Kindness and the presence of strength

Some weeks ago, I was walking to a function in downtown Washington, DC. The directions I had been given were not entirely accurate, and it was 8:00 a.m. on a very chilly morning. I had not worn the warmest of jackets and was grumbling to myself about how inconvenient this journey was for me. While circling around to find my destination, I walked past the entrance to a store. The entrance was recessed within a short flight of stairs and at the bottom of the stairs were two men in sleeping bags.

They were not there for an early bird special.

It was an obvious fact that they were homeless and the sleeping bags were gifts (voluntary or otherwise). One or both of them might have been dead. One had his head buried deep within the bag. The other had his eyes open staring blankly past me.

The coldness I felt suddenly had nothing to do with temperature.

My perspective changed in that instant along with my knowledge of how totally helpless I was to change their situation. The kind thing to do would be to give them some money so that they could eat (I was presuming they would use the money for food, not drugs, but who knows?). Another kind action would have been to sit with them and talk about their situation, and I could offer them ideas about how to find shelter, food, jobs . . . but I can’t even write about that without seeing how totally inappropriate it is when I can’t provide any of those. It would be like driving past someone with a flat tire, stopping, getting out of my car, going to stand next to the person, and saying “Wow. You should change that tire.” And, then getting back into my car and driving away. The kind thing to do would be to help that person change the bleeping tire.

I do not have the personal resources to rescue or change those two men or the hundreds of thousands just like them. The best I can offer them is my kindness and prayers. I can support the shelters who support them . . . but then I think, are those shelters really kind to their situation or are the shelters simply an appeasement – a way for us to say “See? We ARE doing something about the homeless!” We are . . . but not really. I don’t know that we are being kind to the homeless in perpetuating a solution that simply makes life a little bit more endurable on the street.

I think true kindness requires strength — a strong sense of being one’s own person, a strong sense of boundaries, and a very strong sense of being One with the world. It is knowing when it is appropriate to be kind (i.e., is someone being harmed?) As children, we don’t always have this type of strength. We develop it through flexing those muscles in becoming our own person, recognizing boundaries, and knowing that the homeless person is a part of us. Kind acts are often invisible to others and not necessarily an outward display. Just taking good care of ourselves and accepting responsibility for our own well-being is an act of kindness. My real tests in the seeing world come with whether or not I can respond with kindness to someone who appears to be SO very undeserving of kindness. Kindness for me is a state of being and acting that respects all people, moves our relationship towards one of wholeness, and makes it easy for me to sleep at night. It is also a kindness to accept that people have the right to make decisions for themselves and it might not be the decision I would have chosen for them.

Kindness is not a solution to life’s troubles . . . it just makes the landing a little softer.

©2011 by Barbara L. Kass

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homeless presence

“Sha’up.”

She says this several times, to other children, to adults to might stop to talk with her.

“Sha’up.”

She is all of two years old. I know this because I have overheard the conversation her mother is having with one of the staff of the homeless shelter. I am at this homeless shelter as a part of my service learning commitment for my degree in pastoral counseling and spiritual care at Loyola University.

Service learning is not just volunteering to “do good” for others so that we feel good about ourselves. Service learning is just that: learning about service to others. These families who are homeless are going to teach me an awful lot over the next 10 to 12 weeks about my limits and boundaries, my capacities and abilities.

Meanwhile, I am listening to this child and realizing that she says “Sha’up” when anyone begins telling her something she does not want to hear or if she wants to be talking.

Shut up.

This is a homeless shelter for families. It is just a temporary place with a strictly ruled game-plan to get these people self-sufficient and into housing of their own. This two-year-old little darling of a girl who has learned to say “shut up” hasn’t a clue that there might be a different way to live. It is the hope of the staff who work at the shelter that she will learn.

It is not for me to question why any of these families became homeless, but I want to hear their stories. How I respond to this environment and the people who live here is going to introduce me to my prejudices, my projections, my illusions, and my realities . . . but only if I pay close attention and am willing to learn.

©2010 by Barbara L. Kass