The man is slumped in his chair and he looks dead. On a
crowded street corner, people and cars fly by, unfazed by the very real possibility
that his man slumped in his wheelchair isn’t just high or drunk, but may very
well be dead.
I know he’s not dead because when I first got to this coffee
shop, I came upon another man checking on him and indeed the man was roused
awake. But time and again, I have watched as the masses pass by.
Worse yet, a number of people walk by, turn around and stare, but then decide
to move on. But hope abounds, because I have watched time and again how when one
person stops and tries to engage the man and make sure he is alive, several
others stop, and ask what they can do to help. There is discomfort, uncertainty, and confusion, but above
all else there is a certain level of compassion and shared responsibility. And
so from a privileged place I watch the best and worst of humanity struggle to
deal with a problem that goes beyond one man in a wheelchair.
I must confess of all the social issues I care about,
homelessness is one of the most vexing. It’s hard to find the kind of "light at the end of the tunnel" hope you encounter in something like education. No, with the homeless, the weight of the charity we offer
indeed weighs heavily upon our shoulders as we are asked to work on a cause and with
people where the hope we want to believe in seems to have
faded long ago.
We’re a results oriented culture, but I really believe sometimes we're tasked to just show up and acknowledge in the other the shared humanity and dignity they themselves might not believe
they possess. Our task, however daunting it may be, is to somehow make the socially irrelevant realize how relevant they
really are.
As I was finishing this post, a man leaving Starbucks approached the homeless man. After he saw he wasn’t dead though, he did
something different. He stayed, and listened patiently for about 5 minutes as
the man spoke to him. And the man just listened. Then he smiled, handed him a cigarette, split
his breakfast sandwich in half, and then got behind the wheelchair, sharing a laugh with
the man as he helped, literally and figuratively, move the man a little closer to where he
probably really wants to be. He never noticed me, or anyone else whose eyes
were fixated on the touching scene unfolding on a gritty and busy street corner.
He did what was right most likely because his heart told him to do as much.
Some would say the odds are against us in this world. Now 7
billion people strong, there’s simply too many people, too many problems, to
pay each one the proper attention deserved. Well, perhaps it’s true, but I’ll
be damned if I don’t count myself among those who still try anyhow. How about
you? What story is someone writing about you when you least suspect it?