It is not enough for us to say to ourselves, “There but for the grace of God go I” as we consider the life of those in need among us. We do a disservice to the life (and death) of the speaker of that phrase, John Bradford, when we speak it out of pity.
It has been said that perhaps a better framing of this phrase is to look at the plight of all humanity, and state firmly, “There go I.”
There go I…hungry. There go I…homeless. There go I…forgotten. There go I…broken. There go I…alone.
There go I…oblivious. There go I…justifying. There go I…ignoring. There go I…also broken. There go I…also alone.
When our personal life intersects with the fate of all humanity, then, and only then, are we truly human. Any life that does not live in the grittiness of that moment fails to live fully.
This is a place to share your stories about those moments. Stories of trying to be fully human.
Some are beautiful. Some are downright ugly.
All of them are owned by all of us.
As we call ourselves human.
Jason, my husband, and I had a meeting in downtown Saint Paul this past week. There was a gentleman standing at the intersection of 35 E and Grand Ave. He help a cardboard sign indicating he was a veteran and in need. I handed Jason one of the gLOVEbox bundles we had prepared in community just a couple weeks earlier. He rolled down his window, passed it to the gentlemen on the corner and simple said, “Peace, Man.”
We felt changed. It was such a simple but powerful gesture – because we didn’t pass by. We didn’t have to just sit their awkwardly with not decent way to respond to this human being just a foot away from us. The barrier of a window can be physically effective for a moment but a window does nothing to isolate me from the intrinsic connectedness of me to my brothers and sisters on the streets – that connectedness that I feel in my chest whenever we intersect.
As we drove away, I remarked at how ready he was to receive when he had no idea what Jason was handing him. I looked back and he was smiling and turning the bag over and over, seeing what little precious gifts were just given him. I pray he is safe, warm, loved and loving always.
I had two winter jackets when I started the day. One was old with a torn lining and the other was my good, new jacket that fit me really well and looked good. Today I was wearing the good one when I left the house.
I had the privilege of handing out food supplements to low income senior citizens and moms of young kids at a church. The church had been doing a “winter coat collection” project and had a large pile of coats that were going to be donated to a local agency that would get them into the hands of the right people. An elderly woman who was standing in line for her food supplements asked if she could take a coat for a homeless friend of hers. He had no coat and needed one with winter fast approaching. I directed her to one of the pastors who said there were no adult size coats.
I thought of love in the glovebox. I had one in my car so I retrieved it. I carried this woman’s food supplement box to her car and we talked about her homeless friend. I told her I had a coat and a “love in the glovebox” for her to give her friend. We stood and talked for a while and she told be more about her friend. As I was about to leave I took off my winter jacket and asked her to please give it to her friend. She stood there saying, “You can’t do that. You can’t just take your coat off and give it away.”
I thank God that for once in my life I had eyes to see a need and did something about it. Now I’m wearing the old winter jacket with the torn lining.
[...] and just had to post it. It is not mine, nor did I write it. You can read more like this at http://loveintheglovebox.wordpress.com/your-story/ on December 5, 2008 at 8:03 pm [...]
I stood on a corner, pretending to be homeless.
Cars had to stop next to me, waiting for a green light.
Many people stared straight ahead, not daring to look at me.
Others stole quick glances, but would not hold eye contact.
The three that really looked at me were the only ones to offer assistance.
I think that says a lot about how we pass through this world.
And it inspires me to look closer at the people and things I come in contact with.
As a child, I had little to no idea what it meant to be homeless.
Spending a couple of hours on a street corner with a “homeless help” sign, dressed down and unable to make eye contact with strangers passing by only provides a cheap glimpse at it. We fail the understanding of what it means to daily drift in and out of the shadows of society with no food or shelter.
I’m reminded of the Pharisee and the Sadducee praying with one thanking God he’s not like the other. Such a wretched man. Who am I? See the homeless man, the hungry, the poor? thank God I’m not like he- Who’s the wretched man?
This is not a story about “us” and “them” rather realizing how many of our strange and unnamed brothers and sisters are hardened by life’s twists and turns. More so, the ability for God to show up in the most amazing ways and continue to change the hearts of those He calls. God uses gLovebox bundles to change people’s hearts.
My most impactful scenario came when standing on the corner with gLovebox bundles in hand as a couple pulled up at the light and rolled down their window. As I approached them, the man driving held out some turkey jerkey for me to take and eat. I told them both that I wasn’t really homeless but was there to provide “help for the homeless”. I reached in my bag, passed them a kit for their gLovebox and asked them to give it to someone they’d see who really needed it. Dumbfounded, the husband said “What religion are you anyway”?
