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Tell Your Friends
Sometimes, It Is All Worthwhile
I met R____ about five months ago. He is Hispanic, but while in prison last decade became a member of the Nation of Islam. He wanted nothing to do with me or “my Jesus”. In fact, he often set out to undermine me, telling the other homeless that I was a conman or a hustler. It is my nature to justify myself, but that whole turn the other cheek thing… Anyway, I made it a point to always be nice, to always try to talk to him, to learn as much as I could about him and his situation.
In November, I went back to Memphis for about 10 days to wrap up some business there and to celebrate Thanksgiving with the parents. When I came back, I was circulating among my contacts, re-establishing contact and finding out what had transpired in my absence. It turned out the someone had had an argument with R___ and spread rumors that he was selling crack (he was not). No one in his circle wanted to talk to him, no one wanted anything to do with him because of the rumors.
In my rounds, I saw him walking by himself down Fayetteville Street; he looked down and dejected and when I called out to him, he looked up at me with the saddest pair of dark eyes I have ever seen. I asked how things were going.
“Bad, man. Everyone has left me. Folks are telling lies about me. I didn’t do nothing.”
I told him that I had heard those rumors, and that they were pretty bad. Then I told him the best thing I could have ever said. “R____, I do not know what the truth is. But, any time you ever want to talk, I want to listen. I will be here for you, and any time you see me, I am happy to talk.”
His eyes lit up, and he smiled weakly. “Thanks,” he said. “I appreciate it.”
Over the next few weeks, I would see him at the soup kitchen, at the park, at the computer room at the library; all the usual homeless haunts, just like before. Now, however, he went out of his way to talk to me, to say hi, to wave across the room. Now I was in. We had occasional deep talks about everything from women to sports to religion to his daughter who is currently being kept by foster parents. It fascinated him that I was a follower of Jesus and did not hate Muslims. It shocked him that I knew the Five Pillars of Islam.
About a month ago, Renee went in the hospital for a heart problem she was having. I had planned to meet R____ and some others that afternoon, so I sent him a text, telling him Renee was in Wake Med and I would not be able to make it, and would he please tell everyone for me.
That night, there is a knock at the hospital door. It is R____, with a large grocery bag. He had went to all the homeless and told them “Hugh’s girl is in the hospital.” They took up a collection of sorts; bananas, small bags of chips, bologna sandwiches, candy bars and oranges filled the bag he brought us, all the remains of soup kitchen meals and bag lunches passed out in the park. Then he begged a dollar to catch the bus and brought it to us. His first questions after coming in the door were about Renee and how she was doing.
To say the least, we were overwhelmed. I thanked him for the stuff and the visit and he said the words that still bring tears to my eyes a month later as I write this. He said “Man, you are my brother. I love you guys. You are the only family I have here”.
I had not done that much, when you think about it. In January, his case worker told him he needed a phone number to get in touch with him, so some folks and I bought him a prepaid cell phone. Since prepaid minutes are expensive, I let him use my phone whenever he saw me to call home or to take care of business. He had no ID, so we took him to the Social Security Office and advocated for him with the folks there. When it came in, I took him to get his Photo ID; he was positively beaming, he was so proud that now he would be able to work and get off the streets. I let him use my computer so he could apply online at the local grocery store and wrote him a letter of reference for a job application. He did it all, we just made it easier.
Last Sunday was the first night R____ spent inside, in his own place, in over six months. It was the first time he could take a shower and not worry about time limits in six months. He did not have to wake up at 5:30 to be gone before Security ran him off and he was able to hang his clothes up on clothes hangers and put them in his closet.
Admittedly, things are not easy yet. He is waiting on his first paycheck, so he is living on Raman noodles and white rice. He is sleeping in a room that is the size of my first car. He hears gunshots every night as he goes to sleep on the hard floor because there is no money yet for a bed.
There is light for him at the end of the tunnel. He has a plan, a series of next steps to take. He is trying to reconcile what it means to him and his faith that he is Muslim, yet the folks helping him are followers of Jesus and not Muhammad. For the first time in over a year, he has hope and a future.
One last thing: The other day, someone I did not know asked R___ (supposedly out of my hearing) who I was and what I was doing out there. I could not help but smile when I heard him say “That’s Hugh. He loves us.”
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