I think of Cindy Ross often— especially when I walk those familiar trails to visit my homeless friends. She’s been gone since 2017, from cancer, but some memories walk beside me like they’re stitched into the air, waiting to be breathed in.
One memory, in particular, makes me smile. It was an “ordinary” evening in our street ministry life—though ordinary was never really ordinary with Cindy and me. We were headed down the trail to see my friend “Sandy”—not her real name—a woman who lived tucked away beneath the trees. But this day’s outing took a holy detour, thanks to Sandy’s new family member: a pitifully small puppy, ribs showing, eyes dull. Sandy couldn’t bear to leave him alone… and neither could I.
But sick puppies bring trouble. And we arrived to find her bedding had been baptized in puppy puke. Without a second thought, Cindy and I bagged up the mess and started toward the car, swatting mosquitoes the whole way.
