Free Entertaining Angels by JUDY DUARTE

watched as she strode out of the soup kitchen, her head up, yet her shoulders slumped.
    Poor kid.
    “Pastor?”
    Craig turned to see George heading toward him. He had a woman with him, the middle-aged brunette who was wearing the red plaid apron.
    “This is Dawn Randolph,” George said. “Our soup kitchen would have shut down months ago if she hadn’t single-handedly stepped in and volunteered to do all the grocery shopping and cooking.”
    Dawn had a scatter of freckles across her nose, making her look younger than she probably was. As she reached out to greet Craig, a smile lit her brown eyes. “It’s nice to meet you.”
    “I guess we’ll be working together,” he said.
    “That’s what I heard. I’m looking forward to having your help.”
    “Your husband mentioned that there’s a group of people trying to get the church to move the kitchen out of town,” he said.
    She tucked a curly strand of hair behind her ear. “Sometimes, when the problems in society are hidden, people don’t see the need to fix them.”
    “Do you get a lot of homeless?” He wondered about Jesse, the man he’d met last night. Did he know there was a place he could get a hot meal each day?
    “Yes, we do. And we try to do whatever we can to help them get back on their feet. The Ladies Aid has been gathering secondhand clothing. And when they find something that would be suitable for a job interview, like a suit and a matching shirt and tie, they have them dry-cleaned or one of the group launders and presses them. Then they place a coordinated ensemble in a plastic garment bag.”
    “That’s a great idea.”
    “We also provide the homeless with the church’s address and a phone number with voice mail in case they need to fill out a job application.”
    Craig thought of the young woman who’d just walked out.
    “There was a girl here earlier,” he said. “A young woman, I guess. She’s looking for work, but doesn’t have a phone number. If I’d known that, I would have passed the information along.”
    “You mean the little blonde with straggly hair?” Dawn asked.
    “You noticed her?”
    “I notice all of them, especially the young ones.”
    “How old do you think she was?” Craig asked.
    “It’s hard to say. Sixteen maybe?”
    “That’s what I thought. I wonder where her parents are.”
    “Who knows? Hopefully, working. I try to be friendly and welcoming at first. I hate coming on too strong. Some people aren’t happy about needing charity, so I take a little time to get to know them. But my heart always goes out to the kids.”
    Craig could understand that.
    “I plan to get to know her better next time,” Dawn said. “That is, assuming she comes back.”
    “She’ll be back. I have a feeling she isn’t used to getting regular meals.”
    “For the most part, the majority of those we help are down-and-out adults. Some of our regulars are senior citizens trying to make ends meet during the last days of the month before their social security checks arrive. And then we get some people who are homeless and will probably stay that way for various reasons.”
    “Drugs and alcoholism?” he asked.
    “That certainly is a problem for some of them. And unless they’re willing to get help, it’s difficult to force it on them.” She crossed her arms and sighed. “I’m afraid there are a few who will never get back on their feet. But that doesn’t make them any less hungry.”
    “Does it ever get to you?” he asked. “Working with people who don’t always want to be helped?”
    “Yes, but a lot of the people who utilize the soup kitchenjust need a foot up. A boost. A little love and compassion.” Dawn slipped her hands into the pockets of the apron she wore. “It’s really tough when I see families that have been uprooted. I try to do whatever I can to help. In the evenings at home, when Joe is on duty, I make stuffed animals and rag dolls. I keep them in a box in the kitchen, then pass them out to the