homelessness

     On the door of the cafe in which I work hangs a sign.  The sign reads "Help Wanted."  Nearly every day that I work, someone comes in and asks for an application.  Most are teenagers looking for a summer job.  Some are middle-aged women, some men applying for cooking positions, but today I was thrown off.  Today a man came in enthusiastically.  He had a untamed mane of hair and significant sun exposure and appeared to be in his late 30's to early 40's.  Immediately upon seeing him, my mind jumped the gun and assumed he was homeless.  You can just tell.  The hair and sun exposure were some of the signs which lead to my hasty assumption.  He also had a bike parked outside.  He mentioned the sign on the door and asked for an application.  He took the application to a table in the corner to fill out and commented that he had been looking for work over the past 8 months.  He continued to pepper me with questions such as "Do you get paid weekly or every other week?" and "How soon could I be hired?"  I was feeling a little uncomfortable because clearly he was interested and I have no say in any hiring.  I also knew that the sign was only on the door because we have a quick turnover with waitresses, but I couldn't bring myself to tell him that.  He was in such high spirits. I answered the questions as vaguely as possible and went to talk to the owner who was working in the back.  The owner said that when hiring, he calls on Wednesdays.  I reported back to the man eagerly waiting at the cash register.  He excitedly asked, "Do you think I'll get it?!" I informed him of another place hiring down the road, just a hop, skip, and a jump away.  And then wished him good luck on his job hunt.

     He then came back to the counter and asked me about the color of my eyes. "Hazel? Just like mine."  And this is when I got freaked out.  Maybe it's because I watch 20/20 late at night with my mom and hear horror stories.  Maybe because I was a peer counselor in high school and learned all about homelessness and how sometimes mental instabilities can fuel the vicious cycle of homelessness and unemployment.  He proceeded to introduce using his first name and reached out to shake my hand.  I don't remember, but I think I said my first name.  He asked again about being called on Wednesday if he was hired and then left.  Then came the racing thoughts about how he knew my first name and how he could now find things about about me and stalk me or be waiting outside work when I got off etc.  Totally illegitimate.  On his application he had been convicted of a felony: "Annoying phone calls."  So that aided in my concern, but then I got to thinking. 

     In India I loved on, held, hugged, kissed the homeless.  I would talk to them, let them lead me around, play with their kids,  sit on the street with them, smile at them and laugh with them.  If this man was homeless (regardless, he was clearly in need,) then I should treat him the same way.  Treat him the way that Jesus treated the homeless.  Love them and love them fiercely.  Granted, I need to be careful and even in India, I didn't do those things with the men (cultural probs yada yada,) but thoughts turn to actions and if I think that I don't like someone or think that they're creepy, or think that they're ________ (fill in the blank,) then that's what my actions will show!

     I miss India and I miss the simplicity of loving.

He is and I am not.

I've sat down many times since I've been back in America and tried to write, but I was just left overwhelmed. So this post just remained in my mind as a jumbled collection of thoughts, emotions, frustrations, joys, struggles, etc.

So here I am- after prayer, contemplation, crying out to The Lord-trying to find the words to share with you.

I want to preface this with I am simply an 18 year old girl who strives to pursue The One True Lord with everything and fails daily, hourly.  My knowledge of Him is so limited, but while holding onto what I do know about Him and what I'm learning, I'm doing the best I can to understand what His Scriptures say and His desires, His will and His plans. I'm not an authority on the subject-just a girl trying to understand His love and trying to find my identity in Him.

Being back stateside isn't hard. It's easy. Living is so easy. If I need some macaroni and cheese, then I grab my purse complete with credit card, grab my car keys, get into my personal car, drive down paved streets with lines and rules and stop at street lights and for pedestrians (take that India!) to any of the 603 grocery stores in my city, and then I pull into a little compact car parking spot, walk through the aisles and aisles of food, find my macaroni among the 20 varieties, proceed to a self-checkout line, get in my car, drive home, put it in the microwave and enjoy.

I won't go into the process it takes for me to get my macaroni in India because they don't have macaroni! That's the point.

Living here is easy.  Life here isn't necessarily easy.  Life isn't easy anywhere.
But living here is easier.

Coming home brought many heartbreaks, tears, and frustrations .  Tears over the beautiful, God-fearing village women that I had to learn to love from a far, tears over the 100 slum children that I kissed, hugged, cuddled, carried, threw in the air, blew kisses to, cheek-squeezed, held hands with, drew with, played with, learned with,  grew with, loved with (yes, I just ended a sentence with a preposition).  I had to leave them in the precious and perfect hands of Jesus.  And that was hard for me.  I wish that I could say that it was easy, but it wasn't.  Trusting the unseen is sometimes hard for me.  And at times when it is, I remind myself of the character of God.
He is transcendent.
He is unchangeable.
He is eternal.
He is omnipresent.
He is wise.
He is good.
He is loving.
He is merciful.
He is graceful.
He is patient.
He is holy.
He is righteous and just.
He is jealous.
He is perfect.
He is beautiful.
He is glory-filled.

He is all of those attributes and more. So much more.

And just reading over that list helps me to realize that He is all those things and I am not. And He is what can really changes those children's lives and I am not. And He loves them more than I can even imagine possible. And that's what they need most of all.  That's what we all need most of all.

I left with a new world view.  I left seeing things that I had never seen.  I left living and loving people in the poorest economic state I'd ever seen.  I left people so lost and so caught up in the grips of their lostness.  I left complacent Indian Christians.  I left Indian Christians with a fire for the Lord and a passion for their own people. I left a slum of 4,000 precious people made in the image of God.  I left a slum where families say no to their daughters having reputable jobs because they make more in one night in the red light district.  I left a slum where children are stolen and trafficked.  I left a city, a state, a country that needs the scales removed from their eyes.  I left people and places so near and dear to my heart.  And my heart does ache for them.  And for those like them that I have yet to meet.

The Lord is redirecting my same passions and healing my achey breaky heart little by little.  During the offering at church yesterday, an Indian musician was leading the worship.  He lead a song that he had composed in English and then confessed that he felt lead by the Spirit to sing a Hindi song.  He sang a song that we sang every week in my Indian church.  I knew every word.  Jesus knew how brightly my heart was smiling. And I praise Him for moments like that.  Small moments that are still so special and so beautiful.