First of all, we began the evening by running low of food. Praise the Lord, everyone got to eat, but there is something about running low that brings down your spirits.
As we were serving, a man whom none of us knew by name came up to another one of our homeless friends and pushed him to the ground. There was no apparent reason for the scuffle, and the combative man walked away. . . . for now. He came back about twenty minutes later and tried to start another fight. He seemed to be mentally disturbed in some way, and, I must admit, I was a little bit frightened. I found myself looking everywhere for Russell to see if he was involved. He wasn't. Eventually, the man left, we had our time of worship, and things wound down.
I found myself sitting next to Sam (name is changed because I didn't ask "Sam" if I could use his name in my blog). Sam has been on the streets since February of 2010. Some twenty-odd years ago, Sam lost his wife and daughter in a car accident. After being a mess for a while, he got himself a job and lived his life. But, with the downtrodden economy, Sam found himself layed off and soon without a penny to his name.
I have met Sam before. I have heard part of Sam's story before. But, as I look back to those previous occasions, I remember thinking thoughts like this: "Wow. That was tragic. Now he doesn't even think straight. He seems a little crazy to me. Hmmm...I wonder if he could "fit in" with society. He seems so different. Sometimes delusional."
This Thursday, Sam didn't seem "different" or "delusional." He seemed like a hurting soul in need of something to "fill up the hole." Those aren't my words. They were Sam's. He spread his arms out really wide and said,
"With all that I have gone through, there is a hole this big in my heart. I just hope I can fill part of it up."
Sam went on to share a few other things with me. He mentioned how much it hurt to watch grandparents walk around with their grandchildren and know that he would never be able to hold a little child in his arms and say that they were part of his family. I hurt with him. No, I didn't know what he was going through, but I just wanted him to know that I would share in that pain with him, even if it was only for ten minutes.
Then, Sam started to tell me the "message" he is spreading to those around him. He said,
"When I get the chance to talk to kids, I tell them that I'm glad they believe in God and all, but that there comes a point in your life when you just have to put Him aside. Look at reality. Prepare yourself."Of course, I disagreed. I told him what I thought. But he didn't want to hear it. He said that God hadn't filled up his hold yet - so why should he trust him? He said, "You might think I am bitter. But I'm not bitter, I'm just plain mad."
I was sad. I was hurting for Sam, but I was also feeling very smug. I assured him that God was there for him, and that God had the answer. And I absolutely believe that is true. But that wasn't what Sam was looking for. The next thing he told me was this:
"You know, it's nice that people come down here and serve us. But I hate it when they come down for their "One a Week to Make Me Feel Better" trips. Come down here and be my friend. Come down and say HI. Talk to me. Have lunch with me. But don't just come down with a smile on your face and a "God loves you" and then do nothing else."I can't even begin to say how impacted I was by this. This morning, a homeless friend sent me a message on Facebook. He needed a bus pass. And I had money. So Russell and I came downtown and bought him a bus pass. Then, we went to lunch.
It wasn't much, but it was a start.
"To whom much is given, much will be required."
