He was nestled in real tight Head facing me Eyes closed
His blanket was underneath him It was a darkish green He was bundled In a deep sleep The night had tucked him in so soundly With a still face Motionless body I wondered if he was dreaming Who was in it? What was happening? I thought about what it would feel like to take a break with him To rest my head upon my arms and breathe a sigh of relief
All at once A siren went off Cars were honking up and down the street Lights flashed at intersections And people passed me on the sidewalk As I looked down at this homeless man Tattered and tired Curled under a store’s canopy outside the doorstep Everything became so clear The man was bundled in a thick jacket His arms tightly wrapped around his body Embracing himself as his only sense of security His face now looked tense Mouth curved more downward than up Or maybe that was what I perceived it to look like
This man Was still asleep No matter bed or street His body was fallen into nighttime dreams No matter the sirens or screams Coming from people and cars He had found what was best for him And in that moment I still wondered what it would feel like to take a break with him To rest my head upon my arms and breathe a sigh of relief
I saw this man as I walked home from Walmart the other night. Seeing him in those conditions was startling. It made me thankful for what I have but also convicted for what I neglect to share. So far, this summer has caused me to encounter parts of myself that I never knew were in me. I’ve had to ask God to sustain me as I have traveled to different ministry sites.
At one of our ministry sites, I met this lady named Ruby. She was an elderly woman suffering from dementia. She kept repeating these words, “I’m hurting. My knees hurt. I want to go home. Can you let me out?” My teammate Katie and I had been told that the elevator to get off the floor required a passcode in order to keep the patients from getting on the elevator and leaving. So when I heard this woman asking to go home, I tried to divert her question.
“Let’s sit down. Maybe you will feel better. Let’s look out the window. Can we talk? Can we pray for you?” I tried multiple things in hopes that she would stop asking to go home. Eventually, there wasn’t anything Katie and I could do. We said goodbye and started walking down the hall. Suddenly, the woman realized we weren’t going to take her home and she began to wail. My heart broke. I felt trapped inside the four walls of the building. I wanted to go home. I felt imprisoned by the wailing cries coming from the woman’s tired lungs. My emotions made me sick to my stomach and I wanted to throw up.
This is one example of how God has put me in situations that have caused me to confront myself. Specifically, this situation forced me to confront my empathy. I have come to terms with the fact that I can’t escape how much I ache when others ache. How much I feel when others feel. I didn’t ask to feel the weight of this woman’s pain. It just came upon me.
This morning another situation happened. At a breakfast ministry site, I was asked to chop bananas, oranges, and lemons. My teammates prepped other parts of breakfast as we all got ready for the homeless to eat in the fellowship hall. We prayed and then began to serve them. I was on toast duty. As person after person came through the line asking for pieces of toast, I felt so close to the hearts of those I was serving. Their smiles became my smile. Their laughter and excitement to eat gave me such joy, and I forgot my own hurts. I felt at home inside the four walls of the fellowship hall.
In this situation, I didn’t feel burdened by empathy. God allowed me to see the strength that comes from empathizing with people. There are qualities that I only allow myself to see as burdens, but if I’m open to it, my qualities can be strengths. If I’m open to it, I can learn from feeding breakfast to the hungry, hearing the cries of a woman desiring to go home, and seeing a homeless man asleep beneath a canopy.
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