JMJ
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It is not often that I post, and even rarer for me to post on something of inspiration. But I was asked by a priest, whom I respect very much, to share this story with all of you and so I do. Perhaps a little background story to begin...
The word on the street is that I am a softy when it comes to the poor, materially or spiritually, and so I have to find little ways to carry out these good desires that the Lord has blessed me with. Over the years these little ways have taken on different forms and titles, but they were all inspired by the same charism given by the Lord. As of late, these little ways have taken on a new form in the way of distributing sandwiches and prayers in the streets of downtown Chicago. So on a given Saturday morning I will drive down to the village train station with my good friend Jamie, and we'll catch the 9:10a to Union Station.
We travel light, typically it is just the two of us, and we bring along two backpacks full of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (breakfast of champions, as well as those of us who are not quite champions!). The train line takes about an hour, so we tend to fill the time with childish games and terrible jokes about the unknown lives of all the travelers who are venturing into the city with us. This is of course followed by the hustle and bustle of our departure where I glory in my ability to see over everyone else (that's awful). Eventually, however, we make our way into the streets of Chi-town and life becomes ever more real. That is not to say it becomes serious, but poignantly sincere.
Jamie and I reenacted this very routine, just this day, and our little way was filled with great sincerity. I say this as I remember the tears in Jamie's eyes and the warmth in my heart. Because today we looked into one of our homeless brother's face and there we both saw Christ more profoundly that we had either seen him before. He said his name was Willie Brown. I cannot tell you how tall he was because he was sitting in a wheel chair, which hid his true stature. But I can tell you that he was a man of greatness in his soul. We met him about mid-morning, as the sun was just beginning to break the icy grip of the previous night. He did not appear extraordinary, indeed from first glance Willie was no more than your typical street corner pan-handler. And it was through Willie's weather beaten, street ridden eyes that Christ chose to share with us His great love. Imagine if you will, the two of us, Jamie and I, standing on the Corner of Michigan Ave. and Washington St., there to our left rose the Chicago Cultural Center building and to our right is Millennium Park, two great beauties of Chicago. And yet sitting in front of us, and capturing our full attention is a man wrinkled and toughened, with all the of unpleasantness of the streets written into the creases of his face. We offered him our mere sandwiches, and he offered us the joy of the Lord. He wanted the sandwiches to go to the less fortunate and youthful homeless. He wanted our hearts not to be saddened, but to rejoice with him in all the wonders and gifts of the Lord. He wanted the few dollars we had to go to the new homeless men that he has seen on the street, and more yet he wanted the few dollars he had as well to go to those who were in even greater need than he. Willie looked us both in the eyes as we shook his hand - not because we wanted to leave, but because he knew that there were people who were waiting on our little gifts - and there on that street corner he asked for God's blessing upon us and our lives. Our short friendship, Willie said, 'might not come together again on this earth, but in heaven we will be rejoicing in the Lord forever, together!"
At the end of the block we turned the corner, Jamie with his tears and I with my warmth, and both of us with our sandwiches. I sincerely hope we meet up with Willie on our next little way, but even if -like he said, our short friendship does not meet up again - perhaps by my sharing with you this little story, you might just meet Willie in your own little way.
The word on the street is that I am a softy when it comes to the poor, materially or spiritually, and so I have to find little ways to carry out these good desires that the Lord has blessed me with. Over the years these little ways have taken on different forms and titles, but they were all inspired by the same charism given by the Lord. As of late, these little ways have taken on a new form in the way of distributing sandwiches and prayers in the streets of downtown Chicago. So on a given Saturday morning I will drive down to the village train station with my good friend Jamie, and we'll catch the 9:10a to Union Station.
We travel light, typically it is just the two of us, and we bring along two backpacks full of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (breakfast of champions, as well as those of us who are not quite champions!). The train line takes about an hour, so we tend to fill the time with childish games and terrible jokes about the unknown lives of all the travelers who are venturing into the city with us. This is of course followed by the hustle and bustle of our departure where I glory in my ability to see over everyone else (that's awful). Eventually, however, we make our way into the streets of Chi-town and life becomes ever more real. That is not to say it becomes serious, but poignantly sincere.
Jamie and I reenacted this very routine, just this day, and our little way was filled with great sincerity. I say this as I remember the tears in Jamie's eyes and the warmth in my heart. Because today we looked into one of our homeless brother's face and there we both saw Christ more profoundly that we had either seen him before. He said his name was Willie Brown. I cannot tell you how tall he was because he was sitting in a wheel chair, which hid his true stature. But I can tell you that he was a man of greatness in his soul. We met him about mid-morning, as the sun was just beginning to break the icy grip of the previous night. He did not appear extraordinary, indeed from first glance Willie was no more than your typical street corner pan-handler. And it was through Willie's weather beaten, street ridden eyes that Christ chose to share with us His great love. Imagine if you will, the two of us, Jamie and I, standing on the Corner of Michigan Ave. and Washington St., there to our left rose the Chicago Cultural Center building and to our right is Millennium Park, two great beauties of Chicago. And yet sitting in front of us, and capturing our full attention is a man wrinkled and toughened, with all the of unpleasantness of the streets written into the creases of his face. We offered him our mere sandwiches, and he offered us the joy of the Lord. He wanted the sandwiches to go to the less fortunate and youthful homeless. He wanted our hearts not to be saddened, but to rejoice with him in all the wonders and gifts of the Lord. He wanted the few dollars we had to go to the new homeless men that he has seen on the street, and more yet he wanted the few dollars he had as well to go to those who were in even greater need than he. Willie looked us both in the eyes as we shook his hand - not because we wanted to leave, but because he knew that there were people who were waiting on our little gifts - and there on that street corner he asked for God's blessing upon us and our lives. Our short friendship, Willie said, 'might not come together again on this earth, but in heaven we will be rejoicing in the Lord forever, together!"
At the end of the block we turned the corner, Jamie with his tears and I with my warmth, and both of us with our sandwiches. I sincerely hope we meet up with Willie on our next little way, but even if -like he said, our short friendship does not meet up again - perhaps by my sharing with you this little story, you might just meet Willie in your own little way.
