I Blew It!

Today I was reminded of a conundrum I face living here in a progressive, liberal community that offers many free services: homelessness.  At every exit in the area stands a person or two, signs facing oncoming traffic. 

"Veteran.  Homeless. Please Help." 

"Down and Out.  Homeless.  Anything Will Help."

My favorite, "Single Mother with Cancer.  Please Help." (Please tell me you hear my sarcasm.)

I sit in my car, with my cell phone, bags of groceries, and I feel guilty.  Have I given in to this guilt?  Sure!  I even gave one guy $20.00 to go buy food; then I watched him pocket it and stand there to beg some more.

The local authorities have put out the word:  there are many who beg on the corners of this city who are not homeless.  In fact, they've made such a business out of begging that they have apartments, paid for by Joe Public.  We do have a huge homeless population, but there are services available all over the place:  from free beds, to free food, to plain old shelter from a cold or rainy day.  Many groups are dedicated to offering free employment training and services, healthcare, and steps off the street.  Many who are homeless are chronically so, mostly because they do not want to be confined.  They don't want to be put inside, trapped by society and by their own minds.  They face issues such as drugs, manic depression, bipolar disorder, and schizophrenia that compound the problem of homelessness. 

So I ignore my guilt, keep my hands on the wheel, and avert my eyes.

And then today…

Coming out of church, a beautiful service focusing on planting seeds of faith in humanity, a man stands at the gate, sign in hand:  "Homeless.  Anything Will Help.  God Bless."

And I feel anger.  How dare he?  How dare he come here to beg, when I donate at this same place with groceries, goods, and money to help local groups that can help him?  How dare he throw in my face that these organizations don't solve the problem?  How dare he make me feel guilt for my comfortable life?  "Uncool," I say to my child next to me, "He should go to the center down the road where they can help him without him putting young children at risk."  And part of me feels this is justified.  Not only is this a church, but it's a school, and in today's world we have to be ultra-vigilant about who is near our children.  But the other part of me knows how wrong I am.

How dare I?  How dare I ignore him?  Why don't I take the time to get to know his story?  Why don't I stop and talk to him?  He is a human being?  Maybe if I met him down the road I could buy him a meal.  Maybe if I knew his story, I could help him find some real help. 

I missed the lesson of the day: plant the seeds and allow them to grow.  Instead, I stunted the growth.  I showed my son the wrong lesson.  I had the chance to teach him compassion and caring, and I blew it.  (At least I realized it soon enough to tell him I blew it, and explain why.)

Since I can't go back, I only hope that another person was better than I today.  I hope that next time I step up and become a better member of my community – my human community.