We got some snow yesterday. You may have noticed. And by “some” snow, I mean a “crap ton” of snow. The next day our team was shoveling at our base in Elizabeth, NJ, to make sure that we could get our outreach vehicles to the people we serve each week. Now, I’ve been shoveling snow at our headquarters since my first day on the job over ten years ago, so I wasn’t about to miss the party. As I was heading out the door, my wife asked me if I could stop somewhere for milk on my way home. After pillaging her purse for cash, a $5 bill and two $1’s, I agreed.
After uncovering my Honda Accord, I drove to work through some really icy and narrow roads. I made it to our base and got to work. About an hour later I had to make my way home for some virtual meetings. As I was about to pass a 711, I remembered my wife’s request: milk.
I pulled into what was once a parking lot, but was clearly just an ice skating rink. I managed to park, put my mask on and went inside. On my way inside, I made eye contact with a man shivering by the front door who was clearly in search of cash donations. He was an older black man with eyes that were sad and blood shot. He was wearing something that masqueraded as a winter coat, but that wasn’t fooling anyone. I remembered the $7 I had stolen from my wife in my pocket and while I was thinking about whether or not I should throw a buck or two his way, I remembered that I had a very specific objective and decided to give him some change on my way out. So I nodded and told him I’d get him on the other side.
I found the milk and decided to get half and half while I was at it. The total bill came to $6.70. I reached for my $7 and remembered the man outside. In a moment I decided to pay with a card and I pulled the $5 bill out. As I walked out the door, there he was.
“How are you doing, man? You hanging in there? Staying warm?”
“Trying to,” he replied. As I handed him the $5 bill I asked him what his name was.
”Marcus.”
”Marcus. It’s nice to meet you, I’m Josiah. Hang in there, man.”
I walked over to my car and got in. As I put the car in reverse, I quickly discovered that I wasn’t going anywhere. I was stuck. My tires spun and spun and I just sat there. I couldn’t go forwards or back. I turned the wheel back and forth, shifting from drive to reverse and back again. As I was getting frustrated (both with my wife for asking me to stop and with myself for choosing that particular ice skating rink) I saw Marcus making his way to my car.
Marcus shoveled around my tires. Shouting instructions as he did. He ended up working with me for 20 minutes, singlehandedly pushing my car all the way to the street. As I slid out of the parking lot, I rolled down my window down and shouted, “You’re my hero!”
Homeless folks are not just freeloaders. They aren’t beggars who choose to stand in freezing temperatures with inadequate clothing hoping to accept handouts from strangers who are actually “making a living.” These are men and women with hopes and dreams, families and friends, strengths and weaknesses. Just like you. Just like me. The only difference is that life played them a terrible hand. Instead of judging them, let’s try empathizing with them.
I tried to find a way to help Marcus without any clue that just a few moments later, I would be the one “in need.”
