homes and complaining about their mortgage payments or wanting to move to a bigger house. And then I looked at this simple man, bouncing with joy, thrilled to have a dry tent to sleep in at night and friends to talk with in the morning.

There was a group of men and women serving dinner, cleaning up and then heading off for the evening. They evidently had prepared dinner, a delicious looking stew, brought it in with side dishes and served the 84 hungry souls that night. Every one of them were smiling, laughing, enjoying themselves and happy to be of service to their community. I thought, “What a blessing for them, to have this opportunity to serve unselfishly and see the benefits.” I heard many of the homeless say, “Thank you for coming. Thank you for bringing dinner” and more kind remarks to these generous people who took time out from their busy lives to be there that evening.

Wayne showed me the Hilton Tent, which was space for 12 newbies to sleep when first arriving at Tent City 4. I asked permission to look inside. I peeked through the door. It was pitch black, cold, empty, barren. I saw plastic milk crates grouped together in eights, lined two side by side, four long. I asked Wayne “Is there any light?” He said “No, the city doesn’t allow electricity in the tents.” He explained the milk crates were the beds the men slept on. They would put blankets on the crates to stay up off the cold, damp ground.

As I prepared to leave, I saw worthy children of God in each of these individuals. They were good people stricken with hard times and, to them, monumental challenges.

I thought about times in Mary Baker Eddy’s life when she was penniless, had no home to call her own, and from outside appearances, looked like perhaps a downcast of society. But she knew her worth and value and didn’t let the world’s opinion of her hold her down. She never lost her faith. She marched on, never giving up, and eventually demonstrated in unequivocal form that she had a gift to give. She prospered and made a permanent mark on the world that will never be forgotten.

Each of these homeless people has a gift to give too. They have value and worth, intelligence and ability. They just needed some help to find it.

The first woman who graciously showed me around said she was going to the local community college and working toward a degree. This was a temporary stop she said, and told me about her plans to move into her own apartment as soon as she could afford it.

Listening to her courage, confidence and conviction, I have no doubt she would succeed.

I left the community heartened to have gained a little better understanding of what the homeless are dealing with, and also gratitude for the ability to help. I wasn’t able to stay there and serve dinner, but there are other ways I can help, and do help. The food, blankets, and services they need cost money, for which they depend upon generous support from the outside.

I did not leave feeling sorry for them. And they don’t want pity. I left feeling more love and compassion for them and more open to helping in ways that matter. And I think that is perhaps what they need most of all.