Who Can You Give Your Bagel?

There are sometimes when I read something, and I am so inspired to share it that I immediately update my Facebook status, type my 140 characters on Twitter, and then, point my browser to Blogger to get the word out. This is one of those posts.

Since we moved to California, I have been even more aware of the issue of homelessness, because frankly, on every corner, I am seeing it. It's more prevalent here than it was in our former home state of South Carolina. Even though we live in a little suburban area well outside of the city of San Francisco, I see it. Every day.

The problem with seeing it every day is that you start to get used to it. It is sad but true. In the first days when we moved here, I was stopped in my tracks by seeing a person sleeping in the doorway of my local bank. Five months later, I notice, but I am not quite as frozen in place with each sighting.

Please take a few moments to read this piece posted by Julianna Morlet this morning. A friend of mine shared this on Facebook, and her comments on the post made me click through and read. I was moved to tears.

I struggle a great deal with faith, religion and how some people judge or hurt others in the name faith. But this post and these words are the best example of "walking the walk" of being a compassionate human being, and remembering to give, listen, and pay attention...to everyone.

This is a reminder to all of us that those struggling with homelessness, addiction, mental illness, and other tragic circumstances that take control of their lives are someone's child, someone's sibling, someone's parent...someone's connection to another life. Thank you Julianna Morlet for writing this, and to my friend Lori for sharing this today.

(I am sharing her post in its entirety here, as I don't want you to miss a word)

Who Can You Give Your Bagel?

by Julianna Morlet

 

"Whoever has a bountiful eye will be blessed, for he shares his bread with the poor." Proverbs 22:9 (ESV)

 

I woke up at 5 a.m., hit my snooze button, dragged myself out of my warm sheets and started my normal-every-Tuesday-morning-routine. I drove to Starbucks, swapped the typical weather jokes with my favorite barista, ordered my grande coffee and bagel, and walked out the glass door.

 

What wasn't routine was the scraggly teenage boy I ran into on my way to my truck. He was asking for something. Though I didn't clearly hear him, I assumed it was money.
 

I told him I was sorry but I didn't have any, and continued on.

 

He didn't ask again and he didn't pester me. But something in my head did. Did he ask for money or food?

 

Quickly, I spun around and asked, "Do you need food?" His reply was so innocent and affirmative. I held out my goodie bag. "Here ya go, a toasted bagel with cream cheese made just for you." He smiled so big, I thought his lip ring was gonna pop out.

 

I didn't think anything of it until I got in the truck and started pulling away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the boy peeling open the cream cheese, carefully and joyfully, like it was Christmas morning.

 

On my drive to the office, I wept like a broken-hearted mother.

 

I didn't know this boy. Had no idea what kind of trouble or circumstances got him to the streets, but I did know he was someone's son. And if my son were out on the streets, asking for food at 6:30 in the morning, I'd want that busy-looking girl to stop and give him her bagel.
 

Almost a month later, my mother forwarded me an email she had received from a woman in her Bible study. It read:

 

"Hi Alma, Viola told me she read Julianna's blog which talked about giving a hungry teenage boy her bagel. Viola wondered if it was my son Kyle because of the lip ring Julianna mentioned. I was overwhelmed with emotion and gratitude for her compassion. He was hungry and she gave him something to eat. I have attached a picture of Kyle to show Julianna to see if he is the one she fed that morning. If not, I know there is another mother out there that would be very grateful for her compassion if she knew."

 

I scrolled down to see the face of the boy and gasped as my eyes instantly filled with tears. It was him! The boy had a name and it was Kyle. But more than that, he had a mother. And now she knew someone had taken care of her son, even if it was just a small meal.
 

We are not all called to mission fields far away. We are not all called to pastor a church or lead a women's Bible study. However there is one thing we are all called to do as God's people: we're all called to stop, to be aware of the hurting around us, and to have compassion. We are called to share our bread with the poor.

 

The Lord asks us to care. He calls us to be on the lookout for those who need our time and kindness. And yes, our bagel and cream cheese too.

