I see poor people

We've recently moved to a nice metropolitan city with excellent mass transit. We live in the suburbs but now when we feel like it, we can hop on the light rail that takes us to downtown. The downtown has all you would expect in a hopping and hip place. Lots of eateries, cafes, book stores, record stores, hip clothing boutiques, galleries, city parks, and a cool river that people walk and ride their bike a long. And then there's the homeless.

I see them and I don't know what to do. I feel called to do something.

It's not like I haven't seen homeless people before. I've dropped them some change here and there. I've served them in the parish soup kitchen a couple times. But now I have kids so I've kept my distance. But in this city, I'm confronted with them. I walk by them and I feel utterly helpless. There is a St. Vincent de Pauls and some other Christian and secular outreaches down there but still, I can't ignore them.

Saturday we took my mom who was visiting from out of town on the lightrail to the downtown market. There were the usual beggars on the street corners with signs pleading for a job, food or money. But one individual really stuck with me. We were strolling along the river walk and I noticed a young man in his twenties with his head down on a wooden post of the metal barrier to the river. We were close to the draw bridge and I wondered if he was going to hop over and jump off it. I stared at him and his misery and started mumbling the Divine Mercy prayer under my breath. I kept singing to myself;

Eternal Father, I offer you the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity or your dearly beloved son, our Lord Jesus Christ, in atonement for our sins and those of the whole world.

I chanted it and looked back over at him. He lifted his head up looking out. Then he started walking toward us. I watched him as he looked me in the eye. Perhaps my expression was a look of pity. His gaze was locked on me and I stared back and kept chanting the prayer under my breath. The look on his face said,

"Help me."

Then he walked past us and continued onward. My eyes followed him still singing and praying in my mind that he wouldn't jump off the bridge.

I don't know his story. I just know he was lost and in total despair. I'm praying he finds God. I'm praying I can be Jesus to these poor souls even if it's for a moment.

I contemplate what I should do when we go downtown. I wonder if I should just have some change handy. Or maybe some holy cards with change in them. Maybe tuck some brown scapulars in them as well.

I open to suggestions.