Bread Of Life Outreach

It’s 5.30am on a dark Sunday morning and the sun hasn’t even begun to make an appearance; the only light comes from an upstairs bathroom window, but the moon is bright.

We have to brave the icy cold to run to the car at six o’clock, ready for the forty-five minute journey to St Thomas’ Precinct, Exeter.

Every two weeks, Dad and I join a charity called Bread of Life, run by a friend from St Andrew’s, for their Sunday morning outreach to the homeless community in Exeter.

We’re first to arrive, so we drive to the Tesco Express further up the road, and Dad collects ‘Foodshare’ – three plastic sacks of surplus (otherwise thrown out) pastries and bread, ready to give away on our street patrol.

The rest of the team arrive about twenty minutes later, and finally we have a team of between five and ten people (it varies each week).

The car from Cullompton carries huge flasks of tea and coffee, about a hundred hot dogs, and ready made goody bags for men, women and dogs. These contain socks, water, chocolate, tissues and handy-wipes, as well as condiments for hot dogs.

After sorting the various team members into the two cars, everyone meets in the car park behind Wetherspoons on Fore Street – Buffet City.

The whole collection of willing volunteers splits into two groups – one for the ‘Outskirts’ and one for the ‘Inner City’ route. Two camping trolleys are piled high with goody bags, flasks of drink, disposable cups, hot dogs, a sack of Tesco-donated pastries and a couple of sleeping bags, if needed.

Only the Inner City team require trolleys – they are on foot, whereas the Outskirts drive the perimeter of the city because there are larger gaps between people who need serving.

With provisions dished out, both teams gather to pray before heading their separate ways.

I have only been part of the Inner City team, which heads up Fore Street, normally finding at least a couple of homeless either sleeping in a doorway or already up and drinking or begging.

Most weeks, a tall, older man accompanies us on our route right from the start. With dirty grey hair to his shoulders, I have only ever seen him wearing a massive, green-turned-blackish coat with bulging pockets and a pair of brown joggers worn black at the knee, though they may not have always been that colour. With a very deep, growling voice and slow, deliberate conversation, he is always friendly and consistently addresses me as “young lady” when asking for food or drink. Since finding out that Dad is a youth pastor, he is addressed as “reverend” (which, of course, enormously pleases him).

More often than not, we receive a very cheerful (though sometimes slightly intoxicated) welcome and food and drink are much appreciated, as well as a chat or listening ears. We always ask to pray for an individual before we leave, and this offer is widely received and very appreciated.

The beautiful thing about always being on the same team, and walking the same route every week, is that friendship is built, and it’s gratifying to know that we make a difference to people who need us and the support we bring.

We are never in a rush or hurry and always stay as long as we are needed with a person, or group, as friends often stay together to keep safe and warmer than they would be alone.

This was most noticeable one particular week when we spent about half an hour with a thirty year old man, whom addiction had controlled for twenty years. At first, I hung back, unsure, as I had never met him before, but as he told us his story of imprisonment, multiple offences, and the recent loss of his best friend, my heart broke.

If there is one thing to dissolve my reserve, it is tears.

What does it take to reduce a man to sobbing in front of strangers? More than I could ever understand, for sure.

But still, all fear died in that moment, and I stepped forward to tell this man how much he is loved, how much addiction does not define him, and how there is a way out.

Now I understand how perfectly true it is that unreserved love drives out fear, even the most stupid-sounding ones.

At about 9.30 am, both teams gather on the Cathedral Green, where a crowd of homeless are normally gathered, awaiting sustenance and attention.

On multiple occasions, we have met under-twenties who, on being abandoned to the authorities by their parents at a very young age, were adopted.

One such boy had been adopted along with two other kids by a well off couple – a lawyer and a doctor. As this boy reached teenage years, he became rebellious and did things his parents frowned upon. He was rejected – the only one from his adopted siblings to be returned to the foster home. The pain of being abandoned and never good enough lived on like lead in his stomach, making him believe he could never be loved. As well as this, his dog (incidentally my favourite breed) had recently been seized by the RSPCA because he lived in a no-pets flat, and he felt alone with the loss of his “best friend”, in his own words.

Sometimes the situations we’re presented with seem impossible to ever change, but, really, changing situations is the least important thing when all we are told to do is love.

But the best thing about this whole experience is the chance I get to spend time with people who I wouldn’t naturally, and to uncover beautiful personalities that I am privileged to love.