His Name is Chris

We all have them, moments of awakening, but I was struck with an unnatural clarity of shame and guilt during my moment of awakening this week.  My husband and I were out shopping sans children, and he took me to Starbucks to get me a "foo foo coffee" as he calls it.  The place was completely slammed and there was not an empty seat in the house, and I really wanted to sit and enjoy my drink.  He broke his cardinal rule of no food or drink in his car, under the strict promise that I would not spill and all trash was immediately removed. We were chatting about football, of all things, when I noticed a young man, pacing in front of a vacant store. The space was available to lease, and I assumed he was either there to look at it, or to show someone the property. Either way, I dismissed him out of hand rather quickly.

We finished our drinks, my husband with his juicebox (so grown-up), and me with my coffee, and we were strategizing our shopping game plan.  He was about to put the car in reverse to leave our spot, when the wandering man's face appeared at the driver's side window. All kinds of alarms went off in my mind.  Were we about to be robbed?  He looked extremely suspicious, and my instinct was to ignore him and leave, and had I been alone, I probably would have. My husband on the other hand lowers his window, and I tried to maintain my calm, wondering what we were opening ourselves up for.  The young man played with his hands, fumbling with them as he fumbled his words. He started off very point blank, "I am going to be honest.  I am begging.  I am a beggar." He explained his situation, how he was no longer homeless, but he begged to be able to help pay his rent, because he had no job. I stared at the empty coffee cup in my hand, and cringed as I listened to his speech, because I knew I had nothing to give him.  I rarely, if ever, keep cash on hand, nor does my husband. I braced myself for anger to come from him when he learned the truth of our cashless situation, which felt all the more ridiculous, because I was holding a Starbucks' cup and sitting right next to my husband was his new smartphone. I felt pompous and small, all at the same time. My husband engaged, and listened, and asked the guy his name.  It is Chris.  Then my husband revealed that Chris had stopped him in December in the parking lot of a nearby Best Buy, and he had given him money then.  Apparently, Chris's story had changed little over that time, except for the fact that now he was not homeless.  My husband emptied his wallet of three measly dollars, all he had, but I was glad he had something.  The guy thanked him and we left. But that encounter left me pensive.

He was a young guy.  Where were his parents?  Where were any other family members?  Was he completely alone in the world? How did he eat? What circumstances did he encounter to end up here? And then I felt guilty, knowing had I been alone, I would not have listened to him. Not because I would want to be a snob, but from a safety standpoint.  Talking to strange men in parking lots is not something I would do, or encourage any of my female friends or family members to do. In retrospect, I thought about all we could have offered.  Running to the grocery store to give him food, something more than three dollars.  But at the time I was shocked and perhaps a little uncomfortable. Further more, I was ashamed. I worry about money.  I strive to work within a budget, but there are times when things are tight.  However,   any financial worries I have are an opposing mockery that I had to confront, I AM rich. It echoed a sentiment that I heard in church Sunday morning.  Those that live in the United States are among the richest in the world. And while I acknowledged the fact at the time, it was driven home in that moment of realization. The disparate circumstances between us and him were glaring.

I couldn't shake the burdened heart I had.  I still can't.  I have no right to complain about what I don't have, ever. I know I do at times, and I know I will in times to come, but it is these types of awakenings that keep me grounded in the end.  I wish I didn't need to be reminded of how blessed I am, that it came naturally and effortlessly, but it doesn't.

I ask you to join me in praying for Chris, that God will touch his life in a miraculous way.  After all, I hear God is good at stuff like that.