We saw lots of different kinds of people on Sunday. Very few families. Mostly older men, followed by older women. There were also a few teens. While it was a diverse crowd, culturally - the majority were white. Not sure that is what the average homeless population is but for this area, it was.
This man in particular, caught my eye. He was one who elected to sit at the tables provided by the church. As I am processing all that I saw, it seems even more courageous that any one would sit at those tables. Everyone knows nothing is free. These people know the drill - trade a meal for having to listening to the Jesus talk. Imagine they can quote the Bible as well if not better than many church people. I imagine that the Story he might tell might be one of loss and choices. He was particularly striking to me because he looked like my dad, right down to the garbage bag.
My father was homeless for a time. It was a story of loss and choices. It is difficult to allow someone in your life to live this life but Sometimes, you don't have a choice. I did not have a choice, I had to pick the safety of my family first. We both made the choices we did because there was no other way. I would not change a thing, I can't speak for him. My experience with the homeless is of the alcohol kind. The ones who would choose booze over everything else. Is it a disease or a choice? If I put in context with my chocolate pudding obsession, I get it. Addiction is a mistress, no matter which one you choose. I make no judgement, everyone should be allowed to choose, but we each have to live with the consequences.
Still working my way through the day. I have a ton of photos and think I will make the kids a book to remember the day by. Today we sold my husband's motorcycle. I went to coffee with good friends. I went back to my normal life but everywhere I went, I took this man with me. I took my dad with me. Somedays are like that, reminders are everywhere. Somedays, you have to look back, if just for a while...
