A Humbling Experience

It started with the desire to help those in need. Some friends and I went into the heart of downtown, where many other people were gathering to plan out the evening events. We were all to split up into different groups: a group to walk around the streets and hand out food; a group to offer haircuts; a group to serve meals at an outdoor, makeshift soup kitchen; and a group to interact with the homeless at the kitchen tables. Knowing full well that if I attempted to give someone a haircut I would either chop off their ear or have them end up looking like they have a grossly disheveled cat on their head, I opted for participating in the other groups.

I first helped with handing out food. It was a balmy summer evening, the setting sun was still visible and shining light down the east-west streets, so it was a pleasant time for a walk. We encountered several homeless people, many of them sitting or laying outside building entrances, and offered each of them a sandwich. Reactions varied: some eagerly accepted the sandwich, others grunted as they took it, and others declined as they waved their hand as an indication to leave them alone. Occasionally a conversation would strike up, and it was then that I realized that I really had no clue how to talk to a homeless person. Disregarding the fact that my social skills were already questionable at best, my go-to topics such as “where are you from” and “what do you do for a living” seemed to be off the table in my mind. At the time, it had somehow never occurred to me that homeless people still have life stories they may be willing to share. I had just assumed that they are always miserable and any reminder of their current state of affairs would make for an inappropriate or awkward conversation.

It was because of this very line of thinking that I was completely caught off guard at one particular person’s reaction to being handed a sandwich. He was grateful, joyful, and...happy. “Wait, is this person homeless? He almost seems content.” In return for the sandwich, he gave us bookmarks he had designed himself. The one I received had tiny random stickers on them, a quote by Charles Swindoll about the importance of attitude in our lives, and a special note: “Given in acknowledgement of friendship”. It has been nearly ten years since that night, and I still have that bookmark.

Our bag of sandwiches was empty, and the sun was starting to disappear over the horizon, so we returned to base. A few in our group departed, but my friends and I headed over to the soup kitchen area. I helped pour soup into bowls and passed them to people as they walked by, and once the line thinned I courageously sat at one of the tables and struck up a conversation with someone else. However, there wasn’t anything as memorable about that part of the evening, no keepsake in my room today as a result, but that is what it means to serve. It’s not about what we get out of it. Yes, it is a humbling experience and we might learn valuable lessons along the way, but we should not be focused on what’s in it for us.

The sun had set, the sky was getting darker by the minute, and people were beginning to pack up. I said goodbye to my friends, old and new, and walked back to my car.

Unexpectedly, the night was not quite over for me.

Another homeless person came up to me and asked if I had anything I could give him. (We’ll call him Fred.) Interestingly enough, Fred had stopped me right outside a small food mart, so I guided him inside and offered to pay for whatever he wanted from there. He selected an Arizona green tea and a bag of potato chips. “That’s all?” I thought. The cashier scanned the items, I paid for and gave them to Fred, and I also gave him the change. He looked like he had won the lottery. He fervently and constantly thanked me for my generosity, and we parted ways.

I have gone on many road trips, I have had early morning commutes, and I used to be a college student, so I have been to food marts far more times than I can count, and that night with Fred is easily one of the most memorable experiences I have had at one.

Later that very same week, or even the following day (don’t judge...it’s been ten years), I worked a shift downtown, not too far from where I had recently served the homeless. During my lunch break, I went for a brief walk outside to get some exercise. There was a special event going on at the square, so I checked it out. Lots of people were in attendance, yet somehow I noticed a particular person sitting and eating a hot dog on the outskirts: Fred. I recognized him right away because he was in the same clothes he was wearing that night. Meanwhile, I was dressed in a nice button-up shirt and dress pants. Part of me wanted to go say hi to him, but another part was hesitant. I still can’t place why, but I actually almost felt embarrassed. Here's me, in nice clothes, with a job to go to, with a vehicle to get me there, and there’s Fred, in the same clothes (possibly not laundered), eating a hot dog that I automatically assumed was paid for by some other kind soul, completely oblivious to the fact that I was standing barely twenty yards away from him.

I spent too much time debating whether I should go up and talk to him; all of a sudden my break was nearly over. I rushed back to my shift, internally beating myself up for not having the guts to go speak to him. But why? Maybe if he had seen me in nice clothes he would have asked for more money or food, and I would have felt obligated? Maybe I didn’t want to feel guilt or shame, where if I gave anything less than the clothes on my back and the title to my car then I would have failed at being a good person? I wish I could have done things differently that day, but ever since then I have had little interest in working a job that expects me to dress up all the time or a job that doesn’t satisfy my desire to help make a difference in this world, no matter how small.

It started with the desire to help those in need. Turns out, people are in need of different things. Everyone is in need of food, money, and housing...some more than others. Other people, however, are in need of a humbling experience, to realize that happiness can be found even in the exchanging of a sandwich and a bookmark, or the purchase of green tea and some chips.