Homeless
When I was child, I would walk to elementary school. Each day I would pass a vacant lot where cars had been abandoned and where discarded people lived. Back then, we didn’t refer to these individuals as “homeless” or as “the unfortunate”, but rather as “winos”. I never actually witnessed any of them drinking wine or any other alcoholic beverage, but wino was the label they were given.
As I passed by the area, I couldn’t help but look at these men and women and their surroundings. I felt an unexplainable draw to them, and would often wonder why and how it was that they were in the circumstance that they were in. I wondered about the dreams that they must have once had for themselves. And more than anything else, I wondered what events had taken place in their lives for them to find themselves in the situation they were in.
Years later, I would find myself in a similar situation as theirs on more than one occasion. Sometimes it was out of choice as I traveled from state to state. Other times it was due to circumstance, the drawbacks of living from paycheck to paycheck coupled with the trapdoor of sudden unemployment.
When one becomes homeless, one quickly learns the value of perspective. This perspective is helpful in meeting the daily needs that we all require. There was a time when I was living in Alaska, where I was homeless for a short while. I was cold, tired, and hungry, but had heard from a friend that there was a church that served breakfast for those that came. We happily walked in the snow and slush to this church, and stood in line with the other men, women, and children.
As the church doors opened, we were told that we must sit through a brief sermon before the food would be served. There weren’t any complaints. My friend and I sat in the pew and quickly noticed that everyone else was sitting in the last two rows. We would learn soon enough that the food was served in the back of the room, and those sitting in the last rows would be the first in line. There would be enough food for all, but for those few that finished eating first, there was a good possibility of getting seconds.
In my jaunts around the Honolulu area, I see more and more of these men and women living on the streets. I also see families with small children. Their faces become familiar, as they usually can be found in the same places. Sometimes I will interact with them, looking into their eyes and wondering where they are. And sometimes they will look at me with the same wondering eyes, wondering where I am coming from.