And this is where I fail as a person.
I’m a big proponent of social services. No, not indiscriminately handing out whatever to whomever, but there are reasons people are having a hard time and need help. If we don’t help those less fortunate than we are what does that make us?
Only there are times when I wish it wasn’t so close to home.
I leave out the back door and go through the alley to pick my kids up from school. And there’s a homeless man. No, not the kind you’ll find in a movie, wearing 10 layers of clothes that are brown from never having been washed, but a guy who looks a bit disheveled. He hasn’t had a shave in few days.
And there he is, sitting in the alley reading a newspaper.
It’s not the first time. A couple of times I have seen him sitting where our garbage cans rest waiting for garbage pick-up. Sometimes he is on the next block in the alley, sort of wandering around. Sometimes he’s just down the alley, sitting.
Do I worry he is going to break into our house? Partially, but that’s not really it. It’s that being confronted with living your truth, putting into action what you believe. Finding it in your heart some compassion for those that have less – be it material goods, emotional support, whatever.
What do I want? Heck, I don’t know, maybe for my own unease to simply go away.
I don’t say anything to the homeless as they show up in my alley, despite the initial reaction to want them to go away. They aren’t doing anything wrong. Their only “crime” is not having somewhere to go.
As we encounter them I try to teach my kids to have a bit more empathy for them than I have. At times it is the best I can do.