Homeless in Chicago

It’s been a moment or two – ok maybe a tad bit more than that, since my last post. I find it hard to write (publicly that is) when things aren’t going, hmmmmm…my way, as Usher would say.

Although, lemons can only turn into lemonade with the correct recipe – and I’ve found it.

Through our church we (Danielle and I) were given the opportunity to prepare and distribute meals to the homeless in our area. This is something that I have always longed to do, whether it be on Christmas day at a soup kitchen, or handing out sandwiches on the street to the less fortunate – that being said, Danielle and I jumped at the opportunity.

The following week, we met at church to prepare these delectable meals.

On the menu: turkey and cheese sandwiches, until the cheese ran out – then it was just turkey. After the turkey ran out, it was on to peanut butter and jelly. The coordinator joked, “Every time we do this I have such a craving for peanut butter and jelly by the time I get home.”

After making around 400 delish sandwiches, we walked home with the snow falling at our heals – so happy we decided to skip our Wednesday evening shows (have you, they were dvr’ed for us when we arrived home) and join in on this event.

The next night we had to attend an orientation prior to the distribution of the meals. At this orientation we learned that they average age of a homeless person here in Chicago is nine. NINE years old! The idea that children were living on the streets shocked me. But as they further explained, due to lack of parental support – sometimes being out on the streets was safer than being home; with drug induced parents – dealers – or whomever was ‘home’ at the time.

So take a second to think about that. It is 'safer' to be on the streets, most having to perform sexual favors in order to receive a meal...than to be home - as any nine year old should be.

Orientation ended and we were off to fill some bellies. Now have you, this was February…it was windy and there was a chance of snow. Ended up WE were lucky…no snow for us – it was ONLY 20 degrees outside. Then again, why should I be the one complaining…I went home to a warm bed (even a heated blanket that is truly amazing…thx Lacey)…wonder where these people slept the night of the blizzard that was only a few weeks prior.

To say I wasn’t nervous at the beginning would be a lie. I had no idea what to expect. What I found, was unbelievable. To make a comparison would be to say it was like a block party. With people yelling and shouting towards each other, laughing and joking. The St. Augustine's crew was welcomed and appreciated…and looking back I can understand why. We were THROWING food at them (no not literally), along with toiletries to get them by the coming week. Most of these people were walking away with trash bags full of goodies…

They had a smile on their face and just wanted to chat – with someone who would not only listen, but converse back. They were kind and gracious…and in complete amazement to me – full of energy.

It really makes you think where you came from and how you were raised…but also, what you’re going to do in this world to leave your own stamp.

A couple days later I was walking to the train and saw two homeless men walking towards me. In the past I would have put my head down and walked right by…but this time – I looked them both straight in the eye with a smile and said: “Hi.” They both looked right back at me, in the amazement I had looked at ‘them’ a few night before, and said ‘hello’, right back.