Thursday, February 25, 2010

A homeless man offered me help today. The irony does not escape me.

I was at the west entrance of Nordstrom, locking (or trying to anyway) my bike to a post. I was nicely dressed in khakis and my winter coat, and I had just my purse with me. (I had an interview, so I was toting around all the stuff that is normally in my backpack in my mid-sized purse). The purse wasn't in my way, but maybe it looked like it was, or maybe it just looked like I couldn't get the lock on right. Anyway, while I was in the process of locking up so I could go into Nordstrom, a man who would probably be escorted out of Nordstrom, or at least watched like a hawk, approached me, with his sleeping bag in its carrying case, and a small tote, and asked if I needed help. This was surprising to me, because I didn't feel like I was having trouble; I fight with my lock on a daily basis. I politely declined with a smile, and the man went on his way. As he walked away, I thought of the ten dollars that I had in my wallet, then about the food court in the mall, and wondering when this man's last meal was. I watched his retreating back for a moment before remembering that I was in a hurry, and that I needed to get going. So I went on my way as well.

Now, I'm thinking back to the man I met briefly today. I don't know his name. I don't know what his story is. I can only assume that he has a place to sleep tonight, and that he has somehow managed to get a meal. I guess I realize now that God was calling out to me, because shortly before this occurrence, I rode past a man from my school who is part of IVCF, and he was carrying around a bag full of peanut butter sandwiches and juice boxes, handing them out to people who looked like they were homeless. As I found out at Summit, they don't always look it. There was a lady I met who buried all of her stuff every day so it wouldn't get stolen, but every time I saw her, she was impeccably dressed, hair done nicely, and she biked everywhere. In fact, I confess I was wondering why she was at Saint Leo's for food. I thought maybe she was just having a hard time and needed the money she would spend on food for other bills. I was sure she had an apartment, or some sort of permanent living situation. When God called to me and told me to invite her to the dinner that the Summit kids were hosting at our temporary house, I found out that she actually lived in a tent, and needed to be back at her tent before dark so her stuff wouldn't be stolen. I was amazed, and I learned that the face of homelessness doesn't always have to be a dirty one.

In hindsight, I wonder if I should have let that man help me with the lock. Even though I got it fine by myself a second after I said no, maybe helping someone would have given him some pride, some feeling of self-worth. And if I had let him help me, maybe that would have led into a conversation about whether I could get him something to eat?

My heart breaks for these people. I feel it must be my life's work to help them, by opening a shelter. And here is the irony: the exact type of person that I should be helping is offering me help.

So, the lesson, I guess, would be to stop next time. Listen. Allow the person to help, even if I think I don't need it. Maybe the offering of help is for something else. Maybe it isn't that I needed help with the bicycle lock, but I needed help coming to this realization. Maybe this person offering to help me, was unknowingly offering me a chance to help him.

Courageous. The word of the evening for the homeless demographic. I could have met him with a disdainful gaze for all he knew, because he was carrying his life's possessions in a sack on his back.