A Great Divide
Week 2
I am sitting on the steps talking to Bob. He was in the Naval Reserves during Vietnam. He has a degree in political science and history. He can name all of the countries and capitals in South America. He hasn't eaten since Sunday, but when someone brings him some food, he shares it.
I spoke to another girl from the church, about my age, who used to volunteer with the homeless on the steps. She said her favorite part of the job was watching the people's faces as they walk past the people sitting on the steps. I decided to make it a point to observe the same during the night.
As I sit listening to Bob, enjoying the stories about communication systems in the 1960's, I am partially turned towards him and partially facing the street and the people passing by my new friends and me. One woman does the sign of the cross on her chest. Some stare forward. Many turn, glance, and continue. Often, I can see a little shudder, a quickening of the pace, or a shift to the opposite side of an empty sidewalk lane.
And much to my horror, one person (and thank God only one person) stops, faces the steps and points. "I can't believe anyone allows this! This is disgusting! How can this be allowed?! People, just sitting all over... uh!! Ridiculous! I can't believe it!"
The steps have rules. They are a community, and probably the best run community in all of New York City. These steps are not a zoo. These steps are not for filthy animals. People live on these steps. People who can hear. People who can see. People who can think. People who feel, deeply.
I never ask for my life to change. I never realize the things that I don't know. I know the places that I have not visited. Two weeks ago, I knew that I had not sat on the steps and talked with these men. Now, I cannot just walk past and I do not quicken my pace. God only needs an open heart to make big changes. After only two weeks, I am excited to see how I will be used throughout my work here.
After the woman walks away, Joe, the outreach coordinator, turn to me and says "A month ago that woman was here, falling down drunk, and trying to get this younger guy to come home with her on the bus."
I am sitting on the steps talking to Bob. He was in the Naval Reserves during Vietnam. He has a degree in political science and history. He can name all of the countries and capitals in South America. He hasn't eaten since Sunday, but when someone brings him some food, he shares it.
I spoke to another girl from the church, about my age, who used to volunteer with the homeless on the steps. She said her favorite part of the job was watching the people's faces as they walk past the people sitting on the steps. I decided to make it a point to observe the same during the night.
As I sit listening to Bob, enjoying the stories about communication systems in the 1960's, I am partially turned towards him and partially facing the street and the people passing by my new friends and me. One woman does the sign of the cross on her chest. Some stare forward. Many turn, glance, and continue. Often, I can see a little shudder, a quickening of the pace, or a shift to the opposite side of an empty sidewalk lane.
And much to my horror, one person (and thank God only one person) stops, faces the steps and points. "I can't believe anyone allows this! This is disgusting! How can this be allowed?! People, just sitting all over... uh!! Ridiculous! I can't believe it!"
The steps have rules. They are a community, and probably the best run community in all of New York City. These steps are not a zoo. These steps are not for filthy animals. People live on these steps. People who can hear. People who can see. People who can think. People who feel, deeply.
I never ask for my life to change. I never realize the things that I don't know. I know the places that I have not visited. Two weeks ago, I knew that I had not sat on the steps and talked with these men. Now, I cannot just walk past and I do not quicken my pace. God only needs an open heart to make big changes. After only two weeks, I am excited to see how I will be used throughout my work here.
After the woman walks away, Joe, the outreach coordinator, turn to me and says "A month ago that woman was here, falling down drunk, and trying to get this younger guy to come home with her on the bus."
posted by Jennifer Q @ 1:45 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home