Homelessness

Yesterday I met a man who has been on my mind a lot ever since. The day started with me trying to save gas and delay spending money I don't really have so I planned to take the bus to work. But the bus passed by with a Not In Service sign on it. Not knowing when the next one was going to come I wasn't sure if I'd make it to work in time. So I ran the 5+ miles to work. Even though it was a cool morning, this wasn't actually a great idea given the health issues I've been having. The year is almost over and I've only ran a handful of times. My stamina isn't what it used to be. So after a couple miles, about halfway through, I stopped at a red light. I felt more fatigue then usual and was also sweaty and nauseous. Yet I needed to get to work on time so I had to keep running. I made it to work and refilled my water bottle a few times to stay hydrated. When I finished my short shift I went to catch the bus. It passed by as I was walking to the stop. On the weekends most bus routes don't run as frequently. By this time it was already 90 degrees. The bus stop didn't have shade so the bench was too hot to sit on. The full sun was beating down and me. This is something my doctor told me to avoid before my health insurance ended, so I decided to walk and catch the bus stop. I walked a mile to the next big intersection. When I turned the corner I was too tired to keep walking and decided to sit. This one was covered and in the shade. At times there was a slight breeze. I don't mind exercising…I don't mind sitting and waiting for things…but I don't like heat. I detest it really. I like cold climates! I was wishing I had more money to make my life easier, reflecting on injustice and the isolation I feel. It turned out that an hour and a half passed before the bus arrived to take me home. A few times I considered getting up to walk home, but I still felt sick and each time decided to wait. 

I got there and was thinking back over my life. I struggle a lot. Every day I have times I feel alone. I often feel judged by people and continue being mistreated by others at times. Sometimes it's hard to find things to be thankful for. There is a lot of stress trying to provide for my kids when I don't have enough money and my attempts to ask for help are brushed aside. Many people assume that the government helps people like me. Yet 46.5 million people live below the poverty level. The agencies that are supposed to don't help everyone. It is tiring and frustrating to have to fight them and prove that I'm one of those who needs help. When I finally do win it is often not enough. The unending injustice and suffering is so oppressive the weight seems to crush the person.

I'd only been at the bus stop a few minutes when I saw an elderly man with a baseball cap pushing a grocery cart through the intersection. (There was nothing in the grocery cart.) He walked to the bus stop, sat down and asked me the time. I immediately sensed he was homeless. He had long hair and a long beard, clothes caked with many days of stains and torn sandals. His hands and feet were cracked and caked with dirt. On his left arm he had frayed bandages wrapped from his wrist to elbow. He smelled of urine and alcohol. I thought of the biblical custom of hosts washing their visitors feet, specifically the woman washing Jesus's feet with her hair and her tears. Those around them chastised her, but she was still precious to God. Many people judge homeless people. Or don't like the uncomfortable feeling they have when meeting one. During the time I sat there I talked with the homeless man. We didn't talk about anything substantial. In the lapses of silence I thought of the stereotypes of homeless people. Addicts, gamblers, veterans, etc. I had my own idea of homeless people, not considering I was one until the last few weeks the children and I were in the domestic violence shelter. We were asked to fill out a survey on homelessness and our experience. It was then I realized that choosing to flee the home to a safer environment meant that I was homeless. Bouncing around to other people's homes until getting the apartment was a stressful and humbling experience. You are at the mercy of others and their tolerance for your struggles can end at any moment. While I experienced living in a shelter with people facing similar experiences, I learned that we are still all different. Everyone has a story. We are all unique. 

I wondered what this man's story was. I heard a few pieces while we sat there. It is possible he has made unwise decisions, but haven't we all? Every one of us has moments we're not proud of. Moments we wish we could take back. Many of us have opportunities to change the direction of our lives without too much upheaval. Even when we have to experience the turmoil, we still have luxuries the homeless man doesn't have. What stresses, fears and temptations press in on him? It is entirely possible that he hadn't been drinking. I know that certain medical conditions can make a person smell like they've been drinking. He often kept repeating the same questions to me. I didn't feel comfortable asking him what was causing him to forget our conversation. Maybe he has alzheimers or a brain injury or other medical condition causing confusion and memory loss. Maybe it does stem from drinking a lot. Or his confusion could stem from plan old dehydration. I got water for him from taco bell. Yet a few minutes later he seems surprised and confused as to where it came from. My heart went out to him. He appeared alone. just wandering to find shady spots during the day to stay out of the direct sun. 

After an hour and 15 minutes of sitting there I boarded the bus and said bye to him. Yet the whole day he was in my thoughts. In my short time of running to work, walking to the bus stop and sitting there I developed symptoms of heat exhaustion. I spent the rest of the day trying to rehydrate - drinking water, laying on the couch with an ice pack on my forehead, neck, armpits and knee joints. How can homeless people survive day after day in the desert heat? I wished I had money to help get some food for him. I considered taking something to him in my car after I got home. I have many stresses every day as I fight to provide for the kids on my minimal income. Yet I have been thankful for my house every day since we moved in. I know that I can find some ways to help others, despite my limited blessings. We often are so focused on our own lives that we don't care for others when we have the means and opportunity to do so. Our families are definitely an important priority. Yet I seem to observe others (and myself at times) acting like our family is the ONLY priority. From what I know of God, he wants us to help others, so this single-minded focus must grieve him. After all, is not the Christian mindset one of believing we are all homeless? This isn't our final destination. We are here for a little while. While here God wants us to honor him with our thoughts and actions. Part of this is in the way we relate to others. This means seeking to see others the way God sees them - with eyes filled with compassion, hearts filled with love and hands ready to get to work helping share their suffering.

I hope that this homeless man is able to receive the help he needs, either from individuals, groups or churches. I drive by that bus stop a lot. If I happen to see him there I plan to stop and chat with him again. I intend to keep my eye out for people that are needing some help, encouragement or maybe just a friend.

ETA - While the custom of foot washing isn't a common practice here, we can mimic the intent behind it when we compassionately listen and speak with people that may appear unlovable. I suspect there are many times this man has felt judgemental stares or harsh criticism from others. Probably people have moved due to feeling uncomfortable by him. I hope that he felt something different from me.  I still think about this man often, though I haven't seen him again.