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My Encounter with Ken When Cindy Miller
headed back to her hotel room with a carton
full of leftover Chinese food, she had no
idea that it would lead to an unforgettable
encounter with a 52 year old homeless man
from Pennsylvania.
headed back to her hotel room with a carton
full of leftover Chinese food, she had no
idea that it would lead to an unforgettable
encounter with a 52 year old homeless man
from Pennsylvania.
I had no plans to reach out to a homeless person, but I
did. I arrived in San Jose, California, for a convention early
and explored the area around my hotel. I felt uncomfortable
as I strolled the city and encountered the homeless. My
most awkward feeling, however, was the quandary of
whether to do something or ignore the situation? In the
past, when I experienced fear of something, I needed to
face it, though I had no intention of acting on that thought.
Chinese Food from God
One evening I sat at a Chinese restaurant with three-
fourths of my fried rice left over. For some reason I took the
leftovers with me. On my way back to the hotel a young
man approached me and asked for money for food. I
declined and kept walking. Remembering the leftovers in
my hand, I realized I could have fed him. But the face of a
homeless man who sat by my hotel day-after-day, hour-
after-hour came to mind. I felt God’s gentle nudge to take
my leftovers to him. I argued with God for awhile. As I
approached the corner, I found him sitting on a bench with
three other homeless men. I wondered how I could offer
food to only one man, but God provided a way. Just as I
came around the corner, this man got up and walked
toward me. I offered him my food, made small talk with him
and asked about the lady I had seen delivering sandwiches
to him earlier, wondering if she was a mother or a sister.
“No, that’s Sadie, the cat lady. Everyday she feeds the
stray cats.”
We ended our short conversation, and he insisted on
giving me a hug. I received the hug as graciously as I
could. Returning to my hotel, I struggled with what just
happened. I asked God to relieve my fears, trusting that he
who had brought me to this point would see me through.
Meeting Ken
The next morning I felt convicted to continue the
relationship that had begun the night before. As usual, I
found this man on his bench and handed him his breakfast.
I told him he could expect me sharing each meal with him
until my departure. He said his name was Ken. I asked how
he got this way, and he was open about his alcoholism. As I
left, he thanked me with a hug, but this did not feel as much
of a violation as the first one.
On my way back to my room I wished I had not committed
to three encounters each day. A Mennonite youth ran up
from behind and said, “That was a really nice thing you did
back there.” He said that the night before, his youth group
discussed what to do with their leftover pizza. Though he
tried to persuade them to give it to someone in need, one
youth said, “I don’t want to relate to those kind of people.”
Three meals later, as I returned to my room, Ken saw me
walking by and yelled out my name. I approached him and
found him drunk. With all the respect I had, I told him I could
not talk with him right then. “Ken, can you sober up by
morning so we can talk?”
“For you, honey, I can.”
The Good and the Bad
The next morning I found Ken all alone when I delivered
his breakfast. This helped me relax and talk with him. I
heard his stories of better days—days when he was making
$17 an hour, when he was married, when he had money by
winning a lottery. But there were also unpleasant days he
shared—the day he found his wife with his best friend,
when his divorce was final and he skipped town, heading
for San José, when he graduated from rehab following a six-
month recovery and celebrated by going to the liquor store.
He told stories of 20 years of homelessness, of alcoholic
parents and living in a house full of smokers.
“My mom was a witch, God love her.” Then he said, “I
wake up every morning thanking God for keeping me safe
and for giving me another beautiful day.” My life holds so
many fewer challenges than his, yet I have many days I
wake up falling short of that thankfulness. As I headed back
to my hotel room, I felt blessed for having shared this time
with him.
Bring Ken In
I felt God nudging me to bring Ken into my world. I
needed to get four boxes from my hotel to the convention
site. I asked Ken, who was more than willing to help. He
kept his bike in the good care of a homeless friend, and I
arranged for Ken to meet me at the hotel lobby. He arrived
right on time and to my surprise had a utility cart, borrowed
from his hotel connections. As we headed to the convention
center, I wondered what people might think, perhaps not in
judgment but in curiosity. I enjoyed showing him around the
Mennonite Mission Network exhibit and introducing him to
my friends and co-workers.