 

Check out the video of Julianna interviewing Kyle's mom:

 

 

To read the original post, click here.

Click here to go to Julianna's personal blog.

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Seeing Things

Lately, we have been so wrapped up in our stress, that I can only describe what we have been going though as a feeling of drowning. Every now and then, we come up for air and float for a little while, but before too long, we get pulled under again. There are some possible things lining up for us, but right now, things are still uncertain. I wouldn’t wish this kind of financial stress on anyone.

At times, over the last month especially, I have felt selfish for how wrapped up in everything I have been. I feel like I haven’t been as supportive to my friends, and I haven’t been in touch with everyone as much as I need to. It’s just so hard when things aren’t going well to be all the things you want to be and do all the things you want to do.

Earlier this evening, my husband and I decided to take a walk into town to get our mind off of things and splurge (a whole $5.00) on frozen yogurt. The walk was a pretty good hike each way, and it gave us time to just enjoy the amazing weather and connect and talk.

On the way home, as we passed a little restaurant, I noticed an elderly woman struggling to hold the door and get herself inside. My husband was closer so I pointed her out so he could help. What I thought was a walker was a cart, which apparently held all of her belongings. She looked to me to be at least 80 years old, and her coat and clothing were worn and dirty. There was a definite odor around her and her possessions. She quickly thanked Shea for his help and ushered herself inside.

I was so upset as we walked away, I could barely keep my composure. I always hurt when I see people who are homeless, but when they are elderly, it absolutely tears me up. It breaks my heart to think of anyone at that point in their life, all those years lived, and now here they are in this situation. As we walked away I wondered how she had ended up like this, where she would sleep tonight.

It was a jolt of perspective and a reminder that my situation could be worse, but more than anything I just ached for her. I was upset that we aren’t in a different situation where I could have given her money, made sure she had a meal, and I don’t know what else. I have not been able to get her off of my mind, or the look on her face as we saw her-- really saw her situation-- this look of shame on her face and the way she hurriedly thanked us and moved inside.

The fact is, that especially where we live now (in comparison to other places we have lived) there are more people in this situation. I was in San Francisco a few weeks ago for a meeting in an area I hadn’t been in before, and as I was navigating my way off of the subway and around a few corners to my destination, the sight of so many homeless people sleeping in breezeways and on benches literally slowed me down. I had forgotten how prevalent it is here.

I don’t want to be one of those people who looks away and does nothing. Over the years, so many of my friends have cautioned me about being too tenderhearted, too sensitive. And to be honest, there have been a few times when I have reached out to someone and the situation went sideways. An example: over 10 years ago, while I was working in a pretty big city, I noticed a man every morning as I drove into work. He was using a rickety step ladder as a walker and struggled to slowly make progress heading down the sidewalk. The more I saw him, the more it ate at me. For the first time in my life, I was making decent money, and I felt moved to stop and offer to buy him a decent walker. I had been warned by people in my office about doing this…that you never know how people will accept offers, and to be careful.

Determined, I finally pulled over one afternoon and approached him. It was a busy street and all kinds of people were nearby. I asked the man if he would mind if I helped him get an adequate walker. I explained that I had been through some tough times in my life, and that friends and strangers had helped me in different ways, and I would like to, in a sense, return the favor done for me.

He looked at me as if he was trying to understand what I was saying. I was uncertain for a moment if he understood what I meant. Then, he raised his wobbly stepladder over his head and yelled at me to “mind my own business—that he didn’t need any help, he didn’t ask for it, thank you very much”. He then proceeded to swing the stepladder at me a few times. Luckily, he was slow, and I made a hasty retreat to my car.

After a few “I told you so’s” from the people I worked with, I finally got over the shock and embarrassment. A friend reminded me that if I wanted to help, that it was better to work with an organization and give my time/money that way. I have stubbornly forgotten this advice several more times in my life, and I can honestly say, I have had some bad experiences.

