We have been living in our duplex rental for over a month now. Only yesterday did I notice the generic railing hanging above the windows from which we can hang curtains. Somehow, for lack of attractive, designer rods, I had missed what we were given.
Although I still don't love this house, I am trying to be thankful. It is not ours for keeps, but it is ours for now.
I am still walking, daily when I can, around this city. Learning and relearning how to get from one point to another. Always I see a needy population, somehow intermingled with the college students and the red Solo cups smashed on their lawns, and the residents who will continue to live here long after we have left. The latter with tricycles and play sets in their yards. And I think about how everyone of us is co-existing in the place and how grateful that I am that this will not be forever.
Around the homeless community, I feel very, extremely, uncomfortable. I don't think I was as uncomfortable around the homeless of LA when I lived in Silver Lake for a couple of years. I was in my early twenties and somehow I felt that God had given me a grace and safety concerning them. But here? And now? I fear them, am annoyed by them, and I judge them. Pretty much every time I see them.
It isn't something I want to do, but my heart is frightened and my head screams why??? Why are you living on a park bench? It is no stretch of the truth so say that becoming a mother has made me more scared. Precautious, maybe, but scared.
And still.
Halloween came and went and the boys and I filled sandwich bags with drinks and candy before placing them all into a basket, placing the basket on our front doorstep, and then off we went, proceeding to celebrate Halloween with cousins.
Pumpkin carvings, pumpkin dip, and It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, and we were on our way back home, eager to see if there was a good turn-out or not.
There was not. It's possible 10 bags were taken. Ten, maybe, out of 60. This was met with excitement from the backseat, where the boys envisioned getting drunk off of sugar drinks and candy bars, but it bothered me. We don't need more. More candy. More sugar. Always more.
Somewhere in the ping-pong of my mind, it occurred to me that, indeed, we don't need it, but there are others who would be delighted to have it- our local homeless.
Thoughts of approaching them, praying for them and asking them for their names while shaking their hands filled my mind. Very Mother Therea of me. I opted, instead, for a box.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN, it read.
NO TRICKS, JUST TREATS!
Zeplin, Demitri, and Thatcher all aided in the filling of the box, coloring in of the letters, and adding a little decor. It was perfect. And with this, off we went, box in tow, and, placed it with precision on a table well known to the homeless community. We encouraged the seeing eyes around us to "enjoy".
Simple, really, but it was also profound.
Instead of backing away from a people group I struggle with, I can offer grace, love, and a simple
I see you.
Last night I filled more sandwich bags. With Halloween and birthday splendor, we, once again, had our fill of sugar and, much to the dissatisfaction of my boys, it was time to ship it out. We see them on corners often, holding signs. There is a near-blind man with his dog. I once offered him a bottle of water and a banana. Noticing his dog, I offered him a second bottle of water and his delight was tangible.
Perhaps we can offer a little sweetness to those in help. Perhaps we can offer love in the form of a Twizzler and a Snickers mini.
Big Strong Man is cleaning the garage as I type. We are celebrating Zeplin today, after turning 10 this week. We are celebrating with family. With pizza. With cupcakes; Chocolate and Banana.
We can offer lots of sweetness, and there is no shortage to go around.
As he cleaned the garage, mostly Mumford and Sons playing, another song came on. A song which stopped me, just for the moment, as it reminded me of a specific time in my life. A time after Los Angeles and before marriage. A song which I could pinpoint in a heartbeat. The Fray's You Found Me played and my heart soared- much like the reassuring lullaby sung over a baby.
I am not alone.
The homeless are not alone.
We are not alone.
You found me, God.
You found me.
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