Sometimes I forget I have a blog... In other news:
I think I need to be more like the homeless men I saw.
Last Tuesday, I was at the bus stop in San Jose, California. It was Spring Break and Rachel and I were on our way to Santa Cruz to enjoy the sun and watch the surfers. While checking the times for the arrival of the next bus, we passed a young man who was evidently homeless. We passed him again on our way to sit down and he asked me if I had any spare change. He had a soft face, he couldn’t have been more than 28. He had various tattoos on his hands and dirty clothes. Of course I was carrying cash, I had to pay to get on the bus. But I wasn’t trusting him with any of it. I watched him chase down a cigarette from a young kid and he sat back down on his ratty blanket. His face had no blemishes at all and I wondered who he was and where he was trying to go. He must have had an interesting story. Another man sauntered up. He too was evidently homeless. He was older, with a big beard and brght blue eyes. He wore navy Chucks and seemed real relaxed. He sat down a few feet away and I watched his shaky hand as he smoked a cigarette. I wondered what made his hand shake, if it was drugs, if he’d ever overdosed. Our bus cam and we got up to board. Both guys got in line behind us. The young man must have asked for change from the older man because he pulled out a wad of 5’s and 1’s and a handful of quarters. He gave the young man the bus fare he needed. I tried not to cry.
I think I need to be more like these homeless men.
Two lessons that I cannot seem to learn I saw come alive today in the lives of two of “the least of these.” I cannot fit through the eye of a needle. We admire people like the man on the train behind me. He announced loudly that he had just gotten out of jail for a minor offense: statutory rape. As he told his story to a girl who listened I heard him accept no responsibility, assume no guilt. He blamed society and circumstances instead. Or, we want to be like th shrewd business man behind him on the bus. He makes money, hates taxes, despises when people ask him for money. He provides only for those closest to him; his white collar life is starched and organized.
I’d rather be like the homeless men. Each of them are a lesson. The older man was generous. He had nothing more than the wad of cash in his pocket. He was selfless and compassionate on the young man. He could empathize with him, he lived on the same streets and searched the same alleys. Asked the same people for spare change. Yet, the young man is not pitiful or weak. He had faith that someone would provide for him. He trusted that he would be able to get to where he needed to go. In confidence and faith he asked each passerby if they could just give a little bit, only a small amount of the great wealth that lines our pockets. He had patience, I wonder what percentage of people really provided for him that day. He waited until he had it all, and he waited without being anxious.
Yes, I’d rather be like the homeless men.
