Giving to the homeless

We went and gave stuff to homeless people today...and I was bitter. Deep down I knew it wasn't enough. It was all a sham, a sham wow. We did it to pat ourselves on the back. Massage our egos. Cuddle our faith. Oh we're such nice human beings, taking 2 hrs out of our lives to see the homeless people. Those crazy, dirty, gross people. I saw it in our eyes. It was in my eyes. Listen to them ramble their heart out with tears in their eyes. Yearning for companionship that they don't have. Yet we had to cut them short. "Hey listen, it was great talking to you. But we HAVE to leave." Oh really? HAVE to leave. Right. They're cutting close to our 2 hr time line. Better cut them loose and boogie. Don't need 3 hrs to massage my ego, 2 hrs is enough. As we turn our backs I look at the man's eyes. As much as it was full of confusion, alcohol, and any other possible drug available, I saw a world of hurt. An understanding of insincerity...and worst of all, an acceptance of it as human nature. When a good deed is carried out half way...it just seems fake.

We gave blankets, some food, a backpack and whatever other thing. Who cares. They're still on the streets, they'll still be hungry, they'll still die. We say a prayer...and leave. Have faith in the prayer you say. I hope they do. Because I don't. Not in the prayer, but in us as people to follow through the opportunities God gives us to actually do something about it. We just don't. We only have 2 hrs to spare, remember? How bitter I was about making no real difference. As a business student that prides myself for efficiency, effectiveness, and strategy to get out of bad situations, I felt so powerless. That anger fuels me. One day. One day I will become SO powerful and influential. I will be so rich and recognized. I will start a movement and get these people off the streets. For justice I will. Throw me pain and anguish, I will destroy it.

At the end of the day, a James Cha with sparkling eyes and a bright smile caught my attention.

He wanted to genuinely hear these people's retarded drunken rambles. He got offended at a person that said nothing but thanks. A glimpse of hope into what caring really is. A shimmer of light to see someone who wasn't massaging his ego. He wanted to hear THEIR story. ONE person's story. Then it hit me. It's my fault. It's not pointless. I was being a fool. I looked at the homeless like a number. A problem, an equation, an "it." James had it right all along. Each individual is a person. A person is not a problem, number or equation. Tonight we didn't solve a problem or an equation. But we did give blankets to 20+ people so they'd stay warm. We did hear their stories and gave them some companionship. When it comes to lives, numbers can't be the measurement. For each life made better is an accomplishment. Each act of kindness brings a bit of inspiration. Each bit of inspiration ignites an ember of hope. Let us keep the ember alive. It's what we're called to do.