The Least Of These

I think I saw Jesus today.

I'm traveling this week with my family up the West Coast on a family trip. We're taking a RV for the first time, hitting some great spots. Ashland has great food and a wonderful downtown. Believe the waitress when she tries to sell you a bottle of Medford wine over a cheaper Napa brand. Nice wine.

Today we spent the entire day visiting Seattle. We saw the Space Needle, the Pike's Place Market, but we missed the fish throwers. The immigration rally was taking place downtown and made for a really bad traffic flow. (Note to self: Next time join the rally or stay the hell away.)

As we walked towards the fish market, a woman named Lenora walked up to me. She was obviously homeless and didn't have any shoes on. She tried to sell me a story on how she needed money for a key deposit for the shelter. I didn't really need a story. I knew it was most likely a lie, but it didn't matter. This was my moment to meet Lenora.

I don't like to think about giving to the homeless. What I mean by that is I want to have my hand on my wallet ready to give before they ask. I want this for my own soul. I want to give because in giving I validate myself. In recognizing Lenora's dignity, I lift my own.

I didn't really let her finish her story and I just felt like $20 was the right answer. I don't know how to explain that other than I just went with my heart and gut and what felt right at the moment. I've given to homeless people before but something was different this time. I looked into my wallet and then went to the local coffee house to get some change. I bought a coffee and then went back to Lenora. I handed her a twenty and then asked her if she wanted the coffee. She smiled at me as though I had saved the world that day. Believe it or not the coffee meant more to her than the money at the moment.

I asked her if she like cream or sugar and she did, so I took the coffee back and got it for her. I found out that most coffee establishments in Seattle won't allow the homeless in unless they have shoes. Lenora didn't. I went back and got her cream and Equal, four packets.

While I was gone, Lenora talked with my children and was deeply gracious to them. She made my son laugh and complimented him on his Spiderman skills, which he loved. I returned and handed her the coffee just the way she liked it.

I introduced her to my family and they all were gracious to her. Lenora really didn't know how to act. I left and she was beaming.

I recount this story because I recognized something in the giving that I had never seen before. In giving her money, I was satisfying a present need in her. She may have been telling the truth about the key deposit. Or she may have been waiting for her next heroin dose. I'll never know. But in just giving money, and walking on, I have missed something in the giving.

What I do know is that when I stopped and served her, got her coffee, went back for cream and sugar, she lit up. My recognition of her dignity was infinitely more valuable to her, represented in the simple cup of coffee. As I walked away with my family, she held onto it as though it were gold. It had become a symbol that she was still valuable in this world.

The experience made me wonder, no realize, that the heart can still be touched with love. It made me question our methods of dealing with the homeless and that our first response should be to restore the dignity. It made me realize that there is a human being, deeply valued on the other end of the $20. And when I've done my giving, and walked on by, I've missed the real gift in giving.

I want to thank Lenora for helping me see that.