Foreword: This is not to "toot my own horn." I am genuinely passionate about this and want to write about my experiences.
I distinctly remember the first time I felt compelled to reach out to a homeless person. We were on our way to visit my Gram and Pop and he was standing on the corner by the freeway. I couldn't stop thinking about him. While I was eating lunch with my family, I wanted to save some of my soup to take to him. But I didn't; I was subconscious about what my parents would think. I wasn't even sure if they'd let me.
After that moment, I started noticing homeless people. All the time. I wanted to help them so badly. But I was barely a teenager. What could I do?
The first time I gave money to a homeless person was with my mother. She handed me a few dollars to pass out the window. He was barely older than me. I felt my heart break for this boy. Didn't know his name. Didn't know his circumstances. But I couldn't stop thinking about him.
In 2006, I went on my last downtown Seattle trip with my Uncle Ron. Before we left, my mother had given us Chocolate Pepperming Stick Luna bars to give to any homeless person we saw. Since then, everytime I (or we) go downtown, we always have granola bars or fruit or water to give to people on the streets.
I wanted to do so much, but I felt so limited. I couldn't properly volunteer in homeless shelters because I was underage. Because I was female, people placed barriers around me for safety. How could I explain that my personal safetly means nothing compared to helping the homeless?
Last fall, I read Under the Overpass by Mike Yankoski. And it completely changed my life. Then there were hats, and a Christmas play... the run where I sprinted home to grab some food and then sprinted back to the man I'd passed by Fred Meyer, praying that he would still be there.
Yesterday I went downtown by myself, for the first time. I made three kits made up of a granola bar and a clementine inside a knit hat.
Before I could leave the University District, I was stopped by a man on the Ave. He asked if I had any spare money that I could give him. Usually, I have a couple bucks on hand, but I hadn't stopped at the bank yet. Then he asked if I'd be willing to go get lunch with him. I felt a little unsure of the situation but then he asked if I would buy him a gyro at the restaurant across the street. I agreed and we walked over together. He had everything planned out.. knew what sandwich he wanted and asked if he could have a coke too. The man at the gyro window recognized him, so I knew this was a somewhat regular occurence. Blake (the man I was buying lunch for) was very friendly and we talked while waiting for his food. The man preparing the food gave me free fried falafel as thanks for buying the man food. When Blake received his food, he thanked me deeply, saying "You saved my day."
While downtown, I gave my hat kits about to a homeless man and a homeless woman. It was the third woman that broke my heart though. She had a large sign that was slightly unintelligble. Her look seemed resentful as I stared at her, but moments later I realized she had just been holding back tears. When I gave her the granola bar and orange, she burst into tears. Then I saw a little girl standing behind her, probably two or three years old. The woman, Jennifer, immediately took the granola bar and fed it to her daughter. When I gave them some cash, Jennifer opened up a small Spiderman metal lunch box and placed the money inside. Her daughter's name was Alyssa.
The last woman I ran into that evening was slightly crazy. I couldn't understand much of what she said but I gathered that she six kids and wanted me buy her some McDonalds. Though I don't approve of McDonalds, I bought her two cheeseburgers, some fries and a drink.
There are homeless people everywhere. This is wrong. These people need help. Get past your stigmas. Get over your fears. They are people. What if that was your sister? Or your brother? Your daughter or son? Then what would you do?
Love them. We are called to love them.
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