It hasn’t changed that gut-wrenching emotional moment when I see someone like the elderly woman I saw tonight. I am glad I haven’t become so cynical that I can’t feel that.

But, there is a small part of me that wishes this feeling didn’t hang on and bother me so much. I keep looking out my sliding glass door tonight, wondering if she is sleeping outside somewhere in the darkness. I wonder if she has family or if she is alone in the world. I wonder if she is a grandmother. I wonder if she is mentally ill or painfully cognizant of her life right now. I wonder if I could have or should have done anything tonight.

I wonder if I am losing my mind.

All I can do is wonder right now, and try and get some sleep… and be thankful that at least for now, I have a bed to sleep in, a roof over my head, my husband next to me, and a 100 pound dog who will likely try and take over most of the space on our mattress tonight. Not insignificant things at all, and things I try to never take for granted.

Tonight, I definitely won’t.

The artwork pictured is by Fanny Allie and is part of an installation called "The Glowing Homeless". Click here to learn more about the artist and her work.

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The Same Cafe

"You must be the change you wish to see in the world." -Mahatma Gandhi

With all the gloom in the headlines as of late, I came upon this story about The Same Café in Denver, Colorado where everyone—regardless of their ability to pay—gets a beautiful meal, some comfort, a great does of dignity, and probably most important of all—a moment as part of their community instead of a statistic or problem to be solved.

My words won’t add too much impact to the story itself, except to say I am inspired, and when I watch something like this I try and think of just one small thing I can do to make some kind of difference for anyone—within the next day or week. It reminds me why I love that quote in the first place. It is a reminder and a challenge—a call to action.

A call these owners have taken to heart --and have given as a gift to their community.

For more great stories like this about people making a difference, you can follow the MSNBC series Making a Difference on twitter here.

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Lost and Found

The real Nathaniel Ayers.

I have written before about learning so clearly that every homeless person has a story of how they lost their way, how they came to be where they are. In that posting, I wrote of hearing one man's story, and how it changed my view of all homeless people after that.

Last night, I saw the movie, The Soloist--a true story of a Los Angeles Times reporter who meets a homeless man playing the violin on the streets of LA, and learns the man was once a musical prodigy and had attended Julliard. As the reporter learns more and more about the man's life, he is drawn into helping him, and becomes his friend.

The real musician that is featured in this movie, Nathaniel Ayers, had an amazing future in front of him. By all accounts, he was gifted, a prodigy, and all those who taught him or played with him had no doubts about his future success. But while attending Julliard, schizophrenia set in, and Nathaniel's life was changed forever.

All of the actors are amazing in this movie. The reporter, Steve Lopez, is played by Robert Downey Jr. and Nathaniel is played by Jamie Foxx. There were moments watching Jamie play this man, when you could see him remembering all that he once was, all that he had lost, and it was heartbreaking.

What I didn't touch on in my last post was the frightening reality that so many people that are homeless are suffering from some form of serious mental illness, and are either undiagnosed, misdiagnosed, or without family or resources. A large number of schizophrenics find their way too homelessness, because this horrifying disease leaves those who suffer from it in such turmoil about what reality is, most hear voices, and the ability to just survive in any way with schizophrenia becomes a victory.

The movie does a excellent job of putting you in Nathaniel's head and letting you understand first hand how frightening and tormenting this disease is. You FEEL the pain of losing your grip, not understanding what is happening to your mind, your body or your life.

I cried several times during the movie, and thought of all the homeless people out there, who once had normal lives, families, dreams and ambitions who are 'lost souls' that no one may ever discover or take the time to know. I think of the randomness of Steve Lopez meeting Nathaniel, and know that there must be other Nathaniel's out there.

The beauty of this story to me is: one person can make a difference. Nathaniel's life was changed, brightened, and made more beautiful by one man who wrote one story, and then could not walk away.

Please see this movie! Check out the official website here, where you can learn about the movie and also see the real Nathaniel and Steve being interviewed on video.

