Wednesday afternoon: Leaving a client's in an upscale part of my beloved city, I notice the air had significantly chilled over the last few hours. At the last minute I decide to take a different route home, (I'm the daughter of a man that loved to take a different route to "see what we'll find"...)
As I drove down NW Everett St there were several young men on the sidewalk, laughing and shouting back and forth to each other, At first I thought they were meeting up, old friends glad to see each other, but then they stopped interacting, sat down on the sidewalk and grew silent. As I drew closer I could see their eyes were red, their beards scruffy and full, their clothes stained and torn.
My thoughts went to the men, women, boys and girls in my family and how much I love them all... grateful that none are on the street.
Then I began to wonder...
how did these young men end up on the street?
what is their story?
if I asked, when you were a child what did you dream about doing? can they remember?
do they have any hope?
At a stop light, I see a young woman standing at the entrance of a makeshift, blue tarp lean-to. It's butted up to a chain link fence along the sidewalk and the tarp ripples from the cold breeze. She reaches her hand in and as she withdraws it I could see the tiny packet of drugs. Her back was to me... her hair beautiful; long and dark and curly. Her stance and movements made me think, she's just a young woman.
My heart paled as I thought ,
where is her family?
why has she left them?
has she left them or are they out here too?
how did she get here?
I flipped on the radio, I suppose as a way to divert my wondering about the people I saw. My mind was racing... I needed a distraction, a Thanksgiving story.
They were telling a story, but not the kind I was looking for. -
"More than 21,000 students in Oregon public schools are homeless — nearly 4 percent of the student population."
Again my heart paled as I thought...
does that include the babies? (No, this is just school age kids)
do they have warm clothes and blankets?
do they have food... is it nutritious?
just where do they sleep? they can't get a warm bath.....
My thoughts were spiraling. I decided to do an errand I had been putting off. (I'm really good at distracting myself... aren't we all?)
Recently someone asked me why I am the way I am. It made me feel angry.
Meaning,
why do I have concern for others that have less then I do and
why do I care about their plight?
Why?
I don't know, its just my heart, I care.
Musing with a friend, he said... Lisa, this is you, it's just you. It's how God made you.
So, that is what I will embrace, it is just me.
So this is my plan.
I'll continue to look for ways to help others and whisper a prayer for them as I drive along or help at the food pantry. I'll smile from my heart with my eyes and give people dignity, that which we all deserve.
- Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours. Wherever you live I hope you can find many things to be thankful for.
Norman Rockwell/Artist
Photo Credit/Oregon Public Radio/NPR station
