I have more than I need. Way more. That is the overwhelming thought since yesterday. After church my husband started explaining something he felt called to do. He explained all the way around “it” before he told me what “it” was. I hate it when he does that. Just get to the punch line; I don’t like to be kept in suspense, it makes me feel vulnerable. He had a dream… God kept putting this idea on his heart… He felt like it was required of him… God had blessed him so much… (And I realize, I’m keeping you in suspense now, sorry!) He wanted to buy some ingredients from the grocery store and hand them out to homeless people downtown. There is no shortage of homeless people in Hawaii. Seriously. I guess if you are going to be homeless, this would be as good a place as any.
I was good picking the food out at the store, and providing a solution when lunch sacs weren’t an option. I was excited as the bags were being put together by my kids in the back seat. I was happy as we were driving into homeless land, and right up until the point that my husband said, “….get out of the truck.” The full sentence was something like, “Let me drive around and get a feel of the situation before we get out of the truck. I want you (talking to the kids) to talk with the people and you can say whatever you want when you hand them the bag, “God bless you” or “Jesus loves you.” That’s when I got a knot in my stomach, and fear started rising. Couldn’t we just drive by and hand the bags out of the window?
We did do that for the first couple of bags. The first man was living in a tent with a lady, and he was appreciative of the bag. He let us know that he was going to win the MMA fight with a prize of $25,000 and he was buying a plane ticket back to the mainland in a couple of days. (Since you weren’t there, I’ll let you in on a secret, he really wasn’t.) We passed out a few more bags to people who were walking by themselves. My husband was scared of a crowd rushing over to our vehicle. Then we circled around a park and handed out bags to two men. Tyler, Whitney and I got out while Drew was just a few feet away in the truck. One man motioned that he didn’t need a bag. He told me, “I’m good,” smiled, and gave me the shaka sign. It made me laugh.
We still had 11 bags left. My husband drove around to a place where a large group of people were sitting in front of a building. I’m not sure what the building was, maybe a shelter? We saw a bus from a church we visited dropping several people off. Drew parked at the nearby gas stationed and we walked up the sidewalk handing out bags. Ladies were the majority of this crowd, and a few children.
We gave the bags away to the much appreciative ladies. They smiled, said thank you, and some said, “God bless you.” I had to fight back tears, and summon my voice to speak. It wasn’t easy. They were so raw. The look in their eyes said that they were proud of me, for wanting to connect with them. But I am ashamed, because I am afraid to connect with them. I am not open, I don’t have to be on display at all times. I can hide. I cannot connect to them fully, because I live behind walls, and they do not.
