Blankets in Denver

I went downtown with a couple of friends tonight to give blankets to the homeless. I've been downtown a few other times to give out food mostly. Hot dogs, sandwiches, hot cocoa. Every experience is unique, and I find that every time I go, a little more personal the experience becomes, if that makes sense. If not, hopefully it will.

Unfortunately, I've only been 3 times. You never forget the faces.

The first time, I talked with an elderly man who had a walker. He was overweight, had an impressive beard, glasses, needed dental work. I can't remember his name, but he loved star trek and devoured star trek novels. He was a patriot, ex-military, self proclaimed theologian and bible scholar. I enjoyed talking with him, and did so for probably thirty minutes. He also enjoyed hand rolled tobacco cigarettes. Unfortunately, I can't remember his name. Robert is the connection I've built with his face, so that is what I'll call him. I pray for Robert.

You find that most of the time, the men down there are not so far removed from yourself. In fact, they are mostly you, just with unfortunate circumstances, whether those circumstances be willed or forced.

Next, I had to convince my friend Mike to go. I told him it was both a blessing and an honor. An unforgettable experience. He acquiesced. We went down there, and ended up talking with 2 guys. A tall black man, who looked relatively nice for his time on the streets. “A street preacher” he called himself. He was very charismatic and excited. His theology was a little goofy, but damn if he didn't love GOD. I believe his name was Felix. He had been spending his time with a little old Thai man named Tom, I believe. His english was very hard to understand, and I didn't spend anywhere near as much time with him as I did Felix. He was very amiable, and encouraged all of us around him to make sure we get good educations so we didn't have to be where they were. Tom hugged us on our way out. I pray for Felix and Tom.

You find that these guys... these guys just want to talk to you. They just want to be heard. The best thing to do is just listen to them and talk with them. There is an infectious spirit here. Something that's hard to miss and not get caught up in. Whatever bizarre delusions you get about these men vanishes when you see them at their most vulnerable.

Tonight, 2 of our 3 membered party talked with a group of three men. Tom broke my heart. Seeing a man cry does something unnatural to your heart. Perhaps the problem is that it's too natural, but experienced too little. Tom told us how he has a job, a job he has to walk to, and it's not a convenient distance away. He has to walk for several hours before he gets there. He had been staying at Jesus Saves downtown, but got kicked out that very same night because they accused him of smuggling in a half gallon jar of vodka the night before. He said he didn't, citing that he had nowhere to hide it. I will assume he's telling the truth. It felt as if he was.

He told us a rending story of living in California with his girlfriend of fifteen years, and then faced a month of incredible hardship. His house burned down, his girlfriend was arrested, there were other events, events I didn't ask about. These events led him here to Colorado, where he continued to fail to get footing in his life. He's been on the street for a little over one year now. He feels that every time he's about to step on firm ground, the devil knocks him off. He cried when he told us he wasn't sure if he would wake up in time to get to work. He cried again before we left. He said that when he's just about at the end of his rope, ready to throw in the towel, give up, write it all off, strangers come along and give him a blanket. His metaphor saying, “GOD cares about me.” Tom's story is breaking. The man's educated: he's a male nurse and was relatively successful. He's smart. He knows, and he's lived. Now I can only assume he's sleeping on cold ground in downtown Denver. Tears gather at my eyes as I type this. I pray for Tom. Tom breaks my heart.

Todd was there too. Todd looked smart. Todd looked as if he was a character that knew more than he was telling, but was slowly laying his cards on the table, revealing things piece by piece. He did none of that with us, but he had that feeling to him. He admits that he is an alcoholic, and that's what keeps him there. He's been there for three years. He's quick to admit that it's his fault, however, and not the fault of others. He didn't divulge his story. He seemed content to sit and listen, eyes closed, mouth over his hand, pure concentration. He told us of kids coming downtown to give each person a dollar, and watching “the gluttons” come along and try to grab fistfuls of dollars from the hands of these children. “The dollar won't help you out of your situation,” says Todd. “The dollar is merely a symbol, a gesture. It's the kids saying, 'we know you're here, and we care.' That's what the dollar says. Trying to snatch the stack of dollars from the kids only steals their resolve. It hardens their heart to you and scares them. The important thing is to not stop what you're doing. Don't give up. You can't give up.” His story to us. He checked out early. He had a room at Jesus Saves and had to get to bed. I would have liked to have heard more from him. I pray for Todd.

Angel I heard the least from. He seemed content to listen, occasionally throwing out an anecdote or detail. It seemed clear that this talk was to be centered on Tom. Tom was the one having a hard time. Angel was clearly the youngest of the group, though still older than myself. He had been released from prison in August, and had been on the street since. He spent two years in prison, what for, we didn't ask and he didn't say. That's fine. It's in the past, and that's where it belongs. Angel looked like he was the closest to getting out of there, like he was the one that had adjusted quickest to his system, and the one to most quickly utilize it. He had a job, and a room at Jesus Saves. He and Tom got into a light theological debate about the nature of struggle, and what that means in the life of a Christian. All three men claimed Christ, and it felt genuine. Angel seemed pretty happy and less troubled than Todd and Tom. I pray for Angel.

The things that cause these conversations are kind of strange, benign, almost unseen and minuscule. I talked to Robert because whoever was first talking to him passed him off on me, not wanting to talk to someone who's going to nerd talk about Star Trek. I talked to Tom and Felix because Chelsea talked to Felix, Mike talked to Tom, and I didn't want to leave my friends, being the only two in the group I knew. I talked to Todd, Angel and Tom because an old man I'd given a blanket to shouted “GOD bless you,” and I shouted back, “God bless you, wait, let me shake your hand.” I shook their hands, then I talked with them for thirty minutes. Tom got a batman blanket.

I shook their hand.