They come from all sorts of backgrounds—Caucasian, Hispanic, African American descent—you get the idea. The little ones had dreams just like any other kid would. The older ones have a lost hope that anything good can come from their situation. These are the citizens of the streets of Los Angeles. They are humans, built like us, look like us, and live in the same area as us. The difference? They were born into a different life. While a majority of us were born into a home, with parents who love and sacrifice what they can for us, who send us to excellent universities and made sure we participated in whichever sport our hearts desired as a kid. For me, I did gymnastics for twelve years. Twelve years of paying money for leotards, competition entry fees, and gas to get where I needed to go. Along with gymnastics, I was also privileged to have spent a majority of my childhood in a country I consider my home: Romania. I have been able to travel the world and see magnificent sights one would only see in a book or on television. These children? They weren’t born into the similar life I have. Their parents can not afford to send them to Europe to spend time with their family there, or go to a private school for eight years, or do gymnastics for over a decade. No, they don’t have what I do speaking in terms of materialism.. But they have a hope. They have love deeper than any ocean in existence could share. They have a God who loves them fiercely and passionately. A God who desires for them to look to Him and trust He knows what is best for them and the live they are living. And so our lives intersected. We crossed paths on the day of October 6th, 2016. I have witnessed a need desperate for our attention, and something we could change if we did our parts. We don’t have to spend thousands of dollars to go on a missions trip to Africa. Please don’t misunderstand me either. Going to Africa on a missions trip is a wonderful thing to do if God has called you for it.. But there is a need to share the gospel and message of Christ in our own neighborhood, in our own cities, in our own neighborhoods. It doesn’t have to be publicized. No, these people don’t seek attention. The people I met at the Fred Jordan Mission simply needed to know someone was there for them.. That someone loved them, even if for a short time. They search for meaning, for purpose, for acceptance, but what some of them do not see what they need is in front of them—the love of God. I could only let God use me so much that day to be there for those kids. I am only a vessel which can hold so much. The people of Fred Jordan Mission have shown me how different life can be if God was or was not in the overall picture of my life, and for that, I know my life is dependent on my faith and strength rooted in Christ.