Homelessness. Something many in America have never personally experienced. We maybe have our hard times, job loss, cutting out the extras from our budgets, but most of us have some sort of support to turn to when we have hit rock bottom to help us out.
We may come in contact with the homeless on the street. We may have helped them for a fleeting moment in time like giving them a meal, a jacket, or sleeping bag. And some of us have gone even further to actually have a conversation with some.
On Saturday I had an encounter with a homeless woman (I will refer to her as Patty for the rest of the post) that really caused me to sit and think about the problem in our society. Here’s the play-by-play:
I was working on Saturday morning. For those who don’t know, I work at an Optometrist office. Just a typical, slow, uneventful Saturday; until Patty came in.
I was in the back of the office when I heard the front door open. I looked through our swinging doors, they remind me of doors that would be in a western saloon, and saw a woman. She had short spiky shiny brown hair peeking through a sweatband. Her skin was tan and worn like leather. You could tell she had been in the elements for a while. She was wearing a t-shirt and fingerless gloves.
Before I was able to make it to the front desk to greet her she was already signing her name on our sign-in sheet. I greeted her with a warm “Hello” and asked if there was anything I could help her with. She responded by pointing to a framed poster behind me about Lasik saying, “I want to talk to someone about Lasik.”
To talk to a Doctor about Lasik, one must have an exam first to see if he/she would be a candidate. Saturday’s are always packed full in our office. So, I explained to the woman if she were interested she would need to set up an appointment with the Dr. for an exam.
Patty did not like my answer and again told me she wanted to talk to someone about Lasik.
This is when the conversation turned.
Patty began to twitch a little bit in her neck and arms. She looked over on the other side of our counter and noticed a mug full of pens. She kindly asked if she could have one, and I said, “Yes.”
Patty returned to place herself right in front of me, looked me in the eyes and as serious as one could be asked, “Are you killing angels?”
Right away I went into defense mode. I was thrown off by her question and immediately began to feel heartbroken, thinking she must have something wrong with her. She is probably mentally ill. I answered her question, not wanting to cause a scene, as we had a patient being helped on the other side of the room. I answer, “No.”
She begins to explain there is a man going around who is murdering angels. He is a bad man. I need to be on the lookout for him. He may try to hurt us. I need to not worry because her mom is going to come and help those who are not sinners.
Patty’s next question: “Are you a sinner?”
In that moment I had think about what the best answer might be. It didn’t matter what I really thought. I just wanted to keep her calm and end our conversation without commotion. But in that moment I decided to answer how I really felt, “Everyone is a sinner.”
She did not like my answer. She fired back, “No! Maybe all the people you know. Angels aren’t sinners.”
My response, “Angels are not people.”
I had all of a sudden gotten myself in a back forth debate with a homeless woman about spiritual things. How did this happen?! This is not my thing.
Patty settled down, turned towards the door and I thought she was going to leave. She saw our coffee and asked if she could fill up her cup. I politely told her, “Of course.”
As she re-fueled, I took a deep breath to ease my adrenaline that had gone through the roof.
She turned back to me, told me I was nice. Said a few more things that I cannot recall and on her way out asked one more question, “What is your name?”
I decided in a split second that I did not feel safe and blurted out “Suzy.” And that’s when Patty turned and left.
I quickly looked at the sign-in sheet to see what she wrote. She had taken a long time to write it out. She was very detailed and added arrows to the end of many letters of “Persephone Maximus”
For those of you who have not studied Greek Mythology, let me do quick breakdown for you: Persephone was Zeus’ daughter, the harvest goddess. She was kidnapped by Hades, the king of the underworld and then became the queen of the underworld.
Maximus in Latin means greatest/largest.
I of course cannot tell you why she chose to sign her name like this. But it did creep me out after all was said and done.
As I sit and ponder this conversation in my head, it makes my heart heavy. There are many times in our society where the general public views the homeless as those who are lazy or addicts. Those who are not trying to help themselves get off the street and make something for their own lives.
In reality there are many who are sick. Who do not have a support system like many do; or resources to help get them out of the situation they are in. Many are mentally ill and will stay on the street, disowned by anyone they come into contact with, because there are not people out there who will/can help them.
And I can include myself among those. As much as I don’t want to lump myself with everyone else, it’s the horrible truth. During my encounter with Patty, I was scared. She was unpredictable. I didn’t know if one moment she was going to be nice and the next moment flip out. Which is also my reaction when I come into contact with the homeless on the street.
So the challenge today is to learn from experience. Try everyday to make a difference. Because where lunch, or a blanket, or one conversation may be great things to do, in reality they do not offer any long-term help and are only putting a small Band-Aid on a surgery wound.
Until next time…PEACE OUT!
The One... 