Recently, I was driving through a shopping center when I saw a homeless man. This was not the first time I have seen him. He is our local "townie" and I see him at least once a week, shuffling across the bridge, wearing the same shabby clothes and sporting a long beard that is as matted and grey as the locks that cover his shoulders. Sometimes, I pity him. Most of the time, I see him like the sailboats and palm trees, just part of the usual backdrop of the trip to my comfortable life in the suburbs.
That day in the shopping center was different. As I drove by the grocery store, I quickly covered my mouth in disgust, as I saw the townie, scooping morsels of rubbish into his mouth. I thought about the maggots, parasites, and other dwellers inside of that trash can. I considered how desperate I would have to be to reach into festering trash in the heat of summer for a bite to eat. I wondered how long it had been since the townie had eaten. I thought about buying him something to eat, but then remembered I had my 4 year old in the car with me. I considered it a risk for me to talk to this man, especially with a child on my arm. The next time I see him, I vowed, I will buy him lunch. Accelerating my van forward, I felt good about my oath to help the homeless. A small voice from the backseat interrupted my justification to put off feeding the hungry.
"Mommy, why is that man digging in the trash can?"
"He doesn't have anything to eat."
"Then, we should buy him some lunch, Mom."
I have never heard the audible voice of God, but I thought about the verse that says, "From the lips of children and infants you have ordained praise..." (Ps. 8:2) Out of my son's lips came the wisdom of God and I could not let the opportunity to feed this man get away.
So, after a trip to a drive thru restaurant, we were off in search of the townie who needed some lunch. By this time, he was walking down his usual route toward the bridge. Finding the first available parking spot, I put the van in lock down mode and firmly whispered, "Stay in your carseat and do not call out to me."
My hand shook as I approached the familiar stranger and passed him the extra value meal we had purchased.
"We thought you could use some lunch," I curtly said.
His fingers were dirty, his nails even filthier, but his smile was gracious as he quietly thanked me and took his lunch.
As we drove away, the townie sat in the same spot I met him and devoured his cheeseburger.
"He was hungry," my son observed, "Good thing you gave him that lunch, Mom."
Not wanting to let this teachable moment get away, I quickly let him know that Jesus says to give food to people who don't have any.
"Does he have a house, Mom?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Maybe we could give him some money to buy a house, too, " my son suggested with the same ordained innocence as before.
Someday, he will understand, I thought, and what a sad thing that he will.
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I've meant to comment on this post for months now. Oh - you know - we stay - at - home moms have nothing to do anyway :)...... Anyway - Marcello and I had a similar situation present itself way back when Olivia was an impressionable first grader. She was full of questions, full of ideas - wondered why we just handed out food and not money - again - because this couple we encountered had nowhere to stay, etc. Sometimes - what am I saying?? - most of the time - there are no easy answers for anything. Recently, before a close friend's funeral, we found ourselves trying to explain to Olivia - having grown into an impressionable 12 year old - why this friend wanted her ashes spread in three different places, and why, as Olivia was taught in Catholic school, wasn't she being appropriately buried with family, etc. Frustrated, Marcello finally said - sometimes, people are best honored or remembered by being left where they were most happy in life - like we would probably spread mommy's ashes over a Starbucks or a Nordstrom. Point made ... :)
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