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I push a cart with my life's treasures
enclosed in a plastic bag.
My face is unshaven and dirty, my clothes are tattered. There is even an odor to me. Your eyes lower when we pass, as if visual contact would erase my existence. I am here by my own submission to hopelessness you say ... You are "cartless" by God's Grace. I am not sure I believe in God. If He were real, I would be soaking my old blistered feet in a hot sudsy tub of water. Have you ever seen feet like mine? I remember when I was younger reading a bible passage where Jesus washed the feet of the men he loved. You wouldn't even cast your eyes my way to acknowledge my feet. I am invisible to the likes of the high and mighty who have homes. |
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| Have you felt my hunger?
When you say to a friend " I'm starved," do you have any true idea of what it means to go without bread for days? My reservation at the local garbage dump is always honored, you would be welcome there. Have you heard my request for spare change? Your usual answer of "I don't have any," is a blatant lie, I won't drink it away or shoot up, I just want a cup of coffee and a piece of bread. When you see me sleeping on cardboard with blankets or newspaper to cover me do I repulse you? I once slept in a king size bed with plaid sheets that smelled of downy. When I lost my job and my family had enough of my alcoholism, I left to free them of my pain. My one noble act, cowardly as it may be, at least kept my wife and child united without the likes of me. |
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| HAVE YOU SEEN ME??
I HAVE SEEN YOU . I PRAY GOD WILL FORGIVE YOUR APATHY. I PRAY THAT THERE WILL BE A SEASON OF CHANGE AND THE RIGHTEOUS LOVE OF THE HOMELESS AND HELPLESS WILL CO-EXIST. I CHALLENGE YOUR EYES TO SEE ME. I AM THE HUMBLE. I AM THE HOMELESS. |
| The above story was written by a homeless person who had
spent the night in a shelter leaving this story behind.
The following are a couple of personal stories I would like to share with you. I'm sure many of you have similar stories to tell. I worked for a large Oakland, California law firm ... a firm of 250+ lawyers. I was a supervisor and co-manager ... my duties were stressful and often worked long hours. We ran a wordprocessing department that was busy 24 hours a day. My breaks were usually early evenings when most businesses were closed. I would often run around the block to a local MacDonald's to get a quick hamburger to take back to work. One particular evening there was an elderly homeless woman, perhaps in her late 70's or early 80's, very small and frail, standing at the counter counting out pennies for a cup of hot coffee to help warm her on a very cold, winter evening. I couldn't help but feel very saddened that the sunset of her life had ended up this way. I just couldn't imagine such a fate. I watched as she went to sit down at a table. I normally ordered one hamburger and rushed back to work ... that night I ordered two and made my way to another table across from this dear old woman. We made eye contact and exchanged smiles and a hello. Her eyes spoke of a hard life just to stay alive. |
| SUNNYTEE'SMusic4Lovers |
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| I ate most of one burger and asked her if she would like to have the other one as I hated to just throw it away. She nodded a grateful yes. It was this incident that I decided to give food, or money for food, each and everytime I had the money to eat out. If God puts a homeless, wretched and hungry soul in my path, I will always share what I have, even though I have always donated generously to charities, I now felt it also important to personally help those placed in my life path at any given time. It made a wonderful difference to a homeless victim, even if it was for just that moment of giving some change, a God bless you and a warm hello. Some people told me I was crazy because many were out there that didn't want to work, begging for money only to spend it on alcohol. Was it up to me, I asked, to judge each person before I gave? Of course, I'm sure I helped some do just that, but my husband put it in perspective for me. When you give money, it must be unconditionally. Perhaps drinking is the only thing helping a person get through a really bad time ... and maybe not. But, was I going to risk the people I could help that needed to fill an empty stomach with food by either not giving at all or making a wrong judgment? Only God can judge ... not I ... Oakland is typical of the average American city ... there are many, many homeless and hopeless. I was truly amazed that homeless weren't mostly younger people, but there were so many elderly sharing the same fate. Also, many who were younger were mothers or fathers with children and/or with their faithful pets who were homeless, struggling, shivering from the cold or hungry on the streets of our cities while our bellies were full, snug in our homes while living our busy and full lives. |