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Where the Heart Is

I have lived in some big cities-San Francisco, Atlanta, Washington DC- and have seen the homeless problem up close and personal in all these places, plus in the even smaller cities and towns I have lived in. When I was younger, I shook my head at these people who had obviously made the "wrong choices" or were living a life fueled by drugs and alcohol. As I got older, I realized the reality is not that easy to explain.

I think the first big slap of understanding came to me when I was in college in Greensboro, NC, during my sophomore year. I volunteered a little bit with a women's shelter and a soup kitchen. At the soup kitchen, we gave out meals at designated times of the day, and every day I was there, I saw the same man coming in, and all I could think when watching him was how ashamed he looked the entire time. I would always try to make eye contact with him, but he would look down and walk to sit alone.

Finally one day, after he had sat down, I walked over to his table and asked if I could sit with him. He gestured an "ok" without looking at me. I introduced myself, and somehow got him talking.

He ended up telling me his story, how he ended up homeless. He had been a college professor, had a beautiful family, a wife and two kids. He had the perfect life. Then, one night, when he was driving, they were in a car accident. He was the only survivor.

He said he hung on for awhile, but then became a serious alcoholic, and lost everything. People tried to help, and he had alienated everyone and drifted around, too embarrassed to be seen by people he knew. He had tried to straighten up, but always failed. He was crying telling me all this, and it had been 4 years since the accident. I cried with him.

I learned in that moment, though, that the people sitting on the sidewalks, in the alleys asking for handouts, are probably never what we assume. The man that I spoke with was so tortured with guilt for surviving I think, and just so sad and lost, that he lost his grip on life. It made me look at every homeless person I ever saw again so differently. That person is someone's son or daughter, someone's sister or brother, someone's mother or father. Who knows what got them there?

Sometimes you see a homeless person with a pet, most times a dog. I hear people talking after they walk by about how "awful" that is, and if they can't take care of themselves, why would they drag an animal into that. I have actually watched people criticize homeless people for this.

I think it makes them still feel human in some way. I know that they need love, and dogs especially love you unconditionally. I know it is hard to understand, and I have battled a little with my opinion on this at times, too. But I cannot imagine being without a home, without any human contact, and just the need to feel some companionship.

Right now, I know some people have even scratched their heads over my choice to bring a dog into my life when financially things aren't great, and a lot of things are just crazy for me. But the joy that my dog has brought to me is immeasurable.

So, to the real purpose of this post--a Belgian homeless shelter opened its doors to homeless people with dogs. The reason? Many of the homeless would not come inside from the freezing temperatures and leave their dogs behind.

I remember during Katrina, I was so angry that many animals were left behind because rescue teams couldn't take them. I understand (or try to) that they have to concentrate on human life rescues, but to leave these animals to starve or die...I was so distraught. There were some who refused to leave and be rescued for that very reason. I am not sure if people were properly warned beforehand regarding their animals, but considering the whole mess that our administration made of that at the time, I doubt it.

The Belgian shelter says it hopes other shelters will follow suit. I do believe that a homeless person's first priority should be getting back on their feet, getting back into society. But for some people, hope seems so far away, and a little companionship may seem like a saving grace.

Belgian homeless shelter opens doors to dogs

BRUSSELS (Reuters) - A shelter in the Belgian city of Liege has opened its doors to dogs this winter to persuade their homeless owners to come in from the freezing cold.
The city's social welfare agency has agreed to house about eight homeless people with their pets at a local soccer club when it is freezing outside.
Michel Faway, secretary-general of the agency, said the programme started because many homeless people refused to come inside without their dogs no matter how cold it got.
"They have to come to the night shelter in Liege first as we obviously can't have 40 of them," he said. "They are then transported by bus to the space."
The project has been a success. All eight beds have been filled on the nights when the service was offered.
Faway hopes to see the scheme expand to other cities.

(Reporting by Sarah Luehrs, Antonia van de Velde; Editing by Nick Vinocur)

article courtesy of Reuters, photo courtesy http://www.petsofhomeless.com/

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