Funny the way we tend to think. Do Christians or Jews, Catholic or Muslim, Mormons, Buddhists or Jehovah’s Witnesses do this stuff? I’m a Christian I said. Figuring that following Christ may suffice the conversation. He rolled up his window, I walked away. A moment later, his window rolled back down and he motioned me over towards himself and his wife again. This time I saw that the woman was visibly shaken as she reached over and handed me a $20.00 bill and asked me to use the money to make more of the gLovebox bundles for those who are in need.
What a impact, right on the corner of God and humankind.
On November 16th, I was a first-time participant in the distribution of Love-in-a-Glovebox bundles. (See “Intersections” for the explanation of how this works). It was an eye-opening and heart-softening experience to say the least.
We were dressed in our best homeless look and we set out for an intersection closer to the inner city where homeless people were known to be seen. We parked at our intended location and as we readied ourselves, out street corner was taken over by an actual homeless person starting his day’s work. Before we left to find another corner, we decided that we should go give one of our bundles to this man.
I walked up with the package and handed it to him. He very graciously accepted with a “Thank You” and a “God Bless You”. With my mission complete, I turned away to head back to my car. He interrupted my return with “My name is Kevin!”. This was enough to make me at least turn back and shake his hand to introduce myself but I didn’t catch the cue until much later that he was reaching out to me with a need that surpassed granola bars and gloves…It was important to him that I knew his name.
Reflecting on this, our conversation back in the car centered around Kevin. Not just some homeless guy but a particular person whose name is Kevin. Kevin who once was a proud mother’s new baby boy and who was once heading off for his first day of kindergarten. Now, through circumstances unknown, he is on a street corner asking for a handout and looking for a connection.
So what was intended to be a trip to distribute gLOVEbox bundles and hopefully impact those passing by turned out to be an experience that impacted me. I won’t forget Kevin’s face or his name and somehow I know it is helping him.
I think that everyone who has ever driven past a person with a cardboard sign on a streetcorner has been affected to the core of their humanity. Whether we choose to bury it with distractions like cell phones or radio buttons – or we embrace our humanity and make eye contact with a fellow human being in need. Somewhere, each of us is affected. Our humanity will always rise to the surface whether it takes its form through guilt or through blame, through prayer or compassioniate action. The deaf ears of apathy can only keep our humanity mute for a time.
The cold November day that I stood on a street corner to hand out Love in a GLOVEbox bundles changed me. So many cars drove by without stopping, thinking I was one of “those homeless people.” Hardly anyone would even look at me. Those who did, mostly looked with distain and then quickly pretended to be busy doing something far more important than embracing their humanity, while they waited for the light to change. I felt shame, loneliness, humiliation, fear, hopelessness – all these things even though I was not really homeless! I felt the burden of needs not met. I imagined what it would be like to HAVE to stand there, maybe with children in tow, meeting the same non-response from all those driving by. My eyes welled up with tears that didn’t belong to me. Where was our humanity?!
Then the light changed again. Someone pulled over close to me! It was a beat up old car from the late 70’s. The two men inside rifled through their belongings. Out of the passenger side emerged a spanish speaking gentleman with a warm smile. He walked up to me and handed me a $5 bill. As I thankfully turned away the money and gave him a package instead, explaining what I was doing, we met a language barrier. Our exchanged smiles said what our words couldn’t, we fumbled our way to understanding, he thanked me and went off on his way.
Soon another car stopped. It was an Asian family, crammed into a small vehicle, happy to hear that I wasn’t really homeless and delighted to hear what I was doing there. Three more new SUV’s drove by, a 2008 Toyota, a new Saturn, a freshly washed Audi. No one even made eye contact. They were burying. Why was it that those who had so much would not even acknowledge my apparent need? Were they afraid of me, a bundled middle aged woman shivering and alone on a street corner?
That day, without exception, every single person who stopped to help me had very little themselves. Was it out of their own pain that compassion had blossomed into charity? Were they the meek, who had inherited the riches of God’s kingdom, with plenty to share? Despite language barriers, our humanity spoke very clearly in the tongue of all nations. Something new had been brought to all street corners that day. Each car that stopped had a person in it who could increase their afffect on another through a story and the simple generosity of our humanity.
I gave away my first glovebox bundle last night as we headed downtown to a concert. Three things about sharing this gift are stuck in my mind. First, the man’s voice saying over and over again “thank you, thank you, thank you” as we pulled away from the curb. It is a voice that will stick with me for a long time. Second, what seemed like a scene in slow motion as I was watching him in the side view mirror as he intently examined the bag and then looked up in wonder as we were driving away. And third, how the Christmas music seemed to touch me in a deeper part of my being. Kinda weird huh?