Photo of a Friend
As the week wrapped up, I wanted a photo of Ken to add
to my memories of my travels. Ken was more than eager to
pose for a photo at my request, pulling out his prize
possession, his bike. He positioned it just so, backing up to
check the proper angle. A friend shot a couple photos of
us. Ken was excited and asked if he could get copies. In
one hour I had the photos developed and enclosed them in
a greeting card. As I handed him the envelope, he said he
didn’t want to open it until his birthday, Dec. 2. Selfishly I
convinced him to open it right away. He opened the card as
if to be handling a precious piece of glass. He read it with
reflection and gratitude, then looked at the photos. I
wonder how long it had been since he saw himself in a
photo. I suspect years.
Holding the photo of us, Ken said, “What are you doing
hanging out with this drunk?”
I said, “You ought to see the characters I hang out with.”
Later I headed to his usual spot on the park bench, only to
find his friend Jimmie James. I told Jimmie James that if Ken
could entrust him with his bike, I could entrust him to deliver
cards to Ken. I had both a birthday card and a Christmas
card for him. Jimmie James ran off to find Ken. As I waited, I
realized he would probably be drunk, since it was the end
of the day. I grieved that my last conversation with him
would be tainted with intoxication.
Saying Goodbye
Ken arrived in his drunkenness, and I said my
goodbyes. I handed him the two cards, marked “Do not
open until Dec. 2” and “Do not open until Christmas.” In his
thankfulness he hugged me for a long time. I took his hand
and said goodbye.
At first it appeared Ken wanted no more of his life than
he had. In an odd way, he was content. But I helped him
imagine recovery, and for a split second he almost tasted it
and wanted it. I will continue to pray for Ken over the years,
in hopes he will find recovery and the fullness of life he
could never have dreamed of.
While some attended an assembly entitled “Live the
Call,” I humbly found myself—by the grace of God—living
the call. Ken was not the only person blessed through this
experience. I will never forget the 52-year-old man from
Pennsylvania named Ken who changed my life.
Cindy Miller attends Clay Community Church, South Bend,
Ind., and serves as executive office assistant for Mennonite
Mission Network.
did. I arrived in San Jose, California, for a convention early
and explored the area around my hotel. I felt uncomfortable
as I strolled the city and encountered the homeless. My
most awkward feeling, however, was the quandary of
whether to do something or ignore the situation? In the
past, when I experienced fear of something, I needed to
face it, though I had no intention of acting on that thought.
Chinese Food from God
One evening I sat at a Chinese restaurant with three-
fourths of my fried rice left over. For some reason I took the
leftovers with me. On my way back to the hotel a young
man approached me and asked for money for food. I
declined and kept walking. Remembering the leftovers in
my hand, I realized I could have fed him. But the face of a
homeless man who sat by my hotel day-after-day, hour-
after-hour came to mind. I felt God’s gentle nudge to take
my leftovers to him. I argued with God for awhile. As I
approached the corner, I found him sitting on a bench with
three other homeless men. I wondered how I could offer
food to only one man, but God provided a way. Just as I
came around the corner, this man got up and walked
toward me. I offered him my food, made small talk with him
and asked about the lady I had seen delivering sandwiches
to him earlier, wondering if she was a mother or a sister.
“No, that’s Sadie, the cat lady. Everyday she feeds the
stray cats.”
We ended our short conversation, and he insisted on
giving me a hug. I received the hug as graciously as I
could. Returning to my hotel, I struggled with what just
happened. I asked God to relieve my fears, trusting that he
who had brought me to this point would see me through.
Meeting Ken
The next morning I felt convicted to continue the
relationship that had begun the night before. As usual, I
found this man on his bench and handed him his breakfast.
I told him he could expect me sharing each meal with him
until my departure. He said his name was Ken. I asked how
he got this way, and he was open about his alcoholism. As I
left, he thanked me with a hug, but this did not feel as much
of a violation as the first one.
