Week 3. . .it was a gray, drizzly, rainy early evening in the park at the mouth of the bridge. We all stood around waiting. They came up to us one by one. They were offered hot soup from the crockpot and Panera bread. We heard their stories one by one; the couple living out of their car in the store parking lot, the one with the bright blue eyes, living in a tent behind an abandoned building, the one living under the bridge for almost a year now. He was anxiously awaiting a job interview the next morning. The one from the tent opened up more this week, seeming to enjoy the company and the conversation. The friend from under the bridge sipped his soup and shared his thoughts, his desires, his prayers.
This friend has a motorcycle that had died and was sharing with me how he needed a special tool and he would be able to figure out which part was not working. I had no idea about this tool. But one of the volunteers, a little lady just happened to walk up to us as he mentioned the tool and she heard. She said, 'Oh, I have one of those. Let me go home and get it and you can borrow it for as long as you need." She went home and brought it back. I'm thinking. . .A God moment! So did our friend.
These people who came this evening came with a tiredness in their eyes, a little frustration beneath the surface, but all were so friendly and polite and strong. The make it through each day with hardly anything, the things we take for granted, they do without and yet they smile and they go on from day to day.
Our human spirit it stronger than I think we realize. I think if I was in their shoes, I could not make it. But where is the faith in my God with that kind of thinking? I wonder sometimes if the people on the streets are not stonger than I.
I'm just an average middle class woman but they would think I live like a queen. Perspective is a strange word. I have felt that my family struggles from time to time. They would think they were royalty if they lived like we do. Others would look at our park guests and think they were bums. I look at them and I see beautiful people who want to be loved.
I go home each week with tears in my eyes. I'm not sure if it's just for them or if it's for the others out there who do not know our park guests and have their perspectives wrong. It's such a shame. The ones we meet out there on the streets, at the mouth of the bridge, in the park. . .creations of God. His perspective? I hear it being whispered in the breeze out there. . .Grace. Mercy. Love. I think I'll stick with His perspective.
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2 comments:
Bless you, praying for you.
Great post, Kris. I'll choose His perspective too. Even though I drive a 16 year old car that everyday is a little closer to car heaven, I feel guilty for having it when I see people walking, waiting for transport in the hot sun or rain, with little children and parcels. Then, an expensive SUV flies by me, a huge pick up truck cuts in front, BMWs and all kinds of fancy cars unconcernedly speeding by and I think I'm like the little fish in this big pond.
Isn't life crazy? We can live side by side with extreme poverty and excessive richness and none to bridge the gap. Thank God for your compassionate heart and the work you and your friends are doing. You are, as always, in my prayers.
Love & Blessings to you!
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