I was sick tonight. Trei and I got In-n-Out for dinner. We decided to park while we ate. A few bites into our sandwich, a homeless man started digging in the trashcan immediately in front of the car. He was wearing pink pants, carrying a bag, and had a beard. He looked sad, and hungry, and pathetic. And my heart wrenched for him. I wanted so badly to fix his problems. Give him my hamburger, and my jacket, and money for a place to sleep. But I just sat there and watched him. Afraid of offering him money. "What if he uses the money on alcohol?" I told myself. "What if he's offended that I give him money - he's not asking for it".
I remember when I was a little girl there was a man begging for money in the parking lot of the grocery store. He said he was hungry, needed to feed his family. My mom usually told us to ignore them - she said they'd use the money for bad things. I never believed her. Until this moment. My mom told the man she's bring him groceries - but he said it was okay - he'd buy his own. I remember we got the man white bread, and juice, cheese, and crackers. But when we got back to the car he was gone.I remember being sad. He didn't want money for food. He wanted money for cigarettes or something. My mom had been right. From that moment I felt torn.
Later on in life, I was maybe 17. I was entering McDonalds and there was a man counting his change. When I came back out - I handed him some cheeseburgers. He started to cry. So did I.
One Thanksgiving my parents took us to feed the homeless on skidrow. I was maybe 16. I was nauseous the entire time. All of the dirty, smelly, ugly looking people. Grabbing at food. Here I am - feeding them with my newly done nails, my highlighted hair, wearing perfume. I felt sad. I felt sick. I felt guilty. I felt protective. I didn't understand. I hadn't been around such heaviness before in my life.
I will never forget that time. Or any of these times.
I had that feeling again tonight when I saw the man digging for food. A feeling of helplessness, and wariness. After In-n-Out, Trei and I went to 3rd Street in Santa Monica - full of homeless people, asking for money. Had Trei not been with me, I would have paid attention to each one, handing over a dollar because of pity. Feeling obligated to my responsibility as a woman blessed with many things. But then burdended by my decision, because I don't want to feed anyones addiction. I'd give the dollar regardless. I saw a man aslep in a corner. Next to his hand.... was a smaller hand. The hand of his child. All I could see was the childs hand, because the rest of his/her body was undr a blanket. I felt sick again. Oh Lord, why that child. I instinctivly wanted to hold them.
Lord, these people, regardless of their situation are your children just as I am. Bless them. Direct me in the areas where I need to help. May I never be callous to their lifestyle. May my heart continue to weep for them. It is with that compassion that I might go and make a difference. If anything, I wil lift them up in prayer.
Me
I don't mind if you've got something nice to say about me
And I enjoy an accolade like the rest
And you can take my picture and hang it in a gallery
Of all the Who's Who's and So-and-So's
That used to be the best at such and such
It wouldn't matter much
I won't lie, it feels alright to see your name in lights
We all need an "Atta boy" or "Atta girl"
But in the end I'd like to hang my hat on more besides
The temporary trappings of this world
I want to leave a legacy
How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love?
Did I point to You enough
To make a mark on things
I want to leave an offering
A child of mercy and grace
Who blessed Your name unapologetically
And leave that kind of legacy
I don't have to look too far or too long awhile
To make a lengthy list of all that I enjoy
It's an accumulating trinket and a treasure pile
Where moth and rust, thieves and such will soon
enough destroy
Not well-traveled, not well-read
Not well-to-do, or well-bred
Just want to hear instead
Well done, good and faithful one
