I started the mental maths of working the ages of each person that had died and felt the discomfort of each life, but one, younger than meThe words of the carol hung in the air as the list went on. A respectful silence met each name, a name of someone from the street homeless community who had died this year. What made singing Silent Night followed by the roll of honour so poignant was that this carol service was for a community who knew these people and understood the fragility of life that the street brings.
1962 ... 1975 ... 1965 ... 1980 ... 1967 ... I started the mental maths of working the ages of each person that had died and felt the discomfort of each life, but one, younger than me. 1965 ...1982 ... 1970 ... 1972, something inside me felt intensely sad that the street had take its toll on these men and women who by and large were anonymous in their lives and certainly anonymous in their death. Or were they? I looked around the room and felt the corporate sadness.
The list finished, respect was payed and the moment was gone as the 30-40 people who had gathered for the Faith House Carol service moved on in their way to celebrate Christmas together with a special festive love.