Bleeding Hearts

Yesterday I had one of those moments when my soul jumped into my heart and it took everything I could do not to let my eyes tear up. On my walk to campus, I almost always take the same route that takes me toward the heart of downtown before walking up to campus through the park blocks. However a couple blocks shy of the park blocks, I noticed a gathering of men in suits hovering outside the door of an artistic, non-profit agency. It was then that I noticed the man clutching his side, laying on the ground in the entry way with his back to the building. He was wearing a flimsy T-shirt, jeans, and high-top shoes. He was unshaven and unwashed. And he was clutching a carry-out box of spaghetti, the contents of which had spilled upon him-presumably as he fell to the ground. And amongst all of this, the only words coming out of his mouth were "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He repeated this statement over and over, while the men in suits radio-ed to try to get somebody to help this man.

It was this scene and those words that punctured my heart. Everyone falls, everyone has needs, everyone has moments when they've hit rock bottom. To me it doesn't matter if this man was on drugs or potentially an alcoholic, I feel that we are all responsible for each other regardless of the multiple independent behavioral choices we make. You are human, I am human-thus we have much in common. As I continued my walk, I wondered if I could have done anything in that moment to help that man. I had cash, but that wouldn't have helped. He had food. He had "help" on the way. The men in suits started offering words of assurance to the gentleman once they saw the look of compassion upon my face. The only thing I could do I felt was offer a prayer for the gentleman laying in desperation.

I couldn't help but wonder what may have the led the man to this point in his life. (These are the things I do-I ponder, analyze, and wonder pretty much all the time.) Could he have been a veteran? He looked about the right age and many of our men and women in need are veterans whom the current system is unable to support. Could he be a sufferer of a mental illness stuck in a cycle of no insurance, unemployment, and a broken mental health system? Could he have been a "survivor" of childhood emotional, physical, or sexual abuse who escaped to the streets at a young age and had never left?

While I will probably never know the answers to my questions, this gentleman will remain on my mind and my heart for years to come. I will never forget many of the homeless individuals who I have encountered over the years on these streets, who work their way into my heart, and who make me recognize how easily any of us could be in similiar shoes. These are the individuals who make me hope so strongly in the power of human compassion and in the ability for change to be implemented eventually within our nation and within the world.

If we would stop looking at each other as "other" and instead recognize that we are all the same---what a world of difference we could create. Sometimes it starts in the simple things and gratitude can be given for the tiniest of things. While I couldn't do anything for the man yesterday, today when I was stopped by a gentleman sitting on the street, I was reminded to look him directly in the eye, smile, and tell him that although I didn't have cash I definitely hoped he had a good day. His double take, smile, and thanks in return are all that I needed to know that the smallest of steps really do matter. May we all be reminded of the interrelatedness of humanity and take the smallest and largest of steps to demonstrate human compassion. I hope you all and the gentleman from yesterday are especially blessed today....