“God is in the slums, in the cardboard boxes where the poor play house. God is in the silence of a mother who has infected her child with a virus that will end both their lives. God is in the cries heard under the rubble of war. God is in the debris of wasted opportunity and lives, and God is with us if we are with them.” – Paul Hewson
[Click photo to view larger.]
It was on one of the most noted streets in America for spending money on vanity that I saw her. It seemed that myself and my camera lens were the only ones intentionally looking.
How did she lose her way, I thought to myself, did she immigrate to this country and fall between the cracks as so many do… Has she been abandoned by her family… What does she wake up to every morning… When was the last time she felt love, smiled… laughed.
Every time that I see the poor my heart recites the scripture verse I learned as a child…
“Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”
I begin to take on a somber feeling and spend so much time in thought churning the poverty that so many people live in. The ills of being too sensitive, I suppose.
Why? In a world with so much wealth, why can’t those who have so much – give? The smallest percentage of ones earnings could make the world of a difference. I’ve heard it said that if everyone would give just a thread we could make the poor a shirt to keep them warm.
There isn’t a link at the bottom of this post for you to click and donate money to the poor. This photo provoked such thought within me that I felt the need to share.
I know that we live in a world where we are duped, taken advantage of and lied to often. To the homeless we say, “get a job.” To those begging for change we know they are going to use it to buy booze – and we let them know. It is a difficult thing to juggle. We want to give, but we feel taken if we do.
I understand.
There’s a guy in Hillsboro Village that begs me for money every night that I’m down there. Without fail. Some times I give him a little change or a couple dollar bills and others I talk to him. I have asked him where he lives and he straight up tells me that he has a house he lives in. I ask him why he is always bumming money – why doesn’t he go get a job. He tells me that times are rough – he can’t find a job. You try to talk to him in depth or offer a meal, he isn’t interested.
What is there to do?
I have been guilty of completely blowing this guy off on occasion. Why shouldn’t I? He never remembers me… he doesn’t keep a tally of how much money I have given him…
Quite frankly, it doesn’t matter. I know that I am to show love.
Always.
“What will you do.” It is a rhetorical question in this sense. It’s one you should ask yourself. Will I show love the next time I see this man, or in my own dealings with rejection shrug my shoulders at him. My initial thoughts can be just as cynical as the next guys.
Upon leaving that corner in Manhattan, where the old woman was begging for change, I proceeded to cross the street and enter the Diesel Clothing store. I’m a big fan of Diesel, I’d wear it everyday if it didn’t cost $500 for a pair of pants. As soon as you enter the store they have poshly dressed security guards everywhere and a giant DJ station complete with prefabricated DJ boy spinning some awful head pounding music. The place smelled of new clothing and people so concerned about their appearance that it made me sick.
All that I could think of as I walked the 4 story collection was the woman I had met out front. Hundreds pass her everyday. Her cup should be overflowing with change if there are this many people in this store buying ridiculously overpriced clothing.
I quickly left the store as my mood was so deteriorated that I didn’t even want to try and find the sale rack (my guess is on 5th ave. there are no sale racks anyway…).
Later that day when I went into a church to reflect and focus on prayer – I remembered the poor. Something I tend to forget often. If I had not seen her that day, I wouldn’t have. My prayers would have been more self-reflective and family oriented.
I am not a man made of money. Fact is, I struggle like the rest. No matter how hard I work it seems to never be good enough. But that is neither here nor there… I have love to give. And I have the freedom to pray.
This photo reminds me that I don’t do either enough.
What will you do.
