I read a post earlier that brought back a memory from childhood. A very vivid memory.
I was fourteen years old. There was a family reunion in the Sunshine State on my paternal grandfather’s side. My grandparents loaded my brother, sister, and me in their car and we headed to the east coast for a nice mini-vacation.
The road trip itself was non-eventful, until we crossed over into the state of Florida. We drove through several towns and cities on our way to Belle Glade. After fun times at the family reunion, we traveled to West Palm Beach to visit an aunt. After our stay there, we headed down to Miami.
We didn’t stay long in Miami, more of a passing through to ‘see the sites’ than anything. What I saw, what I remember more than anything, was nothing I’d ever seen before. And something that has stuck with me for more than two decades.
We were driving down a busy highway– which one I don’t know. I wasn’t concerned with street signs and highway markers at that time. This highway was several lanes wide, larger than the four lanes I was used to seeing. We passed through intersection after intersection, stopping on red at what seemed like every other one. We were traveling in the outside lane, closest to the exits and buildings.
At one particularly long red light, we stopped just beside a family of four standing on the sidewalk. What struck me about this family was one of the kids, a boy, looked to be about my age. I was sitting in the back seat, passenger side, by the window. From my vantage point, this family was directly in front of me, no more than arm’s length from the door. I smiled in an effort to be polite. I noticed they didn’t smile back. They were dressed raggedly, as if they had been wearing the same clothes for a few days. They looked… poor. I didn’t see a car or any sort of vehicle so assumed they were walking to their destination.
As I looked over each member of this family, I noticed their disheveled appearance and wondered how long they had been walking. Then, I noticed the father holding a piece of cardboard. That piece of cardboard turned out to be a home made sign. The sign read, “Will work 4 food.” Will work for food.
The realization of what I’d just seen began sinking into my soul as we drove away. I watched them until I couldn’t see them any longer. They never moved, never smiled, and looked so… broken.
My heart broke as I thought of that sign, “Will work 4 food.” This was my first encounter with the homeless. This family of four, with a child who appeared to be my age and one much younger, was homeless and in need. Not a drunk man laying on a park bench that so many have become numbed to seeing. Not a dirt-smeared woman pushing a shopping cart down a dingy alley that so many blindly ignore. A family. My fourteen year old mind couldn’t imagine how they’d gotten there, but my fourteen year old mind didn’t care. I didn’t see beggars. I didn’t place blame. I only saw a family. And it hurt my heart in ways my mind couldn’t comprehend.
I have thought of that family over the years. I’ve thought about the empty looks on each one of their faces. I’ve thought of how defeated the parents looked; of how their eyes reflected the sadness of their souls. Having children myself, I can’t imagine how heart-wrenching it was for that mother– to know her children were hungry and not be able to do anything about it. To desperately want to give them the feeling of safety under the roof of a warm home, and be unable to. I can’t imagine how the father felt– his family on the streets with no shelter, no food, and no money.
This isn’t just a problem for the state of Florida, or the United States. This is a global problem. And it’s a problem that we should all take to heart. It is one that is easily forgotten as we sit in our comfortable homes watching cable television or surfing the internet. It is easy to push it to the back of our minds as we sit at the dinner table with our family around us. It is easy to turn our eyes, and our hearts, away from the reality of the world as we sit behind our closed doors. But it’s a problem that can be fixed, if we’d all just look inside ourselves and find the willingness to give. Even if we don’t have much to give, we can give something.
The winter of 2009 brought to light the homelessness in my area when I watched a local news story about a shelter being opened by the Salvation Army to bring the homeless out of the bitter cold for the night. In a city a mere 15 miles south of me, with a population of roughly 30,000– a small city by most standards– there were more than 40 people known to be living on the streets. More than 40. That is more than one in every one thousand residents. In a very small city. If every household gave only $1 per month, there would be enough to feed and house those more than 40 homeless people every single day.
Now imagine that same scenario on a much larger scale… imagine if every household in the country donated one dollar per week to help feed and house the homeless. There are an estimated 310,676,400 people in the United States alone. If one-third of those 3 million plus people gave one dollar each week, that would be approximately $103,558,800 every single week to feed and house the homeless. Let’s take this one step further. There are approximately 6,880,673,125 people in the world. If one-eighth of the world’s population gave one dollar each week, that would be about $860,084,140 to feed the hungry people in the world. Imagine the possibilities…
That homeless family is still clear in my mind… I see them all around me, in my own family. Circumstances change, and in the current economy it is an ever-growing problem. My own family could have easily been the family I saw so many years ago. It could be any one of us, at any time.
For I was hungry and you gave Me food; I was thirsty and you gave Me drink; I was a stranger and you took Me in;
And the King will answer and say to them, ‘Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.
~Matthew 25:35,40 NKJV
Just imagine the possibilities…
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Photo credits: first photo- photographer: Mantas Ruzveltas; third photo- photographer: Maggie Smith. Click on the photos to view the photographer’s portfolio. Downloaded from Free Digital Photos. These photos are free for use with photographer credit. Second photo- photographer: Mary Ellen Mark, from flickr; click on photo to view the photo stream. This photo is free to use for non-commercial purposes.
