Home: A place where something flourishes, is most typically found, or from which it originates.
Something that has been itching at my heart recently is homelessness. I am very fortunate at this moment in my life to be surrounded by many different homes. There is my parent's home. There is Upper Gwinn. There is Schladming. There is Nielsen's. There is The Nest. These are the places that I am filled up, that I can be myself and that I go to and from. To not have a place to call home is heartbreaking. Even more bluntly, to not have a roof over your head is just plain cold. In this rainy city alone, there are over 6000 homeless people. That means that every day, there are 6000 people walking around Seattle, unsure of themselves and unsure of what to do.
There are the skeptics who say that these people need to learn to be self sufficient. There are those who say that they will use my money to buy drugs and ruin their lives. But here is the reality: RIGHT NOW, THEY ARE HUNGRY AND THEY ARE COLD. When I walk down the street and I'm afraid to make eye contact with a beggar, what does that say about me? It makes me feel selfish. But my heart is rapidly changing. Just a couple of weeks ago, here is what happened to me:
I am walking to the bus after work and I have a bag full of leftover french rolls in my backpack. When I see a man standing on the corner asking for money and I watch dozens of people speed by him, my heart breaks. It's raining and this man is hungry and every person who walks by him says they have nothing to give him. That's not true. Surely you, with the shoes in your Nordstrom bag, surely you have something to give. Or you, man with a briefcase that no doubt has a laptop in it, you must have something to give.
But not me. No, I'm in college, I have nothing to give. STOP IT. I don't have loans, I have two jobs, I own a computer and a cell phone and a violin. I can go to concerts and see musicals whenever I want to. If my shoes get a hole in them, I can buy a new pair that fits. I have so much. So what is it that stops me from giving to this man? It has been the constant stream of "advice" from society that tells me this man deserves to be standing on this street corner. No he doesn't--nobody does.
I'm ashamed to say that I too speed by this man. And then all of those thoughts I just shared with you speed through my head. I CAN give to this man. He doesn't deserve to be on the streets right now, but he is. He didn't do anything wrong, but he is treated like he has. And he is hungry. I turn around and I look him in the eyes--he has beautiful eyes--and they light up. "I just got off work," I tell him, "and I have a bunch of leftover rolls. Would you like some?" I pull out the bag of rolls and it was as though he was looking at gold. I open the bag and he looks at me with a questioning glance. "Go ahead," I tell him as I push the bag toward him. He plunges his hand into the bag and takes one. "You can have more than that," I tell him and he takes another. "These will go nicely with dinner once I get some," he says.
What faith. He knows that dinner will come. He doesn't know how or who from, but he somehow knows he will eat. Perhaps it was these rolls that gave him hope or maybe he met someone earlier who gave him hope. The point is, it didn't take much. Two french rolls...though free for me, they normally only cost thirty-five cents. Who doesn't have that? Please, I beg you, GIVE. It doesn't take much. No, it barely takes anything. In this country where living "in poverty" is having a salary below $12,000, I know you can spare thirty-five cents for a roll or twenty cents for a banana. Stop getting bogged down with the details of the history of the person standing in front of you. Look them in the eyes and see that they are a person, just like you, and they are hungry. Go. Feed them.