After church today I felt compelled to go to Costco and gather items to make lunch bags of goodies to deliver to the homeless. I picked up water bottles, cup o’ noodles soup, snack crackers, fruit snacks, and a bag of mixed candy. I had a heap of lunch bags leftover from a previous mini lunch bag ministry adventure (5 years ago), and I started writing encouraging scriptures on the outside that would hopfully offer a morsel of hope while they enjoyed the vittles. I didn’t know that I would deliver them TODAY…I just prepared them and expected to place them in my truck for the right opportunity to deliver (homeless standing on freeway offramps, namely).
When I finished packing 24 of the bags, I had the urge to go for a drive. I didn’t know where I was going…I just pointed the truck to the freeway…and it took me downtown. Interesting dialogue passed through my conscience as I started into downtown. I saw a few homeless at waterfront park and I was wondering how God would bring the people to me…would they be on the side of the road, so that I could just extend an arm out the window? I was contemplating how I could go about this without actually having to get out of the truck. After a few moments I thought how ridiculously selfish that was of me! Seriously…they live on the streets and I don’t want to inconvenience myself enough to get OUT of my truck?! Conviction.
As I drove a bit deeper into downtown, I saw a group of homeless camped along a building and pulled over. There were two women sitting under blankets and a gentleman standing talking to them and a group of others laying down, wrapped up in sleeping bags and blankets. I grabbed the first box of bags, which had 7 bags in it, and took it over to them. I greeted them with a ‘Hi There!’ They all stared at me imploringly wondering who in the world am I and what in the world I was doing. I set the box down on the sidewalk and let them know that I have some goodies for them. I explained the contents of the bags and their faces lit up with beeming smiles. ‘THANK YOU!’ ‘Oh my goodness, thank you so much!’ And the man said, ‘Wow! You must be an angel!’ I just smiled. No sir, I’m not an angel…just trying to be the hands and feet of Jesus.
I did have my daughter with me and I left her in the truck for that transaction [only a couple feet away] and when I got back into the truck she was asking me questions about what I was doing and I tried to explain to her, but started crying. I’m bringing these goodie bags to these people because they don’t have homes or warm food to eat… My heart broke into a million pieces. I looked into the eyes of the women sitting on the freezing cold concrete, knowing it was only going to get colder. This is only the beginning of the cold season. We’re not even into winter yet…
As we drove further on, I then again wondered if there’d be another group that I would deliver the next box to [with 9 bags]. But I saw a singular woman leaning against a stop sign and that was my cue to find a parking spot and hand deliver her the soup that might warm her up a bit. I loaded up the bags into a larger bag, got myself and my daughter bundled and zipped up to start walking over to her. As we approached, though, she was gone. Vanished. Seemingly into thin air. So we walked further on.
As we neared Powell’s Bookstore, I noticed an elderly gentleman selling papers. I knew from a distance the newspaper was ‘Street Roots’ the paper sold by the homeless in order for them to earn an honest wage. The paper sells for $1.00 with 25 cents going to the production of the paper and the remaining 75 cents to the individual selling it. He had the sweetest, gentlest face and spirit and I’d have loved to give him a giant hug…but I’m not quite ready for that yet. :) I told him I didn’t have any change for a paper, but I’d love to give him some goodies to eat. He said thank you several times and gave me a paper as more than a fare trade for what I’ve provided for him. He greeted my daughter, we wished each other a good evening and kept walking to see who else we could find.
We walked around the same few block radius several times, and we found two other women, a sweet soft spoken gentleman without a nose [only a patch covered it], a gentleman in a wheelchair, two younger kids playing tunes on their guitars for change, an exhuberantly happy gentleman outside of Whole Foods who actually seemed shocked at such generosity (he kept yelling THANK YOU! THANK YOU! down the sidewalk as we walked away…like it was Christmas!), and last but not least, another gentleman also selling ‘Street Roots’ on the other side of Powell’s Book Store.
This last fella, I avoided. We walked by and around him several times because he seemed a bit off. He was a bit more outgoing than I was comfortable with and I was uncomfortable with the way he interacted with others. Not in a bad way…but I’m a bit more introverted and passive and struggle in general with those who are quite a bit more vivacious and just OUT THERE, than I am. Each time we walked by my conviction grew stronger and stronger… Did Jesus ever pass anybody by because they looked or acted a bit odd? Actually…He spent most of His time with folks like this…the more obvious outcasts. When I had one bag left to deliver, we were very near my truck and it was starting to sprinkle and it would have been very easy for me to disregard him and get into my truck, but I couldn’t stop thinking…what if that was Jesus? So we walked up to him and I let him know I didn’t have change for a paper, but that I’d love to share some goodies for him to eat. He said, ‘OH, THANK YOU so much! I seem to spend a fortune on food!’ When there’s no money to be had, I suppose a five dollar meal would seem like a fortune.
