How do people feel good about themselves when they feed the poor during the day and then go home at night to a comfy bed while the poor they've fed sleep out in the cold or in a crowded shelter?
I don't ask this question in judgment. I don't even feed the poor, but if I did, if I saw their faces and knew their names. If they told me their stories as we shared a meal. How could I leave them? How could I but invite them home with me?