She sat alone, with her overstuffed knapsack tucked close, quietly eating a plate of warm spaghetti. Her head was down and partly concealed inside the hood of her jacket. She braced for the change in weather under layers of clothes. She seemed a bit out of place, being older than most women under the bridge. Not wanting to interrupt her meal, I waited and wondering about her story. Was she someone’s mother or grandmother? Did they know she was living on the streets?
E. told me I needed to meet S. She felt like she was someone that could make some progress with getting off the streets with a little help.
One of the things I have been wrestling with when I am under the bridge is what to say. For the first five years I didn’t worry too much about what to say. I was practicing doing; you know, the St. Francis “…preach the gospel, use words if necessary” thing. After years of practicing doing, I began to consider how to use words that could add life and light, ones that would transcend platitudes. How does one do that? As I watched S., I wondered what words could be said that would be good news to her.
After S. finished eating, I introduced myself.
“Do you need help? Are you ready to get off the streets? I ask because some down here are not ready.”
“I was ready the first night I spent out here.”
After visiting for a time, S. agreed to let us come along side of her to see if we could help her address some of the obstacles that are keeping her on the streets. Then I heard the words that would be good news to S. As we were preparing to leave, D. approached S.
“Are you staying outside tonight?”
“Yes.”
“It is going to be cold tonight. We have room on our couch. Why don’t you come stay with us tonight?”
S. paused for a second. “I think I will.”
Words are said and understood in a context. That night, I heard the words that would transcend platitudes.
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