Acts of Kindness: Serving Pancakes and Finding Purpose After Homelessness

Acts of Kindness: Serving Pancakes and Finding Purpose After Homelessness

First off, let me apologize for the duplicate post that went up earlier. I don’t own a computer at the moment, so I do everything on my phone unless I’m lucky enough to snag a library Chromebook for a little while. Phones are amazing tools, but they’re not always stable—especially when trying to manage a blog. Something glitched, and the result was a double post. I’ve since corrected the issue and deleted the duplicate. Thanks for bearing with me.

Technology hiccups aside, this past Saturday was a moment that reminded me how far grace has carried me.

My church held a men’s breakfast. Nothing fancy—just fellowship over hot coffee and warm food—but I was asked to help with the setup. And honestly? I didn’t mind at all. The people in this church have accepted me with open arms. Not the polished, got-it-all-together version of me—no, they’ve embraced the real me, the one with a past and a testimony. Flaws, scars, and all.

So when someone asks me to pitch in, and I’ve got the time and energy, I say yes. Gladly.

I ended up behind the griddle, flipping pancakes for more than 40 men. That may sound like a small thing, but for me, it was an act of service—my way of loving others, of reflecting just a glimpse of Christ’s love to those around me. That love doesn’t always have to come in the form of preaching or quoting Scripture. Sometimes, it looks like pancakes and early mornings.

We're told to love one another. Sometimes that love looks like offering a hot meal. Other times, it means carrying Narcan and a first aid kit in your backpack, just in case someone on the street needs help. I’ve had to use both. That’s real life out here in Ottawa. And when I see someone stumbling, lost, or in danger of hurting themselves or others, I step in. Not because I’m anyone special—but because someone has to. And because I’ve been on the receiving end of that kind of grace before.

Not long ago, someone who barely knew me invited me to lunch with his family. It wasn’t about money. It wasn’t charity. It was kindness. That moment stuck with me. It reminded me how powerful simple acts can be. That lunch fed something deeper in me than just hunger. So now, I try to offer that same kindness in whatever ways I can.

One of the personal boundaries I’ve set in my life is rooted in 1 Thessalonians 5:22 — “Abstain from all appearance of evil.” For me, this means I choose not to be alone with a woman or child who isn’t my own. Some might see that as extreme, but for someone like me—someone rebuilding a life with intentional integrity—accountability matters. In today’s world, perception is powerful. This boundary isn’t about fear; it’s about wisdom. It protects others as much as it protects me.

It’s not a wall—it’s a safeguard. A way of honouring the path I’m on now, one step at a time.

So, pancakes and all, this weekend was a good reminder: serving others, even in the smallest ways, is never wasted. And no matter where you’ve come from, you can still choose to love well, live humbly, and walk in light.

Bible verse reflection:

“Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.”
— Matthew 5:16 (NKJV)

This verse doesn’t say preach your light. It says let it shine. Through service. Through kindness. Through showing up and being present. That’s what I’m learning, one day at a time. Whether it’s flipping pancakes, handing out a pair of dry socks, or simply offering a word of encouragement to someone who looks like they’ve run out of hope—these small lights matter. And they point not to me, but to the One who’s lit my path when all I could see was darkness.