| I have one more personal story to share with you, and it's only one of many ... Another homeless, elderly woman in her mid 80's ambled by one early evening as I sat in front of my work place taking a much needed break from work. She was bent over from age, her hands trembled as she gathered cigarette butts from the building ashtray. I quickly asked her not to do that ... she wouldn't know who was ill that left their used up cigarettes crumpled in those ashtrays. I smoked cigarettes at that time and reached into my purse and gave her my pack. She was such a beautiful woman, she had weathered and wrinkled skin but soft blue eyes that were soft and genuine ... and sad. We quickly became friends. From then on, she made sure she was always outside my building waiting for our visit at my break time. I couldn't believe she had a son that was estranged and didn't seem to care if she was dead or alive or give a rat's ass what happened to her. She shared many stories of her life and what it once used to be. She told me she would have never, ever thought she would end up this way when she was a young, happy wife and mother who was always helping other people and involved with her community that has now let her down. |
| I had told my husband about my new friend. She was asthmatic but couldn't afford her inhaler as she pulled out her empty one. By not having a permanent address it didn't afford her any help from the county. Each day meant she had to hope there was an empty bed at an overly crowded mission, but most often there was not and she slept on the ground under a bush on a piece of cardboard. I had noticed she had chipped red nail polish that was mostly gone from her nails; I noticed a ragged scrunchy, faded and torn, around her silver hair bun; I noticed faded and very worn clothes that were much too large for her small frame; I noticed a thread-bare coat, much too thin to keep warm; I noticed a pair of scuffed and worn boots that were also too large for her small and aching feet. When I left that night to go to my comfortable home in the suburbs, I filled a handy and pretty tote bag and filled it with things a street person might need ... including one of my asthma inhalers, nail polish, a small hair brush, new scrunchy ribbons for her hair, a little cash, a pretty, soft wooly sweater, a scout knife that had everything you could need in it, including a tiny pair of scissors, a file and even a little fork! And yes ... a pack of cigarettes and a lighter! When I saw her the following evening, I handed her my surprise. She cried ... tears stained her soft, wrinkled cheeks while she was smiling ... she said it's been so long since anyone cared whether she lived or died, had eaten or was starving, was well or sick. This was a woman whose spirit was broken ... a woman that society discarded ... and didn't have to think about her. "What's happened to all of us" I cried. "Where's the decency and respect that every human being deserves." "Why aren't there more of us helping our sisters and brothers, especially since God puts them clearly in our life paths?" |
| The holy goodness of this old woman also showed when she came one evening for another one of our visits with a little plastic rosary she got from the mission's priest that day. She had it blessed by the priest and then kissed it as she placed it in my hand. She said if someone gives you something one must give something back in return. This became one of my most precious possessions.
Each and every homeless person has a story to tell. Homeless knows no color, race, religion or creed, they are the educated and the not so educated. Most are homeless due to sheer circumstance and have not been given a choice. Not all, but most. They didn't ask for this kind of life, and once there, it's horribly difficult to climb out of it without more help than most cities and organizations can financially fund. Please, please be the Christian you are and don't ever judge until you've walked in their shoes. This subject is very near and dear to my heart. Please remember to help your local missions. If you can't give food, your volunteer help would be greatly appreciated. And when you can ... personally befriend a homeless person, even if it's for a moment. It could make the difference of a stranger wanting to live or die. Give hope ... it's humanitarian. Face it, we are all only here on this planet to help one another. Nothing ... Nothing is more important. Do what you can, for who you can, with what you have, and where you are. Who knows ... one day it could be you. May you hear God's voice in your heart, know His touch in your life and feel His love each day. God bless you, my friend. Thanks for listening. My love to you, Sunny |
| Have You Seen Me? |
| HELP LINKS |
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| Click on Sunny to Return to Part 2 |
| I BELIEVE ~ sung by Elvis Presley |