I caught my
breath and my eyes welled with tears as I fought for my composure. "Yes, sir,"
I answered the bearded homeless man sitting alone at the table. "I see you
clearly. Are you ready for your lunch?" As I placed the tray before the crippled
man, he looked up at me and his eyes twinkled with the same intensity as my Dallas downtown skyline
view on a Saturday night. He knew he wasn't invisible. And I knew for a moment,
at that moment, I wasn't either.
During the
next 90 minutes, my fellow volunteers and I served food and poured and refilled
the water glasses for over 700 men and women. My city view was eyeball to
eyeball, our hands often touching as we passed the glasses back and forth. I
could feel them, I could smell them, and most importantly I could see them - and
I knew they could see me. Each person connected with me and I with them as we
exchanged pleasantries in the crowded dining hall. When I spilled water on the
floor, we locked eyes and laughed together about my poor waitressing skills. At
the end of my shift, my heart raced, my spirit was buoyed, and my soul sang. I
was connected to the human race.
I needed
this.
I love
community. I love neighbors. I love the energy that is created by lots of
people in a given space. So needless to say, moving into an apartment building,
I looked forward to connecting with a community - if only in the elevator. But
I quickly found out that the city is not the place to make friends.
When we
first moved in, our young neighbors would get on the elevator with their heads
down, texting on their phones. They never looked up; I swear, I thought I was
invisible! They'd enter the downstairs gym in a dazed state of sleep
deprivation, connected to their iPods like a permanent appendage; and, even on
the tread mill - I was invisible. I watched them come and go through the lobby,
always talking on the phone - they're so verbally connected to one another, but
not to me. Do they know what it means to look into a stranger's eyes, to
connect with them as a fellow human being? Or must you share a mobile phone
number in order to be a part of this generation's world?
I have been
greatly amused and surprised by the fact that it was our homeless people, more
than the young, urban professionals I see daily, who made me feel alive during
my first months of living in the city. It was the homeless folks who energized
me. It was those without a home who made me feel a welcomed addition to this
great city. And it was those who make their beds on a concrete sidewalk who awakened
me to the concept of invisibility and the importance of connecting with our
eyes ... if only for a moment.
Our greatest strength
as a human race is our ability to acknowledge our differences,
our greatest weakness
is our failure to embrace them. - Judith Henderson
So I made
it my mission to see my high-rise neighbors and for them to see me. They are
likely confused and amused by my extrovert greetings in the halls; in the
parking garage; in the elevator - and I'm sure I'm absolutely obnoxious to them
at 6:30 a.m. in the gym. But over the past several weeks, I have seen a change.
I have made it a point to reach out and welcome them to my world. And yes, I've
even made a couple of friends (who probably think I'm a nut job). But they will
know that they arenot invisible to me. I will extend to
them the same welcoming spirit my homeless friends have extended to me. I
welcome them to my world. We are, together, a part of the human race.
Giving them
the twinkle eye,
Ellen
P.S.
Wishing you a week of purposeful reflection on all we have to be thankful for!
Posted by Ellen on November 24, 2008 1:34 PM
| Category: A City View
Hi Ellen,
I googled my name a while back (you would think a 40 something mom of 4 little ones would have more to do ... and I do... I just needed something mindless for a brief moment.) anyhow, in doing so, I stumbled upon your very interesting site. I make it a point to check in now and then, and am encouraged by what you write. Your topic today really made a point about our world. It is a plague I am trying hard to help my own children avoid falling into. (not homelessness, well, that too, but treating anyone as if they might be invisible) I could really go on and on, but you said it so much better than I could. So I just wanted to say that I am thankful I ran into your site, it came at a time when I really needed the inspiration I have received from some of your writings. Blessings to you.
