Two years ago last month a friend of mine, Jane Day, kindly asked me to accompany her to interview a homeless person. Her concern & curiosity led her to investigate those who are looking for a hand-out or maybe a hand-up. She wrote about it in her blog called The Akron Dignity Project.
This was my response to the experience.
March 2, 2011 Charlene DiFonzo-Holmes
sign-Man
. . . but by the grace of God there go I
The sun deceived me this afternoon as we walked toward sign-Man. The depth of the cold and wind poking, took me by surprise. Sign-Man was surprised too; birthed in Boston Heights, a product and graduate of an affluent, quality Hudson High School, yet, he was on the street. He shook his head in disbelief of his own history and ‘standing in society’---he said it was degrading; I shook my internal head at his standing in mud all day.
With kindness, Jane talks her language of questions. I stare at his face--it is lined hard for his 43 years travailing this sod. Some walk this earth on plenty of Chem-lawn green grass, he is slogging his way in the mud. My eyes move to his . . . they are clear blue windows tucked under a ball cap, hat and hood. His parents are still living, but he has no relationship with them.
For the second time, in this short interview, a car cautiously slides its window down a hand width, to give one, in the form of a dollar bill. He moves toward the vehicle reaching for that hand and says “God Bless You.”
*Does his Mom ruminate on her blue-eyed sign-Manchild.
*Are his Dad’s dreams for his son bitterness on his tongue? Or---were and are they both lost in their own slogging.
*How do his parents navigate the knowledge of their child living on the street, living in a plywood-hidden tent when the wind-chill is below zero?
Maybe the bigger question is how does sign-Man, and I and you and them and all, go from a helpless babe to hapless Man? I don’t have a clue of the steps, but I do know those steps are lined with sin disguised in what looks like plush carpet. Whether the sin of Man or of society, it is ultimately the deception of Satan, the consummate counterfeiter, the ultimate illusionist that has us so buffaloed that we are the proverbial frog sitting in the pot of water . . . or maybe even the sign-Man standing in the mud.
Sign-Man requests to be nameless and faceless. We took our off centered pictures, then showing him to confirm their facelessness. Before we parted I asked if we could pray with him. He seemed most comfortable with this idea. So with Jane to his left and I to his right, our hand resting on a shoulder, he warmly reached out to us and placed a hand on each of our shoulders. In the midst of a busy highway exit, biting cold and mud, we three bowed to the womb weaver of us all, the lover and redeemer of all our souls. We bowed to the One who loves us equally and redeems equally no matter where we stand. By Gods grace . . .
