I met a lady last week at the park. She was fussing around her two-door coupe with about three feet of stuff attached to the hood of her car with a big blue tarp. It was pretty obvious that she was living in her car, and I wondered if she had recently gotten evicted from her home. As I was at the park with my husband and kids, I tried to talk myself out of going over to talk to her.
You see, I'm terrible about talking to strangers. Always have been, but at the same time, it's easy to talk to people that have other kids like yourself where your conversation never goes farther than the weather and kid stuff. It's a totally different thing to talk to someone who appears to be hurting and open yourself up to being someone that they can really talk to. There's a sense of commitment there that I wasn't so sure I wanted to give myself over to.
But, then, there is the Holy Spirit. Working in my life. Urging me on. Telling me that what I do "for the least of these" I do for Him. I knew that if I didn't go over and talk to her that I would be sinning against what He was asking me to do. So, I did. And, I met Sheri.
Sheri is a single gal who has been living out of her car for at least a couple of months after her life started to unravel about six months ago. She has two large dogs that also live in her coupe (something I didn't notice at my first glance). She was out of her car trying to make her space more aesthetically pleasing, and she was enjoying one of our first sunny spring days in Seattle. I asked her how she was doing, and she was thankful that I asked.
Do you know what she told me? She was doing okay. She was trying to make life work for her in her current situation and be happy in her circumstances. She was trying to deal with the hurt and pain of what found her in the place she was in, but she was trying not to blame others. She had some sort of faith, but I'm not sure that she yet had a personal relationship with Jesus.
You know what was hard, though? People judging her. People looking at the massive load on top of her little car, and telling her that she could go and donate it all to the Goodwill down the street. She also did all of her sleeping in the daytime and driving at night because it wasn't safe for her to sleep when it was dark for fear of thieves, etc.
We had a good conversation. I was able to encourage her the little I could, and she liked meeting my boys when it was time for us to go home. I told her about another park that might be better for her to camp at, and I invited her to church. I prayed with her. After our 40 minute conversation, I said good-bye, not sure if I'd see her again.
That night, I couldn't sleep. I was in a warm house in a comfortable bed with a loving family. I had had a nice filling HOT dinner. Things that I take for granted daily. But Sheri didn't have these things. I never could visualize homelessness before. Yes, I've seen the people begging at the street corners, but I've always been afraid of giving money to them as I didn't know how they'd use it. I usually try to keep granola bars in my car for such occasions that I once was nicknamed "Granola Lady" by a man that I used to pass by every day when I would go pick up Phil from the bus station. But I had never actually met someone before.
The next day, I decided to drive by the park I recommended to see if she was there. She was, but she was asleep. I left a note on her window.
On Friday, I drove by again, and she was still there. I invited her to go to the Y with me so that she could maybe get a chance to shower, but as it was daytime, she was super tired. She also wasn't so sure about leaving her dogs. I gave her some water, and I reminded her about church.
I didn't get a chance to see her on Saturday, and on Sunday, I anxiously waited to see if she would come to our church. She didn't, and I was devastated. I cried for a long time because Sheri was now someone I loved. And she wasn't there. I went back to the park that afternoon. She was gone.
My biggest regret? I didn't give her my phone number. I didn't want that level of commitment. Who cares that I give it out to complete strangers when arranging Craigslist ads or random forms I have to fill out. I was concerned about giving it to a homeless person simply because she was homeless. What if she wanted more from me than I was able to give? I realize now that I was being selfish. I wasn't acting Christ-like. And now she's gone. I can't undo what I never did.
At our first meeting she told me something else. Today is her 40th birthday. Happy Birthday, Sheri! I hope I find you again.
You see, I'm terrible about talking to strangers. Always have been, but at the same time, it's easy to talk to people that have other kids like yourself where your conversation never goes farther than the weather and kid stuff. It's a totally different thing to talk to someone who appears to be hurting and open yourself up to being someone that they can really talk to. There's a sense of commitment there that I wasn't so sure I wanted to give myself over to.
But, then, there is the Holy Spirit. Working in my life. Urging me on. Telling me that what I do "for the least of these" I do for Him. I knew that if I didn't go over and talk to her that I would be sinning against what He was asking me to do. So, I did. And, I met Sheri.
Sheri is a single gal who has been living out of her car for at least a couple of months after her life started to unravel about six months ago. She has two large dogs that also live in her coupe (something I didn't notice at my first glance). She was out of her car trying to make her space more aesthetically pleasing, and she was enjoying one of our first sunny spring days in Seattle. I asked her how she was doing, and she was thankful that I asked.
Do you know what she told me? She was doing okay. She was trying to make life work for her in her current situation and be happy in her circumstances. She was trying to deal with the hurt and pain of what found her in the place she was in, but she was trying not to blame others. She had some sort of faith, but I'm not sure that she yet had a personal relationship with Jesus.
You know what was hard, though? People judging her. People looking at the massive load on top of her little car, and telling her that she could go and donate it all to the Goodwill down the street. She also did all of her sleeping in the daytime and driving at night because it wasn't safe for her to sleep when it was dark for fear of thieves, etc.
We had a good conversation. I was able to encourage her the little I could, and she liked meeting my boys when it was time for us to go home. I told her about another park that might be better for her to camp at, and I invited her to church. I prayed with her. After our 40 minute conversation, I said good-bye, not sure if I'd see her again.
That night, I couldn't sleep. I was in a warm house in a comfortable bed with a loving family. I had had a nice filling HOT dinner. Things that I take for granted daily. But Sheri didn't have these things. I never could visualize homelessness before. Yes, I've seen the people begging at the street corners, but I've always been afraid of giving money to them as I didn't know how they'd use it. I usually try to keep granola bars in my car for such occasions that I once was nicknamed "Granola Lady" by a man that I used to pass by every day when I would go pick up Phil from the bus station. But I had never actually met someone before.
The next day, I decided to drive by the park I recommended to see if she was there. She was, but she was asleep. I left a note on her window.
On Friday, I drove by again, and she was still there. I invited her to go to the Y with me so that she could maybe get a chance to shower, but as it was daytime, she was super tired. She also wasn't so sure about leaving her dogs. I gave her some water, and I reminded her about church.
I didn't get a chance to see her on Saturday, and on Sunday, I anxiously waited to see if she would come to our church. She didn't, and I was devastated. I cried for a long time because Sheri was now someone I loved. And she wasn't there. I went back to the park that afternoon. She was gone.
My biggest regret? I didn't give her my phone number. I didn't want that level of commitment. Who cares that I give it out to complete strangers when arranging Craigslist ads or random forms I have to fill out. I was concerned about giving it to a homeless person simply because she was homeless. What if she wanted more from me than I was able to give? I realize now that I was being selfish. I wasn't acting Christ-like. And now she's gone. I can't undo what I never did.
At our first meeting she told me something else. Today is her 40th birthday. Happy Birthday, Sheri! I hope I find you again.
Comments
Post a Comment