I remember exactly how I felt when the boss at my internship told me that he had no full-time job for me. I'd been interning downtown for this think-tank for 4 months, and my boss finally delivered the verdict on my further employment there. Working there had been very enjoyable and it was devastating for me to receive this news.
At lunchtime, I took a walk around the loop and spent an hour talking to a woman on the street corner. I had just heard a message at church about the book When Helping Hurts and I decided to put its teachings into practice. I sat down on the sidewalk with her and asked her to tell me her story. She had been forced into selling drugs to provide for her family and was left on the streets alone and destitute, but she always had a smile on her face. She told me not to refer to people on the street as "homeless people." Instead she said to call them "unfortunate people." Her attitude and demeanor put me to shame. I have complained about so many less significant problems in my life, while she was smiling despite the circumstance.
As we talked, she was beading cross necklaces. She was a very resourceful and thrifty homeless person, so I decided to offer her a deal. I would give her a harmonica in exchange for a necklace. She accepted and I went home and gathered a bunch of things from my room and put them in my backpack, intending to give them to her.
The next day I went back to work and turned in my badge and my PC. That evening there was a big party and I had the chance to say goodbye to my friends and network with business-people in hopes of finding a new job. I had a few hours to kill, so I went searching for my friend from the previous day. She was nowhere to be found, so I set off with my backpack and wandered the streets of the city.
First, I talked to a couple from Iowa who had both lost their jobs within the same week. I told them I was able to empathize with them because I'd just lost my job. I gave them a pair of old sunglasses and I name-tag holder so they could better introduce themselves to people. Then, I bought lunch at the Corner Bakery for a homeless veteran who was afraid to tell his girlfriend he was out of a job. I gave him a packet of chapsticks and a cross made out of wood. He said that it meant a lot to him because his last name was Woodhouse and he'd been looking for a wooden cross for quite sometime.
As I continued onward, I met a man selling books of poetry. I told him I couldn't buy his poetry, but instead I gave him a blank journal to write poetry in. I met a guitarist playing on the corner and I gave him a guitar pick that said "Pick Jesus." Finally, I saw a high school student on another corner with his head in his hands. He told me he'd been stranded in the city for 2 days and just needed a train ticket to get home. I just happened to have two Ventra cards for some reason and one had $5.15 on it: the exact amount that he needed. I told him it was a gift from Jesus, and he thanked me through the tears.
That evening, I went to the party and gave out and received many business cards. It was a good end to a bittersweet day. As I reflected upon my day on the train ride home, I noticed several things. The fact that I told everyone I had lost my job made me relatable to everyone. It broke down the walls created by my nice clothes and rich appearance. Everyone I talked to got something that they needed from my backpack, but nobody received any money.
The people that I talked to all got something they needed even more: friendship. I sat down at their level and asked to hear their stories and shared mine with them. And this is what the homeless need more than money and a place to sleep. They are materially poor, but many are also relationally poor. They are the unfortunate ones: the people of the street. Next time you see them, sit down at their level and listen to their stories. They could use a friend.
No comments:
Post a Comment