The Art of Work: A Proven Path to Discovering What You Were Meant to Do

shouts and raucous hollering often echoing through the
concrete walls of the mission.
What was Ed doing there?
Sometimes men would approach him and try to give him
a high-five or some kind of handshake. Ed would have none
of that; he always returned such gestures with an awkward
smile and polite nod, followed by a pat on the shoulder. I
never knew why he did this but suspected it was because he
couldn’t relate and maybe because he wanted more for
those men than their loud greetings and macho handshakes.
“Thanks, son,” he would say, often squeezing their arms
and then moving on.
Sometimes they would retort sarcastically, “I’m not your
son!” But often, I would see the men’s gazes soften as they
stared into Ed’s warm eyes. I wondered if anyone had ever
called them that before. Later he told me that for some, he
was the only father they ever knew.
Ed ended up at the mission, and had been working there
for nearly fifteen years, not because he had a passion for the
poor or because he had any particular burden for the
homeless. In fact, he told me this was the last place he ever
thought he’d end up. But he had a friend on the board who
invited him to visit the mission one day. After touring the
facilities, Ed was asked if he would consider becoming a
chaplain at the mission. After some hesitation, he relented,
agreeing to work there a few days a week, counseling and
praying with men who were struggling to escape their
situations.