You Can Toss A Coin, But A Smile May Last Longer

For the last little while, I've been reading "A Simple Path" by Mother Teresa. She provides no-nonsense, practical advice on how to serve others. What I most enjoy about reading her book is the wisdom presented is not just Mother Teresa's. She invited her tireless volunteers–the lovely souls that have immersed themselves in her vision–to also share their lessons, ideas and gentle reminders. One little excerpt that has been particularly resonating with me comes from Brother Geoff, who was a General Servant of the Missionaries of Charity Brothers. He stated:

"Certainly, love is expressed first in being with before doing to someone. We have to continually renew our awareness of this because we can get caught up in a lot of the doing for. You see, if our actions do not first come from the desire to be with a person, then it really becomes just social work. When you are willing to be with a poor person you can recognize his need and if your love is genuine you naturally want to do what you can as an expression of your love. Service, in a way, is simply a means of expressing your being for that person–and often with the poorest people you cannot completely alleviate their problem. But by being with them, by being for them, whatever you can do for them makes a difference."

Being with vs. doing to. Connecting vs. donating. Homeless people have names. They are a son or a daughter. They have stories. Ken is someone in our community I've become familiar with. I first noticed him a couple of years ago during the summer months, sitting outside of the Grand Theatre asking for money during the lunch hour. I would walk by him while on my way to eat my lunch at Victoria Park and would politely apologize for not having any spare change. One day, I decided it was time to get to know this person I see every day. I was on my way to Victoria Park and instead of our usual interaction, I stopped walking, looked him in the eye and started a conversation that went something like this:

"Excuse me, what's your name?"
"Ken."
"Hi Ken. I see you out here every day and just wanted to say hello. My name is Chantelle." and I shook his hand.  "Are you hungry?"
"I sure am."
"I've got a beef & cheese sandwich for lunch to day, would you like half?"
"Sure."

I carefully took the sandwich out of my lunch bag and gave him half. He thanked me and I told him I would see him around.

 And see him around I have. Over the last two years we've often crossed paths downtown and always greet each other with a smile and have a quick conversation whenever we see each other. One time, I offered him my apple and he jovially pointed at his gummy smile and said, "I can't eat apples. I have no teeth!" I quickly apologized and together we laughed at my rather awkward moment.

Ken and I have become a familiar face to each other on an otherwise crowded street. I am for Ken. I think about him. I wish him happiness–whatever that looks like for him. I dream for him, too. I dream that whatever suffering he is enduring, he is one day able to use it to propel himself into a better life.

I know there are some out there who would cry, "but wishing and dreaming does not alleviate poverty." You're right. But creating policies and shelters do not create community. Warmth and compassion is a powerful currency and it is inclusive. It requires leaving your comfort zone more so than dropping a coin in a hat, but doesn't all being with?