A frail man lay at the side of a building, guarding his few worldly possessions. He was wrapped in a thin blanket that poorly covered his small frame. The man looked about sixty years old, but was only forty. His face was aged, not by time, but by hardship.

The man's name was Jim, and he had not always lived this way. Jim once had a good job working in an office, and a rented apartment. He had just moved to the city on account of a building transfer. But Jim fell sick and could not come to work for months. The hospital bills nearly emptied out his savings. When he was well enough to go back to work, Jim found that he had been fired. He reasoned with the manager, but to no avail. Jim was left with no job and bills to pay. Over the next month, he was unsuccessful in finding work. He was soon evicted from his building with no place to go.

Jim started out living in homeless shelters. But the few valuables he had brought from his modest apartment life were soon stolen. He searched for a new place to live. Jim's home became the streets, and there were many problems. When he could, Jim ate at soup kitchens. Other than that, he was left begging for money. Not many contributed, afraid it would be used for drugs and alcohol. But Jim did not smoke or drink. His simple pleasures were food in his stomach and a warm place to sleep. Here and there a kind soul took him to a café and bought him some food. And during the winter holidays, the homeless drives brought clothes and canned goods.

Jim was more fortunate than many other homeless were. But still whenever he slept, his dreams were filled with hopes of someday finding a home.