Pathways2Destination began with a bus ticket.

Sunday, I met Dewayne.

It was his first time visiting us for a meal.

Toward the end of the day, I noticed two people standing off to the side of the building, hugging. They had been there for what seemed like 20 minutes, so I finally walked over and spoke to the person I knew.

They broke their embrace.

And there stood Dewayne, visibly crying.

That was when I learned his story.

Dewayne had left an abusive relationship. His ex had taken his wallet, so he was left without identification. And when you don’t have an ID, something as simple as getting a bus ticket can suddenly become another mountain to climb.

He had been riding with a “friend” who was supposed to take him back home to Tennessee. While passing through Indianapolis, that friend took off and left him stranded in a city he didn’t know.

Then came another heartbreak.

A dear friend who had fed Dewayne’s family during some very hard times had passed away.

He desperately wanted to get home for the funeral.

Home.

Back to his family.

Back to the people who loved him.

Back to his mother, whose health isn’t the best.

Back to the place where he belonged.

But Dewayne had already been stuck in Indianapolis for 16 days.

Sixteen days of phone calls.

Sixteen days of trying to find someone, somewhere, somehow, who could help him get home.

And call after call led nowhere.

The hardest part?

There are very few programs designed for someone in Dewayne’s exact situation.

The person who died wasn’t a close blood relative — even though blood doesn’t define family or love for many of us.

And Dewayne had already escaped the abusive relationship and was technically considered “safe.”

So the programs that might have helped someone else couldn’t help him.

He had fallen through the cracks.

Not because he didn’t need help.

But because his circumstances didn’t fit neatly into the boxes used to decide who qualifies.

I searched and searched Sunday for a way to get him home.

And somewhere in the middle of all of this, Dewayne shared something with me that I won’t forget.

His favorite meal?

Pinto beans. Fried potatoes. Cornbread.

Simple food.

The kind of meal that can fill a table without costing much.

And as he talked about his family, it became clear that they know struggle. They’ve lived it.

Yet here was this man, after everything he’d been through, still grateful for a plate of food and a little kindness.

That stayed with me.

Because when the programs can’t — or won’t — help, sometimes the help comes from people who don’t have much themselves.

People who are willing to share what little they have.

People who will sacrifice something they need in order to help another human being get what they desperately need.

And then pray that God will provide for the shortfall we created by helping someone else.

So that’s what I did.

I helped Dewayne get home.

That Monday evening at 8:10 PM, my friend boarded a bus headed for Tennessee.

Home.

Back to his family.

Back to love.

Back to his mother.

Back to the people waiting for him.

He got home at 9 PM the next night — a little behind schedule, but safe.

And along the way, he sent me pictures and updates from the bus.

Every single one made me smile.

Because Sunday, I had seen a man standing on the side of a building with tears running down his face.

A man who had been abandoned.

A man who had spent 16 days stranded in a city he didn’t know.

A man who had lost someone he loved and was desperate to get home to say goodbye.

A man who didn’t even have an ID.

And that Monday night, I watched that same man board a bus headed home.

Sometimes victory doesn’t look like a miracle.

Sometimes it looks like a bus ticket.

Sometimes it looks like a plate of pinto beans, fried potatoes and cornbread.

Sometimes it looks like strangers becoming friends.

Sometimes it looks like someone saying, “I don’t have much, but I can’t leave you here.”

Sometimes it looks like people giving from their own shortage and trusting God to fill the gap.

And sometimes…

sometimes victory is simply getting someone home.

Dewayne, my friend…

You made it home.

I am so incredibly grateful that I got to be a small part of helping you get there.

Sometimes the only thing standing between a person and a safe place, a family member, a job, or a fresh start is a way to get there. That’s why Pathways2Destination exists.