Blade and the Blessing Bag

“Blade,” the disheveled man said when I asked him his name.

I thought, who names their baby “Blade”? In my mind, I pictured switchblades and dangerously sharp knives.

Blade was anything but knifelike. He was like a gentle breeze, his voice barely audible as he shyly looked at me.

During the summer months as I walked through the area where Blade ventured, I tried to engage him in conversation. One day, I saw where he slept. He was standing by his possessions, packing up, getting ready to move on for the day.

“Have you got a place to stay in the coming winter?”

“I’ve got a good sleeping bag,” he said.

“That won’t be enough.”

He smiled, undisturbed.

Troubled by his nonchalance, I envisioned daggerlike freezing rain, stabbing cold, and cutting snow.

In the next months, I saw Blade in the public place where he spent his days: headphones on, playing a video game, his possessions a circled wagon surrounding his daytime territory.

As winter set in, I looked for Blade each time I stopped by the public place. “Is Blade still alive after the cold nights?” I wondered. Yes, there he sat. Same posture. Same activity. Same circled wagon.

I talked to an employee at the public place about my concerns for Blade. I learned that the employee had tried to help Blade. Also, two police officers had done a wellness check and talked with Blade about social services and shelters in which he could receive assistance. Blade’s answer? He was fine.

Many nights the Holy Spirit brought Blade to my mind, prompting me to pray for his survival. On numerous occasions when I saw Blade from a distance in the public place, I wanted to talk with him again, but it was obvious he wanted to be left alone. I wanted to respect him as he lived in his own mental space, a space I could never comprehend but for which I felt great compassion.

I prayed. I waited.

Then a surprise opportunity was presented to me. Our church’s youth group had initiated a drive to collect items for unhoused members of our community. Through the prompting of the Holy Spirit, our church family responded generously. The youth assembled 100 “Blessing Bags” filled with snacks, socks, toques (hats), mittens, water bottles, encouraging notes, and $5 Tim Hortons gift cards. Our church family members were asked to take a bag and give it to an unhoused person.

I grabbed a package with a warm scarf wrapped around it. “That’s for Blade,” the Holy Spirit whispered.

After our morning coffee time at church, my husband Rinke and I headed home. When we were halfway there, again I heard the Holy Spirit’s prompting: “Bring a bag to Blade right now.”

I knew I would most likely find Blade in the public place in which he found daytime shelter. Yes, there he was! I walked up to him.

“Hi, Blade. I have a gift for you.”

Blade looked up from his video game.

“It’s a bag filled with items.”

Blade’s eyes lit up.

“Have you found a warm place to sleep?”

Softly he answered, “No, but I have a sheltered spot.”

I knew I couldn’t convince Blade to come in from the cold.

“God loves you, and I pray for you.”

Blade smiled and accepted the bag.

As I walked away, I was pierced with joy. I recognized the author of that joy and the hero in these converging events—the Holy Spirit! The Holy Spirit guided me to meet Blade this summer and prompted me to pray for him. The Holy Spirit worked in our youth and their leaders to assemble Blessing Bags. The Holy Spirit moved Rinke and me to find Blade after church. The Holy Spirit gave me the words to bless Blade.

The sword of the Spirit—the word of God—at work in all of us who were part of this journey, is “sharper than any double-edged sword” (Heb. 4:12), a blade that brings life to all who believe.