| Sunday, 7 September 2008 |
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I was watching my favourite reality show this morning. You know, Extreme Make-over: Home Edition. The team was down in New Mexico doing a build for a family who'd moved into a crime-ridden neighborhood and almost single-handedly were turning it around and were putting their all into rehabilitating it and ministering to the homeless and needy people. During the expositional 'meet the family' segment at the beginning Ty asked the dad why he did it. I found his response particularly touching, the love he so eloquently expressed for the people he and his family were so dedicated to helping. But what most captured my imagination was what he called them.
Broken people. It sounded so sad, yet so apt, very evocative and strangely poetic. Broken, but not valueless. Worth the effort. That was how he saw them, and his passion, his deep rooted respect for a segment of humanity most of us more than likely walk on by without even considering, I found it very inspiring, and that spirit of incredible generosity and acceptance driving him, I wanted to understand it better.
I thought a lot about what I had seen and learned as the day progressed, then decided to take a short jaunt to the new grocery story only ten minutes walk from my place, to pick up a few things. On my way back I got a small surprise.
That old 'be careful what you wish for' thing? Sometimes it works really fast!
I was a couple of blocks away from my house when a very scruffy looking, back-pack toting man on a bike drew up to the curb beside me. Obviously a street person. He was very polite, apologizing profusely for bothering me, and assuring me I didn't need to be afraid of him (which I wasn't). He made a request of me, I gave him what he wanted, a civil enough exchange, still on the impersonal side, and that might have been the end of it, except…
Maybe it was because I looked him in the eye, maybe he sensed I wasn't judging him, but whatever it was, he suddenly started talking to me, and I listened. He told me he hadn't always been like this, homeless, once he had a life, a good career, a family, and somehow he'd lost his way. He wanted to turn his life around, to get off the streets, and I tried to be encouraging, telling him if that's what he really wanted, he could do it. We talked a bit longer, he sang me a song he'd written himself, about his life and for just a fleeting second I understood what Gerald Martinez had been talking about. No matter what he looked like, no matter how far apart we were in circumstances, though he was broken and wandering down a hard and comfortless road – not valueless. Not beyond hope and definitely not beyond redemption. He yearned and felt and dreamed and in that, we weren't so different.
The moment passed, he thanked me for my kindness; I thanked him for the gift of his song. We went our separate ways. I hope I gave him encouragement and a measure of self-respect in addition to some small change, but what he gave me; I definitely think I got the better part of the bargain.
He gave me a piece of himself, and a profound lesson in respect and tolerance, as well as a greater understanding of the value of each individual human being.
No matter our particular circumstances, we are all special, each one unique, we all have value. We have to look beyond the surface, and reach out when we can, because any kindness, no matter how small, could be of incalculable importance.
Now, I'm not saying what I did on that street corner in any way compared to the way that incredible family in Albuquerque are making a difference, but for me, it was a small step along the road to greater understanding. I have no idea to what extent our exchange affected him; odds are I will probably never know. But I will remember him, and hold the hope he will find the way to be the man he wants to be. And who knows, miracles happen every day, perhaps the universe has one in store for him.
Here's hoping.
Phoenix |
posted by The White Dove Partnership @ 19:47  |
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