On my way back to my room I wished I had not committed
to three encounters each day. A Mennonite youth ran up
from behind and said, “That was a really nice thing you did
back there.” He said that the night before, his youth group
discussed what to do with their leftover pizza. Though he
tried to persuade them to give it to someone in need, one
youth said, “I don’t want to relate to those kind of people.”
Three meals later, as I returned to my room, Ken saw me
walking by and yelled out my name. I approached him and
found him drunk. With all the respect I had, I told him I could
not talk with him right then. “Ken, can you sober up by
morning so we can talk?”
“For you, honey, I can.”
The Good and the Bad
The next morning I found Ken all alone when I delivered
his breakfast. This helped me relax and talk with him. I
heard his stories of better days—days when he was making
$17 an hour, when he was married, when he had money by
winning a lottery. But there were also unpleasant days he
shared—the day he found his wife with his best friend,
when his divorce was final and he skipped town, heading
for San José, when he graduated from rehab following a six-
month recovery and celebrated by going to the liquor store.
He told stories of 20 years of homelessness, of alcoholic
parents and living in a house full of smokers.
“My mom was a witch, God love her.” Then he said, “I
wake up every morning thanking God for keeping me safe
and for giving me another beautiful day.” My life holds so
many fewer challenges than his, yet I have many days I
wake up falling short of that thankfulness. As I headed back
to my hotel room, I felt blessed for having shared this time
with him.
Bring Ken In
I felt God nudging me to bring Ken into my world. I
needed to get four boxes from my hotel to the convention
site. I asked Ken, who was more than willing to help. He
kept his bike in the good care of a homeless friend, and I
arranged for Ken to meet me at the hotel lobby. He arrived
right on time and to my surprise had a utility cart, borrowed
from his hotel connections. As we headed to the convention
center, I wondered what people might think, perhaps not in
judgment but in curiosity. I enjoyed showing him around the
Mennonite Mission Network exhibit and introducing him to
my friends and co-workers.
Photo of a Friend
As the week wrapped up, I wanted a photo of Ken to add
to my memories of my travels. Ken was more than eager to
pose for a photo at my request, pulling out his prize
possession, his bike. He positioned it just so, backing up to
check the proper angle. A friend shot a couple photos of
us. Ken was excited and asked if he could get copies. In
one hour I had the photos developed and enclosed them in
a greeting card. As I handed him the envelope, he said he
didn’t want to open it until his birthday, Dec. 2. Selfishly I
convinced him to open it right away. He opened the card as
if to be handling a precious piece of glass. He read it with
reflection and gratitude, then looked at the photos. I
wonder how long it had been since he saw himself in a
photo. I suspect years.
Holding the photo of us, Ken said, “What are you doing
hanging out with this drunk?”
I said, “You ought to see the characters I hang out with.”
Later I headed to his usual spot on the park bench, only to
find his friend Jimmie James. I told Jimmie James that if Ken
could entrust him with his bike, I could entrust him to deliver
cards to Ken. I had both a birthday card and a Christmas
card for him. Jimmie James ran off to find Ken. As I waited, I
realized he would probably be drunk, since it was the end
of the day. I grieved that my last conversation with him
would be tainted with intoxication.
Saying Goodbye
Ken arrived in his drunkenness, and I said my
goodbyes. I handed him the two cards, marked “Do not
open until Dec. 2” and “Do not open until Christmas.” In his
thankfulness he hugged me for a long time. I took his hand
and said goodbye.
At first it appeared Ken wanted no more of his life than
he had. In an odd way, he was content. But I helped him
imagine recovery, and for a split second he almost tasted it
and wanted it. I will continue to pray for Ken over the years,
in hopes he will find recovery and the fullness of life he
could never have dreamed of.
While some attended an assembly entitled “Live the
Call,” I humbly found myself—by the grace of God—living
the call. Ken was not the only person blessed through this
experience. I will never forget the 52-year-old man from
Pennsylvania named Ken who changed my life.
Cindy Miller attends Clay Community Church, South Bend,
Ind., and serves as executive office assistant for Mennonite
Mission Network.
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