I was a bit concerend about my daughter being with me, mostly from the standpoint of her little legs wearing out. I held onto her hand like a vice grip, but honestly, I didn’t have any fear of safety concerns. We were in a very public area, and I felt so content knowing that God sent me there…He was my shield and my guard. But when I asked her if she was ready to go, she said, ‘No. I want to give some more goodies to the people who don’t have homes.’ She never tired and was actually sad when we left because there were two more people she saw that we just have to bring goodie bags to!
All together we delivered 16 goodie bags today. I expected a few here and there. Didn’t expect at all that I’d talk to anyone or look anyone in the eye, but this is what I was so spun out about when I returned from Rwanda… we in America are so disconnected from what is really happening here. Until we look at our brothers and sisters in the eye and try to understand where they are coming from and why they are there… it will never become personal.
I pulled up on an off-ramp the other day and watched the car in front of me flick out a few coins on the ground at the homeless gentleman standing on the corner. And I watched the man bend down with sadness and shame etched into his face… Its bad enough to be in that place, but to have people look down upon and shame further… they have no idea. And that breaks my heart.
When I got home, I started reading the ‘Street Roots’ paper that I received from the first elderly gentleman. Interesting information in there… a story about a Portland Police Officer who will not rest until the case is solved for a homeless man who was murdered in 2008 [Praise the Lord for her advocacy]; a ministry of feet washing for the homeless by the Downtown Chapel; a story about the outgoing guy that I avoided in front of Powells [really!]; a story about those who collect cans for money and the risks involved with it; a hotel on Burnside torn down to make way for a new federal courthouse, a hotel that housed low income and homeless; life on the streets in San Francisco; quality of life [1st in a series of four about the country's anti-poor movement]; police, homeless, and mental health; easing the pain of holiday reunions; and a few other tid bits including a letter from a homeless woman that I will type here. We have no idea…unless we’ve walked a mile in someone else’s shoes. Alleviating homelessness is not always as simple as ‘just finding a job’.
Get a job? Who has the time? I spend my life standing in line, waiting to be clothed or fed, not knowing tonight where I’ll lay my head.
What was that? What did you say? Nothing to spare and I’m in the way? I’m begging as humbly as I possibly can. Its been a long day. Please understand. A million times my feet slap the ground. No reason to stop, no place to slow down. I pound the pavement from morning to night, easily spotting those with my plight.
Sleeping bags are a sure way to know that they haven’t any real place to go. Backpacks are always a dead giveaway, that they’ll be standing in some line today. Give them a nod, a laugh or a smile because if they’re standing in line, they’ll be there a while.
I just need a voucher or dollar or two, to wash my clothes so I won’t offend you. Three hours spent standing in line for five minutes to wash off the filth and the grime. I look to strangers for kindness each day, I need your help please don’t walk away. If you must keep walking, just pass me by, but don’t try to peek from the side of your eye. I search all day to find a safe place. Any hovel will do even the smallest of space, where I won’t be told to “get up and go,” where I won’t be frozen and wet head to toe.
With the curb as my pillow and the street as my home, I’m surrounded by people, but I’m always alone. I know that sometimes I may not seem “right,” please don’t be rude, it’s been a long night. If I bum a smoke or ask for your name, please don’t ignore me, my needs aren’t a game.
Poverty kills all hope and dreams, and being homeless is worse than I make it seem. No hope for a mate, a family or life, just me and the streets paved with heartache and strife. I keep on moving while tragically knowing, I’m headed nowhere with no place to go. I can escape to the mall or the airport sometimes and pretend for a minute that this nightmare is not mine.
Sheltered for a night, a moment not more, knowing the morning has nothing in store. I’m not ungrateful, don’t get me wrong, its just been a long month, it keeps dragging on. Trying to search my way out of this hell and forgetting that once my life was well.
All my efforts came crashing down. I lost my house and my life without a sound. If my house had burned down or a tornado had hit, it would’ve been easier than my notice to quit. All I want is a place of my own, nothing great just a spot to call home. I don’t mean to sound trite when you have to say no, its just been a long life and I’ve nowhere to go.
So please be kind tis been a long year, one of these days it could be you standinghere. I pray to the Lord it’ll all end in time, and I will finally reach the end of this line.
~Alethea Drake, Portland
