More Valuable Than Money
Day 4: Walking in the shoes of the homeless and unemployed
A thought occurred to me today as I walked the downtown streets of Providence. Over the past few years, I would give homeless individuals change as I passed them by foot on the sidewalk or by car on the street. Admittedly, during my two years in Barcelona with a loaded savings account, I would mumble to myself, “Go get a job.” However, once I returned to the States and moved in with my mother while I pursued my graduate degree, reorganized my consulting business, and founded the Coalition, I changed my tune. I knew I was full of myself during the times I made those insensitive comments. I knew it was pre-judgmental, inhumane, ungodly, and simply wrong.
I was pretty adept at identifying those who were homeless. Now, however, my senses are much keener, my awareness broader. I can no longer give them change. All I can give them is direct eye contact that says you and your situation are not invisible to me; a smile that says I acknowledge you has a human being; and a hello that says the subtext behind my eye contact and my smile is sincere.
Looking back to when I volunteered at homeless shelters and dedicated my life to serving the community via the Coalition, I realize how I was a little arrogant. Yes, my desire to volunteer, help, and give back was sincere. Nonetheless, I did regard the people I helped with slightly downcast eyes and thought them or poor them, meaning different from me with my two-story house and engineer’s salary.
The truth is we are all the same. We always have been, only I am just realizing that truth in this moment. Fully and deeply realizing it in the core of my being. We may have different occupations, different salary grades, different modes of transportation, and different types of housing. Still, we all have the same value as a people of the human race, as representatives of God’s creation.
Every human has the right to be valued for simply being human.
Lesson for Community Leaders
As a leader in the community, it is imperative for me to know the plight of the individuals and families that I am called to help. This authentic Walk in the shoes of the homeless and unemployed has given me perspective that I did not realize I needed. It’s a humbling experience to say the least, but I understand that God has placed me in this situation so that I may fulfill His vision.
Newest Members of My Family
I’m starting to feel offended by how people regard homeless individuals. Just now, as I type this message, a homeless man dressed in soiled, ragged clothes descended the stairs from the first floor to the ground level housing the bank of computers. He was speaking loudly in incoherent sentences, drawing even more attention to himself than his appearance alone. The young, college-aged girl on staff in the computer lab looked up at him and rolled her eyes with an audible groan of distaste.
Her reaction and the stares of the other computer users ignited an unexpected anger inside me. After just four days of living in the shelter and interacting with the residents on a more humble, personal level, I feel like they are my brethren, my brothers and sisters—my family. And I protect my family.
Humbling = Eating My Own Words
Humbling. I returned to the dorm and stood at the sink to get some water. Robin (one of my roommates) said, “They brought up a box of pastry.” I opened the cardboard cake box and my eyes widened with excitement at the sight of biscotti, blueberry muffins, and… uh… what was that? A roach? A roach!
“Eew, there’s a roach in there!” I exclaimed with an expected amount of distaste. Only, I wanted to swallow my words a few moments later. My roommate did not even flinch, did not acknowledge the disgust in my words. Instead, she took another deliberate bite of her blueberry muffin, chewed slowly and thoroughly, and swallowed. In that moment, I felt so uppity, so insensitive, so stuck on myself. Food was there alongside hungry people. The food filled a need. They ate it.
I quickly isolated myself in the small lounge area on the other side of the dorm.
Dear God, I whispered in disbelief as reality smacked me across the face. Does it really come down to this? I thought. Is this my future reality—reaching a point where survival and the fulfillment of basic needs trumps discretionary practices and vanities?
Man, I hope not. I feel sad that others have been forced to renounce that luxury out of pure necessity. We don’t know how good we have it.
Copyright © 2010 Sapphire Jule King and International Freedom Coalition