Signs

My son recently returned from a class trip to New York.  It was the first time he had been out of the state.  As you can imagine the city left a lingering impression on my country mouse (don't tell him I called him that).  Anyway of all the things that we talked about concerning his trip he shared that he would never forget an old homeless man who wasn't panhandling or begging for money but had a sign that said simply Please talk to me.  He said they struck up a conversation about everything and nothing --  the weather,  New York,  what his group was doing in the city --  and when his chaperon called, he said goodbye and left.  We continued to chat about his adventure in the big city, but I couldn't stop thinking about the man with the sign.

How painful it must be to feel so invisible that you have to ask people to awknowledge you.   How is this possible? you ask and if it goes on long enough What is wrong with them? sadly becomes What is wrong with me? You disappear one small bit at a time vanishing with each stroke of the second hand and there seems to be nothing that you can do to stop it.   Finally, you throw up a smoke signal, a last attempt,   a sign.

I am reminded of Ted Williams the Homeless Man with the Golden Voice that became famous not too long ago.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jaGLDKBE8Ho  He penned his life on a cardboard sign and countless people over the years looked right through him... until finally someone saw him - really saw him,  and his life was changed.  Now I don't mean to over romanticize it.    I am aware that we can  be our own worst enemy.  Still, there is  a depth of desperation  that drives plaintive exposure so completely that it overrides what we think we  would never do.    When it becomes clear that if we don't lay it all down we will vaporize in plain sight of the multitudes that pass us by,  we make a sign.

Here's the thing:  We have all made signs.  Some are literall,  written with cardboard and magic marker:   Will work for food.  Spare change.  I am homeless.  Please talk to me.  Some written on our hearts using alcohol, medication, food, sex, or drugs:   I am broken.  I am lonely.  I am scarred.  Please talk to me.    The phrase "....there will be poor always..." is  as much about character and  spirit as it is about economics.  There but for the grace of God go I,  is not a statement of fact based on His way of playing favorites;  it is  a mandate.  God puts us in  position to read the signs that others  hold up everyday.   Sometimes we walk right past each other not looking, not seeing,  not realizing that we are there at that very place and time for no other purpose but  TO BE the grace of God for someone else.