Neighbor News
Homeless Diary, Final Entry
This is the 5th, and last entry, in a series of stories about the homeless. There is always a light that shines after the storm.
I have tried in this series to illustrate different individuals that are homeless, that aren’t necessarily what we envision a homeless person to be. The first was a young woman running away from an abusive relationship, desperately trying to figure a way to keep her children and stay out of “the system.” The second was a veteran that had been on the streets for many years, that was tired and broken by life’s blows, and was looking for a place to call home. The third was a woman that was on her way to getting her Masters of Social Work, so she could help others that were now homeless the way she had been. The fourth was a senior woman from Peru, that had been a nurse in her own country, but here because of the language barrier and her isolation she found herself without a home.
And now, I write about the last person in my series, a gentleman in his mid 50’s. It was at the beginning of this past winter, and I was on my way to distribute food, walking through the 42 Street tunnel, that connects the riders from the number trains to Port Authority, and I saw a man that was dressed fairly well, but his legs had a heaviness to them. In my heart I sensed he was carrying a personal load, and perhaps he was hungry. I stepped up and said I had warm food, and asked if he would like some. A relief broke out over his face. He said he had walked from Queens to Manhattan looking for work, and only now did he go onto the subway, because he had been trying to conserve his money. Yes, he was hungry he said, and he so very grateful to have some food. He said he had lost his job, which he had had for years, and now he was finding it very difficult to find work, his money was running out, and he was so close to losing his apartment. We went over some ideas for entry level positions, that didn’t require prior training. He seemed brighter, because he shared his story with me, and I told him not to give up, and that God was with him.
The homeless people I meet, are not nameless or faceless, they are individuals that have stories, that some of us would not have survived, had we been in the same circumstances, and some that have squandered life’s chances through faulty choices. I don’t go there to judge them, but to feed their stomachs, and hopefully to feed their souls, which is a starvation of a far greater magnitude than the body.
