Truly Seeing

When it comes to encountering the homeless, I have mixed feelings. I grew up with a handicapped father whose life mottoes included pulling yourself up from your bootstraps, not falling prey to your circumstances, life is what you make of it, that whole shebang. So when I see my brother or sister with a handwritten cardboard sign at a stoplight, I have the why can't they get a job thought, followed by the I would give them money but I don't know what I'm truly funding thought. Then I have what I might call my Christian sympathy. If Jesus was walking the earth today, wouldn't he interact with the homeless? He wouldn't pass by them in his car, unsure of if he should give or not give.

So, knowing that about me, I met a very nice homeless man the other day. My friend Madi and I were sitting on a bench outside of Starbucks, enjoying the afternoon sun, when a man walking his bike, stopped to talk to us.

It was clear by the cardboard sign tucked under his arm and his worn clothing that he was at the very least begging if not homeless.

So he stopped to talk to us, commenting on our coffee and talking about though he's grown up on the streets he can't give up his coffee.

Normally I would have a tight smile and might try to give hints to end the conversation but there was something different about this man, he was nice to talk to. He asked if I went to school around Westwood (I get it all the time, I have the skin of a 17-year-old) and I told him I was a high school teacher. He talked about his mom and how she was a teacher and how he rarely paid attention in school because he had his mom to teach him.

He said in school he studied the clouds outside, not giving much of a care to what his teachers were teaching. I could picture a younger version of this man, sitting at his desk at school, gazing out the window at the shapes of the clouds. The man before me had weathered, leathery skin that had seen many winter nights and summer days, and I couldn't help but think of my students. Were any of them slipping through the cracks of school, destined to a life like this man?

He continued to talk about getting kicked out of the house early and getting into all sorts of trouble thereafter.

And then he asked for my name. Jacky. Short for Jacquelyn? Yup.

And he asked for Madi's. Short for Madeline? Madison.

He nodded and gripped the handlebars of his bike like he might be finished with this conversation.

I asked what his name was. George.

George and I talked for another 10 minutes about his name and getting called George of the Jungle and Curious George and even though some of his words slurred together and at some points he lost his train of thought, I really enjoyed talking to George, and I've thought of him almost every day since.

Our greatest human desires are to be seen and to be known. So maybe instead of treating homelessness like it's either a desire to work or not to work or a will to make something of oneself or a state of complacency, I can just be content to know people, to ask for their names and tell them mine, to listen.

If you didn't go to the Skate Church you might not know Jeff, who can be seen sitting beside a cardboard sign or walking all throughout West Seattle, especially the Junction area. I may have met Jeff over a dozen times and he still doesn't remember me, but he's a person. More than that he's the man who, when the church was invited to my best friend's wedding, found a suit and attended her wedding sober.

I want to begin to treat people like people, what a concept. Jesus had meaningful, intention interactions with people and I want to live the same way. Lord guide my steps and my words. Help me to love people as you did.

Unsung Hero

I have a new unsung hero. Normally my heroes are writers throughout time who put themselves out there and make their words known--Tolstoy, you're my homeboy--but they aren't my focus today.

Today my unsung hero is a 17-year-old girl who just gave up her baby for adoption.

Backtrack.

There's a young lady in my life who didn't plan to get pregnant but life happened and she found herself in a tough situation. Halfway through her term she switched to online school and didn't come around youth group so it wasn't until this last week that I saw her for the first time in a while.

I had the privilege of giving her a ride home and we caught up. She spent two days with her healthy baby boy before she handed him over to the adoptive family that she chose.

The more I talked to her the more apparent it became to me that this girl grew up fast. This was not the giggly teenager I knew from months ago, she had matured through this situation.

She told me that her deciding factor in choosing adoption was when she found out that her baby was a boy. She had been told how important it was for a boy to grow up with a father. She couldn't give him that and she wanted to give him his best chance.

I was awestruck. When had this teenage girl grown up and become so sacrificial?

As she told me about this Christian couple that she had chosen for her son, this couple who were unable to have children on their own, I could see how God beautifully orchestrated this open adoption.

So I dropped off this young lady at home, told her how proud I was of her, and I cried the whole way home. I could not believe how selfless this young lady had become, wanting the best for her son, even if it meant she wouldn't be the one to raise him. (Note: I also have some brave young ladies in my life who are choosing to raise their babies and I have nothing but love and respect for them.)

I cried and cried and could not stop, especially when this verse came to mind:

John 3:16 "For God so loved the world that he gave up his only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life."

For the first time in a long time I was actually able to feel the weight of this verse. God loved us so he gave. He gave up his only Son so that those who believe in Him could have eternal life.

And I cried and I cried. How could God do that? How could He give us his only Son that we would accuse and beat and crucify. I wept with gratitude and with a lack of understanding thanked God for His sacrifice, for his Son.

And I thanked him for this young lady in my life who showed me what sacrificial love can look like.