Just Passin' Time
I’ve had some jam-packed few days the past few days. I haven’t been able to get much sleep and I haven’t had time to sit at the computer to keep up my journal. It seems that I either write or I photograph or I just pass time. Lately, I’ve been taking pictures and passing time; I haven’t done much writing. I’ll try to catch you up on what’s up here.
Today, I went to Waconia to visit my disabled and elderly friends. As I left home, I took a little-used dirt road about a mile from my house. As I rounded a dusty curve, I was surprised by a critter I’d never seen in the wild; a peacock. I took a couple of pictures, and began to drive away; that thing squawked in a voice I’d never heard before. Now, I understand why people keep those birds as watchdogs or watch-cocks or whatever they’re called.
When I got to Waconia, I stopped to visit Scottie, a good friend of mine. I met Scottie almost ten years ago when he lived on the streets. Today, he has a small apartment in Waco, funded in part by the County HRA. He’s developed a few hobbies; bird watching, flower watering and volunteering with me when I visit the homeless. He’s also a member on the board of HOPE of Minnesota.
Scottie’s proud of his place, and grateful that he doesn’t live on the street anymore. He has a nice apartment, and his front yard is full of donated flowers and bird houses and feeders. All of his flowers were donated by The Plant Lady in Waconia. Have you been to the Plant Sale Today! yet?
As I was leaving Waconia, I stopped by The Plant Lady’s house. Her driveway is jammed full of colorful pots. I usually grab a few flowers or plants to give to my friends; she never lets me pay for a thing. Today, I picked up a cucumber plant and a flat of colorful flowers to take to homeless camps in the cities. When the homeless have a plant to care for and water, they often take better care of their own selves. That’s kind of how love works when you pass it on.
SUNDAY, JULY 09, 2006
Measure of Compassion
When I feed the homeless on the streets, I have no kitchen to prep meals; I manage from the back of a Dodge van. I’ve cooked hot meals, served cold sandwiches, and delivered pizza parties from a converted bus, a pickup truck and a NorthFace day pack. I always wear foodservice gloves and use sanitizing wipes when I prep, but I still like to wash up good whenever I can. I make and serve simple meals and I let my friends do the doctoring to their personal tastes.
I always carry clean water for personal consumption, for sharing and for washing. I’m not compulsive about cleanliness, but I eat what I serve, so I serve clean. I always prepare meals fresh (John 21), and I even visit homey gardens so I can gather fresh produce to serve with meals.
I like to serve my friends in the shade of trees, not walls. Sometimes, I pack what I serve back into little clumps of woods where the homeless hide to pass the time. The homeless seem to spend a lot of time passing time, and hiding. When I sit with my friends, I watch as they fiddle their hands and shuffle their feet and check their pockets; and then repeat the process with precision. Today, one friend picked up a stick, rubbed his hand off on his pants, and then blew his nose into the air. And then, I watched him eat. It’s the same with most of my friends; they don't have a place to wash up before they eat.
In fact, most homeless have no place at all to clean up. When you live on the streets, road rash grows behind your ears and you develop a campy air about you. I think one thing the general public holds against the poor and homeless is that many don’t practice good personal hygiene. That’s mostly because there is no place for the homeless to wash up. I know I like to wash up a couple of times every day, and I think the homeless would too, if they could.
City folks and business people think that if they build public bathrooms, the homeless will come, and they will stay. A city’s compassion toward the poor and the homeless should be measured by the quality of public bathrooms provided to those who have no permanent address. And in the City of Minneapolis, the level of compassion toward the homeless stinks.
Today, I went to Waconia to visit my disabled and elderly friends. As I left home, I took a little-used dirt road about a mile from my house. As I rounded a dusty curve, I was surprised by a critter I’d never seen in the wild; a peacock. I took a couple of pictures, and began to drive away; that thing squawked in a voice I’d never heard before. Now, I understand why people keep those birds as watchdogs or watch-cocks or whatever they’re called.
When I got to Waconia, I stopped to visit Scottie, a good friend of mine. I met Scottie almost ten years ago when he lived on the streets. Today, he has a small apartment in Waco, funded in part by the County HRA. He’s developed a few hobbies; bird watching, flower watering and volunteering with me when I visit the homeless. He’s also a member on the board of HOPE of Minnesota.
Scottie’s proud of his place, and grateful that he doesn’t live on the street anymore. He has a nice apartment, and his front yard is full of donated flowers and bird houses and feeders. All of his flowers were donated by The Plant Lady in Waconia. Have you been to the Plant Sale Today! yet?
As I was leaving Waconia, I stopped by The Plant Lady’s house. Her driveway is jammed full of colorful pots. I usually grab a few flowers or plants to give to my friends; she never lets me pay for a thing. Today, I picked up a cucumber plant and a flat of colorful flowers to take to homeless camps in the cities. When the homeless have a plant to care for and water, they often take better care of their own selves. That’s kind of how love works when you pass it on.
SUNDAY, JULY 09, 2006
Measure of Compassion
When I feed the homeless on the streets, I have no kitchen to prep meals; I manage from the back of a Dodge van. I’ve cooked hot meals, served cold sandwiches, and delivered pizza parties from a converted bus, a pickup truck and a NorthFace day pack. I always wear foodservice gloves and use sanitizing wipes when I prep, but I still like to wash up good whenever I can. I make and serve simple meals and I let my friends do the doctoring to their personal tastes.
I always carry clean water for personal consumption, for sharing and for washing. I’m not compulsive about cleanliness, but I eat what I serve, so I serve clean. I always prepare meals fresh (John 21), and I even visit homey gardens so I can gather fresh produce to serve with meals.
I like to serve my friends in the shade of trees, not walls. Sometimes, I pack what I serve back into little clumps of woods where the homeless hide to pass the time. The homeless seem to spend a lot of time passing time, and hiding. When I sit with my friends, I watch as they fiddle their hands and shuffle their feet and check their pockets; and then repeat the process with precision. Today, one friend picked up a stick, rubbed his hand off on his pants, and then blew his nose into the air. And then, I watched him eat. It’s the same with most of my friends; they don't have a place to wash up before they eat.
In fact, most homeless have no place at all to clean up. When you live on the streets, road rash grows behind your ears and you develop a campy air about you. I think one thing the general public holds against the poor and homeless is that many don’t practice good personal hygiene. That’s mostly because there is no place for the homeless to wash up. I know I like to wash up a couple of times every day, and I think the homeless would too, if they could.
City folks and business people think that if they build public bathrooms, the homeless will come, and they will stay. A city’s compassion toward the poor and the homeless should be measured by the quality of public bathrooms provided to those who have no permanent address. And in the City of Minneapolis, the level of compassion toward the homeless stinks.
posted by Kelly at 9:00 PM
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