Our Homeless

I work in Atlanta, Georgia and see homelessness every day on my ride into the city.  Naturally, I've born witness to poverty all over the world, and always feel a strong sense of remorse for not being able to help folks who have found themselves, for whatever reason, in such a terrible position in life.


Of course, as with anything else, there are scammers out there who make a fanciful living begging for money on street corners or at intersections.  I recall one such instance when I would see the same guy at the same intersection each day when I lived and worked in Chicago.  One day, as I approached the intersection, the young man was hopping around and smiling, presumably listening to music on a phone or iPod.  As soon as the light turned red and the cars were forced to stop, his body position changed to some sort of slumped over, malnourished being .  His face contorted into one so pitiful, had I not just witnessed the transition, I would have thought him truly unhappy, without family, and homeless.  This guy was gaming people and most likely making a fair living working the street.


A few years ago, I wrote about a homeless guy panhandling in the street while I was in Raleigh, North Carolina.  This guy was amazing, and as I stood there talking to him, he on his two prosthetic legs in the middle of the road, a guy stopped and handed him a dollar.  The man, he referred to himself as Everyman (I'll never forget that), handed me the dollar and told me to donate it to my church.  What a guy!  Of course, I handed him his dollar...but can you imagine that?


There is this one unfortunate gentleman who begs for change with regularity not far from where I now work.  I had my doubts about his homeless status, and figured he lived in some government paid housing not far from the area.  I say that to repeat what our moms taught us long ago--don't assume anything.


On my way home one day, I crossed under Interstate Twenty, making my usual left turn to drive up the on-ramp.  As I sat at the red light awaiting my turn, something caught my attention from the corner of my eye--movement directly under the interstate and above the steep concrete wall.  There in the small area created by the top of the wall and the bottom of the highway lay a man.  He rested on his side in the sweltering heat and I recognized him immediately.  He had on the same ratty white t-shirt and jeans I had seen that morning on my way into work.  I can't even begin to tell you how bad I felt for him and how upset with myself I was for thinking he was scamming people out of their money.


The next day, as I exited the interstate, I saw him.  He would put his hands together in a prayerful motion and bow to each car that passed him by.  I stopped and handed him five dollars and he looked up at me with his rheumy eyes and a blank face. 


"Thank you so much, sir.  God Bless you and please pray for me."  That's what he said to me.


Now, I don't know what he did that five dollars, and to be honest, I don't really care.  Did I enable more bad behavior?  I don't know, but what I realized was I gave a poor person a moment of relief.  Whether he bought food, cheap wine, or a hit of crack was irrelevant to me, because for just a brief second we were both part of the same stratosphere, and for just a second this guy was given notice by another human being.