It was, decidedly, a bizarre day. I was already sporting a mighty-sized headache after an emotional morning. But the seat in my car was loaded with returns, and I just wanted them gone. With one stop done, I headed out to the next place on the list. I pulled up to the light and came to a stop. Eye to eye with the homeless man holding a sign about his current state. I sighed. My window was already open. Seriously. I flashed back to the previous times I have dealt with this - (and even written about it here and here). I knew what I had to do. or so I thought.
I asked the man how he got to be in this place. He admitted right off the bat he had gotten himself into some legal trouble was fresh out of jail. The family he had in the area pretty much refused to acknowledge he existed. He was clean enough and well spoken. He said he was looking for work. I asked him what kind of skills he had. He did day laborer jobs where he could find them, but lamented that no one wants to hire the guy that checks the box on the job application that admits conviction of a crime. “I guess I need to lie to get a job”.
Yes, all this took place while at a red light. It’s a long light. I told him I would pray for him. He said he knew God was leading him in the right direction. I was encouraged. I gave him $20 bucks. I asked him his name. "DJ. DJ Collins.”
I drove away, glad to pray for DJ Collins. I was so impressed with myself that I remembered to ask his name (when this has happened before, I have always forgotten to ask). I was pleased at the “growth” I had shown since my last encounter of this kind. You know. Because it's all about me.
My next stop, ironically, was the bank. And while sitting at the ATM, I could not get DJ out of my mind. How easily I took greenbacks from the machine, replacing in a second what I had already handed over. I found myself thinking about heading back across the street. "Just give him the the rest" is what a voice was saying. "CRAZY!” I said back! SO, I didn’t go across the street. I went to do my next return. But, about half way there, the voice got louder. GO back. GO take him to lunch. GO find out his story. My head was pounding - but so was my heart. What kind of crazy idea is that? Yes, let’s have this middle-aged mom in the mini-van go pick up some random homeless guy and take him to Chili’s for lunch.
Yet, somehow, my van made a u-turn and was heading back to DJ. I had it all planned out. To minimize the risk, we’d sit outside at the Chili’s with lots of public exposure. I’d pay in cash. Never tell him my last name. Maybe I would have an idea for his employment. It would be great.
Alas, by the time I got back there , DJ was no where to be found. Frankly, my heart kind of fell. I scoured the parking lots on both sides of the street to no avail.
I have no idea what to make of this experience. I am not that person who talks to strangers on the street - frankly, I spent years ignoring them when I lived in DC. I don’t do things like this. And yet, here I am disappointed that I missed out on a opportunity to have lunch with a homeless man. Honestly, I wondered at some point today if aliens had taken over my brain and control of my car this afternoon. The whole experience has left me feeling very unsettled. Which usually means God is up to something and I’d better pay attention.
So, I will pray for DJ. DJ Collins.
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