Our Lady
Engagement With The Homeless
Engaging with people who are homeless in the City Centre
It Won’t Be Enough...But Maybe It Was
A reflection on love, dignity, and the little way.
Diana 4th May 2025
Last Friday, I joined Fr Cecil and a few other parishioners to reach out to people experiencing homelessness in the city centre. I wasn’t sure we’d find many out, but by the third person we met, I thought: it won’t be enough.
This reflection shares what we witnessed, what we received in return, and what the saints call us to see in every small act of mercy.
Setting Out
I wanted to share some thoughts and reflections from going into the city centre with Fr Cecil, and a few others on Friday evening, to reach out to people experiencing homelessness.
Seeing how sunny it was, I didn’t expect to see many people.
Yet by the time we came across just the third person, I was already saying to myself “It won’t be enough”.
It won’t be enough. The supplies, the socks, the time.
Familiar Faces, Familiar Needs
The first person we met was an artist, sitting, outside, drawing. Just as he was on a cold wintery night a few years ago, when I last saw him.
I meant to offer to buy one of his drawings. Next time.
We went over to people. Other saw us, seemed to recognise helping hands, and approached us; and some even called their friends over.
We quickly learned, again, that there are never enough socks.
There are never enough socks. Socks are like gold on the streets.
Generosity and Gratitude
Almost everyone we met expressed their profound gratitude: a simple “thank you”, a “God bless”, a smile, a handshake, even a hug, an embrace.
Once again, no one we encountered was greedy. Not one person took more than they needed.
“I’ve got enough of this (particular items or food), keep it for someone else who needs it more.”
“I’m okay today.’
“Yes, I’ll take something, anything you have.”
A Witness to the Gospel
They live out: “Give us this day our daily bread”.
I don’t know if they believe, or if they’ve ever prayed those words, but I witnessed in those people something of the truth behind those words.
Not clinging. Not hoarding. Simply receiving what was offered, enough for that day.
It was a quiet trust, a surrender to the moment, and it humbled me.
This example calls us to live the words our Lord Jesus taught us, more deeply.
To mean them.
To trust them.
Listening, Learning.
The Weight of What We Heard
Our offer was of practical help, our time, compassion, and to listen, if they wanted to share: pieces of their lives and their stories. Many did.
And their witness broke me, in the best and worst ways.
Not all encounters were positive or uplifting.
There was undeniable hardship. Sadness. The physical state and hygiene of most people we met were striking. So was the poor health of at least three individuals.
We saw clearly the effects, and sometimes the causes, of long-term street life: substance dependence which complicates so many lives, trauma, mental illness, and silent suffering.
The youngest person we saw looked barely out of his teens.
It broke my heart.
Weekends Are the Hardest
I was shocked to hear that, for those without homes, weekends are the worst days, the days they dread.
More people out. More drink. More abuse. More danger.
Some stay in pairs or small groups not just for company, but for safety in numbers.
Stories of Pain and Dignity
We heard stories of families torn apart for various reasons.
One man told us of being physically dragged away while still in his sleeping bag, and another time, being physically assaulted for several minutes by a group of youths. Just for fun.
We met one man who told us he had been clean from drugs for nine years, but for the past two weeks, he had sadly relapsed. He was visibly upset about it. He cried.
He actually cried.
Vulnerability that people on the streets don’t often show as openly.
Ashamed.
Heartbroken.
Another family fractured.
He said that sometimes, in the depths of it, he had felt he didn’t want to be here anymore.
Even so, he had made the effort then to save a number of a drug and alcohol support team on his friend’s phone, he no longer had one himself.
I believed him. I saw him. I still do.
Moments of Connection
Some people just wanted to talk.
One man didn’t so much focus on telling us about his own struggles, but rather he spoke fondly about his dear mum, who has dementia, and how relieved he was that she was now in a place where she can be cared for.
He glanced and smiled at the two young men with us, pleasantly surprised, I think, quietly in admiration that they had come out to help.
In that moment, and even now, I could not be prouder of those two young men.
He told us we were the first people who had truly spoken to him all day.
He was invisible.
“As soon as I say excuse me, they say ‘sorry, no change’. They don’t even look at us”.
The words we heard from a few stayed with me:
“We are human too. We are people. We don’t hurt no one.”
Complex Realities, Hidden Stories
There was also at least one person who seemed to be pretending to be homeless, seemingly part of something more organised, though possibly themselves in a situation of exploitation- people trafficking, modern slavery perhaps. It highlighted the complexity we don’t always understand
Not Enough, And Yet, Somehow, Enough
Overall I had mixed feelings.
I had wanted to go out again before, but hadn’t. On Friday part of me felt it might be a bit pointless given the good weather.
But there were so many people in need. We ran out of supplies.
In that moment, there just wasn’t enough. Time. Supplies. Socks.
And part of me still feels:
There will never be enough.
Not enough socks.
Not enough time.
Not enough solutions.
But later, reflecting on the encounters, I thought that perhaps, for those 15 or so we met,
Maybe it was enough.
The human connection.
The moment of being seen.
The gestures of love and care.
Maybe that will be enough, for a bit longer.
And truly, in so many ways, they helped us too.
The Little Way
Later that night, Sainte Thérèse of Lisieux came to my mind. I thought of her “little way.” Of the small flowers she offered to God.
Then I understood a little more of what she set out to do, and of what she encouraged us to do through her “little way”: doing small things with great love. tending to the “little flowers” around us.
And maybe last night, those encounters were little flowers, too.
Offered not just for them, but perhaps, ultimately, for our Eternal Father.
One small act of love at a time.
What We Can Still Do
Beyond the practical help and those moments of connection, I believe one of the most important things we can do is pray.
I prayed.
For the ones we met.
For the ones we didn’t.
For their families.
For the poor.
For those without homes.
Gratitude and Grace
I am deeply grateful to Fr Cecil, whose faithful witness in regularly going out on these visits blessed us with the opportunity to join him, and to share in these acts of service.
I am also grateful to those we met, who, in receiving, gave us the chance to serve.
In many ways, they were the ones offering us something: the chance to witness dignity, to be humbled, to practise love.
It was a small light in the dark, may it be enough.
Sainte Thérèse of Lisieux, pray for us.
Saint John the Baptist, pray for us.
Saint Benedict Joseph Labre, pray for us.
Saint Francis of Assisi, pray for us.
Saint Vincent de Paul, pray for us.