Human "beings" vs. human "doings"
I worked down town at the time and saw many a homeless being. My co-workers said mean things about "them" making jokes...some even said they were "in their prayers". Talking to "them" was simply out of the question. The down-towners never made eye-contact and did not offer anything of the charitable sort, let alone... money or understanding. It made me wonder what the difference between a human being and a human doing, is exactly. Yes, these were fine upstanding people... Christians, for the most part. They were contributing at the office and at the church, you know important people. I had a reputation for being a magnet for weirdos and it usually was that I was approached on breaks and lunch, by these lonely people. No one wanted to go on break with me because they knew it would result in some kind of interaction with..."them" It was common knowledge and a joke on the corporate level. I didn't mind...everyday was a new adventure. I wrote a letter on the back of a picture frame, dictated by a woman who insisted I write exactly as she dictated. It was a letter to her sister. I listened to their distress, gave them cigarettes and pieces of myself. I enjoyed what they had to say. I had no problem looking into their eyes, which is the window to the soul. I always saw the human...being.
No one knew I had a husband that, if not for loving him, might have ended up that same way. I had a heart for these folks...knowing full well there is something to this thing called: existence. I thought them quite endearing and they somehow just knew they could talk to me or ask if they had boogers in their nose or some spare change. Instead of being gagged by the fact that they wreaked of urine , I was gagged by the inhumane treatment of these people. Often there was human feces on the street and my thought was this: yes, it's a jungle out there and we are making some folks live like animals! I never understood what it would hurt to have public restrooms for folks who live on the street, whether or not they chose to or were forced by life's circumstances. My therapist told me to get more jobs so I could take them all home and support them.
A particular incident comes to mind. Billy Graham was in town for a week end of revival. While walking up to the stadium, I became suddenly interested in a shouting homeless man. He was ranting about his friend who died "right here" 3 days ago! He was so distraught and frantic he couldn't stop yelling about how no one cared that his friend had just died. When he saw me, he said, "I need a hug" and so I did. My friend was appalled and said to me later, "My God, you could have gotten some disease from him" I suppose so, but I never did. I got a blessing instead.
Another time, I was walking across the Burnside bridge. It was a phase I was having combining free parking and exercise. I was alone that day and ahead of me was a man in a tattered army coat. He was yelling obscenities and flailing his arms. He was quite upset and my thought was: I'm gonna catch up to this guy....no matter what speed of walking. Because he was so upset I wondered if I would pass him or catch up to him...I suppose it could have gone either way. I worried that he might push me off the bridge or freak-out on me in some way....but I kept moving forward and as fate would have it, we were soon walking side by side. While adamantly expressing his anger I noticed that the things he was saying although somewhat unintelligible...yet familiar. I recognised the Viet Nam era, his age and ...the anger. He was obviously a veteran..who was pissed off. I agreed with him, just nodding my head and saying "yeah" from time to time. He turned to me and angrily said "what the hell do you know about it?". In that moment I put my arm around his shoulder and said, " I understand, my husband is a vet" His angry eyes were full of tears and he melted before me, right then, and said, "yeah?" He became my new best friend and I, his. I knew, right then, he would have defended me to the death without question, just for the fact that my husband had served. His focus became all about sharing his war experience and by the end of the bridge we were fast friends. He smelled of alcohol and urine, but I hugged him anyway because I'm pretty sure he hadn't received anything but rejection for a very long time. His parting words were: "tell your husband Charlie loves him" I often wonder if guys like these are any one's brother, son, uncle or friend. I am thankful for the love that I have been given to share with the unlovable. I've been referred to as: FRIEND OF THE FRIENDLESS.
It never ceases to amaze me how much easier it is to love this kind of person (the weirdos) rather than the productive "human doing" with all their accomplishments. I am happy I can appreciate the miracle of the human spirit...call me crazy, I'm a just another human...being.
