An interesting thing happened to me yesterday which I felt immediately the need to write down, but had no time last night. I hope it is still fresh in my mind.
Walking out the doors of my office, I happened upon a man standing by the elevators in the parking garage.
"Hey, Boss," he said.
"Hello," I replied, hesitantly. I'm not an observant person, at least not visually, but I noticed two things at first. One, he looked quite tired, maybe a little dirty - and secondly he was very tall, maybe 6 foot 4.
"Are you from this city?"
"Yeah, sort of."
"I need some help. I'm not a bum, I can tell you that right now. Did you hear about that hit and run that happened 2 days ago?" He didn't let me answer, he just kept on talking. Really fast, almost like he couldn't stop to take a breath, or he might collapse on the spot. "Well, that was my son, and I'm from Kincardine, and so I came down to the hospital, and I haven't slept in about 2 days now, I just came from the hospital, and now I need to get back to my car, but as you can see--" he holds up a cell phone "--the batteries are in my phone are dead, and I've got 9 dollars to my name, like a five dollar bill--" he deftly pulls a folded up bill from his jacket pocket "--and two toonies, that's it, and I've been to every major establishment in this city and no one will listen to me, and I need some money for gas, that's all."
A million thoughts were pouring through my head at this point, and it didn't help that he was talking so fast. Wow, that really sucks about his son. Yeah he does have a phone, and what bum has a cell phone? Looks like he hasn't slept in a lifetime actually, just look at those sunken eyes, and pale skin. Talks so fast, too. Do I even have any cash on me?
"Um I dunno man, I don't even have my wallet with me today," I manage, which was true, I had left it at home.
"Uh, okay."
Silence. This moment lasted for a long time. I looked at the ground intensely, and the severity of the moment hit me. I can't really explain it - I guess I was in disbelief about the whole scene, like is this really happening?
"Well good luck to you," I say with the best sincerity I can muster. As I walk away I look back at the man who has hit me hard with pain and wonderment and confusion.
As I walked the rest of the way home several thoughts came to mind. Was he telling the truth? This is a possibility, however unlikely you may think, it's still possible. I'm sure homeless people come up with all sorts of stories about their lives for whatever end, be it money, or attention, or just plain too many drugs. So he could've made it up.
Why have I been trained to think of bums as things to be ignored? I was always told as a kid not to give money to homeless... my parents reasoning being that they just use it for drugs or alcohol or whatever their addiction may be. When traveling in Toronto or New York, Dad always said try not to make eye contact with "strange" people, they may take offense to it. It's true, I've been yelled at and threatened by weirdos on the streets of both those cities from time to time, even by people I haven't made eye contact with. Which reminds me of the "How's it going, you f***ing jerk?" story... I may tell that one later... and that was in front of my house here in Kitchener. Talk about weird... and scary. I think that's part of it. I'm scared for my own well being. It's human instinct to be afraid of something we don't know. And for good reason. Some weirdos are dangerous, and will take advantage of unwary prey. I think that's the reason behind the warnings I received as a child. Protective parents. It's only natural.
However I've been conditioned, now is the time to break away. I feel the need to become something else - something other than just scared and bewildered. If I went back to the guy outside my office now, what would I say? Would I be courageous and ask him to tell me where he got that cell phone? To show me his car? Could I maybe tell him the police station is just down the street, maybe they could help him with his son? Or would I be more compassionate, and get him to tell me more of his story? Maybe give him some of my time, since I don't have any money. Maybe give him some humanity, since he seems like he needs it.
Maybe I will, maybe I won't. God give me strength and a quick mind to listen to my heart. It's not easy.
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6 comments:
that's really wierd. i thought it was a sham. in fact i thought he was going to ask for a ride and then kidnap and kill you. but then you couldn't have written the story. but it's all kindof wierd. i have no idea what the right thing to do is...too bad we usually don't have any time to stop and talk, or ask questions, or just listen. weird. i'd give him a buck for the effort of making up such a good story though.
Nato, that was really good to read. Last year when I was in Vancouver, I was faced with the question of the "strange" people, and what to think of them. Before Vancouver, when someone who appeared to be "strange" came up to me, as you said, I would ignore them and avoid eye contact. If they would talk to me, I would keep walking and if they would ask for money, I would immediately say no. Well in Vancouver I was shown a different perspective that was hard to swallow and even now I have not learned the intended leason completely. Working breifly with YWAM, we had to go, at night onto a downtown street, and panhandle. Our asignment was to sit on the sidewalk of a busy street, all by yourself and ask for money. Sitting on the ground, watching people pass you and asking for money, was an extremely humbling experience where I felt what it was like, in a mineute way, what the "strange" people felt. Noone wanted to look at me, extremely rude looks were passed my way and mothers pulled their children to the other side of the street. This was an brand new experience for me, and it gave me a sympathy and more of an understanding for the "strange people". It was unbelievable and I realized that these people are actually quite normal in some sense, in that they feel the same shame, the disrespect and the inhumanity that I felt sitting on a downtown street in Vancouver. I was challenged to treat them differently, to give them the time of day and to show them the same respect that I would give to a "normal" person approaching me on the street.
Thanks for the thoughts Nato, love ya, Suzanne
So yes James, I do read your blog and I really outa comment more often! I'm still on the brink though with this story. What happened? Did you go back?
I get to see a lot of homeless people at church and they are so sweet and I give them money because I want to but i also get to talk to them every week so it's a bit different. I know they have serious addictions and that what they really need is love and friendship. So I don't give them a lot of money but one day I hope I can do more for them.
Love ya Mre
Strange... I didn't mean for it to be a hook at the end. This story has no continuation - sorry. I didn't go back, it was too late, that part was meant as hypothetical. Confusing, I know.
On another note, thanks to you guys for your great comments. Well appreciated to see you care about what I'm saying. Blogging is becoming more difficult since I started writing... I don't know why, it has something to do with the heaviness of my posts. Maybe it's time for something lighter.
Surewould
PS, will anyone even read this? Oh well...
Hey Nathan,
Hey look at me! I read it! You don't have to be serious all the time when you blog. Although it has been great to delve deep into your soul with you.
Hi!
You might have come across my brother Jeff, he is on the street in your city.
Height, "Boss" term and cell phone (Dad gave him one) match
If it was, he was panhandling you.
Gas for the car is commom, had it used on me in Vegas.
If you had gave him money, it would have went for his habit.
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