As we set out I was thinking of the words of Christ in Matthew when he speaks to the people at the great judgment, and the people say “Lord, when did we see You hungry and feed You, or thirsty and give You drink?, and He replied “‘I tell you the truth, anything you did for even the least of my people here, you also did for me. “ I felt good about what we were doing, it felt right and I was excited.
Our first homeless person was spotted, lying on the cement, belongings strewn about them in various plastic bags, under a tree where there was some shade. My son and I exited the car, him with a pizza and me with some bottles of water and approached. As we got closer I realized that the person lying on the concrete was a woman, approximately 50 to 60 years of age.
I heard her respond to my son’s question “would you like a fresh pizza?”, to which she said “obviously”, and “thank you”, and I asked her if she needed some water to which she replied “obviously” and “thank you”.
I told her why we were there, that my son’s brother in arms had fallen in Afghanistan three years ago today, and that we were remembering him by sharing kindness with others. She looked up at my son and said “I am sorry for your loss”, and “thank you for your service”.
Then she reached up her hand and I took it in mine, and the barriers fell, the scales dropped from my eyes and I saw her, saw how she obviously tried to keep herself clean and respectable looking, she was dressed in slacks and a big fluffy shirt, her hands were wrinkled and worn, despite her best efforts at cleanliness she was dirty and smelly, she was stretched out on the concrete using various bits of clothing to cushion herself. As our hands gripped she began to speak, saying she had done everything she could, she did not know what to do anymore. She said she wanted to go home but she couldn’t because someone else was living in her house. I asked her name and she said “Glenna”, and the balance of the scales fell from my eyes, now she was Glenna, not just “a homeless person”, but a homeless person with a name. My heart burst into pieces. As she clutched my hand and I hers I asked if I could pray with her, and she agreed.
I do not remember exactly what I prayed, only the overwhelming feelings I felt as I prayed, my voice choking on tears, overcome with the knowledge that I was unequipped to meet the needs of Glenna and our paltry pizza and bottles of water were not even coming close to meeting the great needs of this poor forgotten person, this broken old lady. I felt dirty and unclean and the feeling had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that I was gripping the hands of an unwashed homeless person. The feeling was internal, a deep understanding of my own unrighteousness, my pride that had dared to think that I was doing something good when in fact I was utterly helpless to do anything of value, that I had nothing to offer her that could be any long term value. Thankfully Christ does. Hopefully in some small way He used us to meet some of her need and even if we failed in meeting that need, He is able, and He is willing and I continue to pray that He will do so.
My prayer came to a close and she thanked me, tears flowing down her cheeks. She asked me to pray for her, that she would be able to go home to her house, her house on Eubank and Constitution. She said she has tried to go home, but someone else lives there now. She thanked us for the pizza and the water and she wept as she thanked us for lifting her up to Jesus. It was difficult to walk away, I felt helpless and hopeless and useless as we walked back to our air conditioned car.
The afternoon progressed, we passed out pizza and water to various homeless persons that we found along the way but for me, the day began and ended with Glenna.
Lest anyone think that I tell this story in order to demonstrate the goodness of my heart, and to show how righteous and holy I am, assure you this is not the case. I am still processing all that God is trying to teach me from this event. My own self-righteousness was exposed, something I had thought I had eradicated for the most part. I do not feel good about my encounter with Glenna. We gave her food, we gave her drink, we prayed with her, and yet I feel as if I stuck a Band-Aid on a gaping wound, and walked away, the blood still gushing out, the person still in grievous danger. I left with a deep feeling of inadequacy , a feeling that Jesus wants more of me, He wants it all, and where I had the assumption that all that I am has been given to Him. In truth there is so very much that is held back.
As we drove about the city, I observed all the new high rise apartments, expensive and highly coveted for they give the opportunity to live the downtown scene in Albuquerque. Underneath them, in the shadows, behind the bushes, are the forgotten ones, the homeless. So many of them have mental issues, some of them are drug addicts and drunks; some are just people down on their luck, all of them visible if you look, but few look.
The city of Albuquerque has been working hard to eradicate these forgotten ones. They have moved their tents time and time again, pushed them out of the places where they gather to rest, posted signs all about the city urging people not to give them money and yet no one has asked the question “where shall they go?”, there is not enough shelters for the amount of homeless we have, and there is no assistance for their mental health issues.
Sometimes I think that we truly do not want to see them, when we do we are prone to hand them five dollars, or buy them a meal, and then we can go about our lives and feel better about ourselves because we demonstrated a little kindness. Yet the problem remains. I do not know what the answer is; I am not even sure I have yet grasped the question. All I know is that I met a homeless lady named Glenna, and she wants desperately to go home to the house that she no longer lives in…….someone else lives in her house now. In meeting her, in praying for her, my own inadequacies and sins were laid bare, the shining wrappings that cover them ripped off and the realities exposed.
I gripped the hands of Christ today. I left Him lying on the hard concrete, on a hot day in the Albuquerque sun, I left Him with three bottles of water and a pizza………and a prayer.
I am still trying to process all this.
Good deeds for DeMar, in memory of Michael DeMarisco who gave his life for his brothers on August 16th, 2012 in Afghanistan. He was a beautiful young man, his family misses him so, and his brothers in arms miss him so. Rest in peace DeMar, and thank you for the lessons learned today.