Dee was waiting for us last night. Many of you’ve met him across the years. This picture from a year or so ago shows him well and healthy.

He’s been fighting prostate cancer. He got out of the hospital yesterday and looked like death warmed over – hospital band still on his wrist – struggling to stand, he said “Eric, I think they’re trying to kill me.”

It would take a lot. In our nearly 3 decades of Sunday night friendship – that’s spread to Jackets for Jesus burying his wife, Debi offering to bring him home when he was sick on the streets, loss of parking lots to sleep in… Dee always seems to find a way through the darkness. Last night he told me “Don’t know if I’m going to make it.”

Hundreds waiting, still, we spent a couple of minutes together – me just listening. He said the hospital treated him beautifully, the doctors just won’t set a date on surgery they said he needed a year ago. Resting his hand on my shoulder he said what I’ve heard many aging sick people say “Think they’re just hoping I’ll die.”

Ran over to tip off Jodi, who with only 3 workers and the multitudes waiting had no time for interruptions. Simply said “Keep an eye on Dee. Help him out”

Somehow, managing a bright smile, she said “I always do.” She does. Lovingly each week spoiling him with a special meal – no line to wait in – as our long time friend. But I wanted her – for her sake – to be prepared. Stopping her completely, I said “He’s bad. Really bad. His cancers back.”

As if there wasn’t another person on the streets it registered on her face. “I’ll take care of him.”

I walked into the crowd. The insane knife fight happened. People waited as long as an hour for a meal as we served them.

I forgot about Dee.

Never asked Jodi about him on the ride home. But there was a weight on my heart this morning… when it hit me “Dee.”

Unlike so many, he’s refused to enter social media and free cell phones. He works lugging boxes by day, paid under the table, and sleeps in the back of businesses looking for cheap security by night. Everyone trusts Dee. I have no way to reach him. Breaks my heart that he’s fighting cancer alone, in urban poverty. After last night I wonder if I’ll see him alive again.

Years ago I gave him all my contact info to carry on his person as someone to call in case something happens. He has family. But I don’t remember where. Realized we needed to update everything. Realized I can’t imagine my life without Dee.

He’s not alone. Nearly 70 now, he’s one of millions of seniors across America facing end of life issues with almost no one to turn to.

So many of you have shared an evening, a meal, a backpack… Some have shared the funeral of his wife one family even gave him a van to live in.

Will you share your heart with him again in prayer? I fully understand he’s just one out of so many – but he’s one we know. Will you join me today in praying for Dee?

I don’t begin to presume to know all of God’s plans but I’m quite certain they never include us abandoning a brother or sister to die alone in an alley of cancer. At the very least, we can pray, hopefully by next Sunday night God will provide an opportunity for us to do more to help a friend.

Thanks