Now, there are a lot of homeless people in San Diego. Especially in the winter. And a lot of them live downtown. But there is something different about this guy that has intrigued me from the moment I first saw him. He looks sad, intelligent, and maybe a little lost. He is dressed differently - he wears lighter colors, tennis shoes and shorts sometimes, and and always seems well put together for some reason.
I give him whatever I can when I have cash or change, which usually isn't often in this debit card day and age.
This past Sunday, I felt especially sad driving by him, because I didn't have any cash. Nathan and Eden and I had gone to Starbucks (twice) that morning already. I had spent the day scrapbooking on Saturday. Money is tight right now, but we have a roof over our heads, Christmas lights up on our back porch and presents piled up in our closets waiting for wrapping paper.
Eden and I were on our own (Nate had already gone to another gig) so I drove for awhile looking for a bank with a drive-through ATM. I couldn't find one so I stopped at a Wells Fargo and got Eden out of the car to go get $20 for the Man on The Street.
And then we drove all the way back to downtown (about 20 minutes away by now) to give him his money.
When I pulled up it was a green light, so he wasn't really expecting anyone to stop. I handed him the bill and as soon as he realized it was a $20 he started stammering his thanks and, almost as an afterthought, blurted, "Merry Christmas!" with tears in his eyes.
I wanted to jump out of my car and give him a big hug. I wanted to sit down and pour him a cup of coffee and find out what his story was. I wanted to write him a check for a thousand bucks. Why was he telling me Merry Christmas? It is I who already have the Merry Christmas, and he is the one shivering in the cold on a dirty street corner asking strangers to help him make it through the week. I mean, after all, it was just $20.
Instead, I just said, "Merry Christmas!", gave him a big smile and eased back into traffic. I looked in my rearview mirror about a block away and saw that he had given me a big wave right after I had pulled away from the curve. His back, now turned, was bent over a little and it seemed the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
It brings tears to my eyes even now to think about how fortunate we are, and how much other people are hurting, especially as the weather gets colder and the holidays approach.
My sister, Abigail, recently told her own story (she lives in Michigan):
I was driving back to the shop the other day after my last clean and I passed a young girl, 8th or 9th grade maybe. I couldn't help but notice that she wasn't wearing a coat. A pair of jeans and a short sleeved graffic T and she looked cold. She was hugging herself as she walked to keep herself warm. I drove on a couple blocks all the while feeling inside the struggles of right and wrong. So I decided that because I had so many coats at home it would be selfish of me to not give her the one I had with me. I turned around to where she was walking, got out of my car and asked her if she owned a coat. Keep in mind it has been snowing here and the temp is well below freezing now. She shook her head no, so I took off my old ratty blue coat and said, "you look cold, take my coat." she said thank you and that she was very cold. I wished her a Merry Christmas and we went our separate ways. This just reminds me how often we forget to think of others and how quick we are to judge them, or their parents. Most likely they are doing everything they can for their little girl and could not afford a winter coat for her this year. As I got in my car to head back to work I looked down the street and I was overwhelmed with a feeling I can not describe as I saw this young girl walking to her destination wearing my old blue coat!I can't help but think about one of my dad's favorite passage of scripture in Isaiah, which reads "I want you to share your food with the hungry and to welcome poor wanderers into your homes. Give clothes to those who need them, and do not hide from relatives who need your help." (58:7, NLT)
This Sunday, we're going to take the Man on The Street a stainless steel thermos, some Christmas cookies, and one of my mother-in-law's care packages that has socks, toothpaste, toothbrush, etc. If you think of it today, maybe you could talk to the Man Upstairs about our Man on The Street. I'm sure He knows his story.
