On December 31, take 31 dollar bills and give them to 31 individuals less fortunate than you - Jan Hillman, Sacramento CA
I quietly stamped my feet to keep warm. The air was thick and frosty, and as I peeked out from under my hat, I could see the tops of the buildings dissolving into the soupy sky. The light turned green. With a grumpy shiver, I buried my chin deeper in my scarf and crossed the street, 11 one dollar bills clenched tight in my wool-covered hand. Eleven dollars isn't much, still it could pay for my portion of the electric bill or even tomorrow's lunch. However this New Year's Eve I was planning on giving it all away--to complete strangers.
Earlier that day, I had tweaked the rules a bit and donated $20 to Interfaith House Chicago, an organization that helps ill or injured homeless adults get back on their feet. Not that I didn't appreciate the cleverness of the idea, and not that it would be very difficult to find 31 people in need, especially in downtown Chicago, but I wasn't positive that giving out dollar bills was the best way to help. So I had silently made a deal that I would give out whatever I had in my wallet, and donate the rest to a charity. I chose Interfaith because earlier this year I suffered a kidney stone and though I had medical attention and friends to ease the burden, I felt more helpless than I ever had in my life. It gave me comfort to know that there was a place in Chicago that cared for and inspired those truly without help.
So there I was, armed with $11, searching, in bone-chilling weather, for someone in need. As my eyes darted from face to face, I reflected on my first year in Chicago, and the pity I used to feel at the sight of an outstretched palm. Six years and hundreds of palms later, that pity can turn to indifference, even resentment. Just as you layer on the clothes to shut out the cold, eventually you layer on the cold to shut out the people.
I had to be to my friend's house at 6:30, meaning that I had to find eleven people, run an errand, and be on the train in an hour. I found it ironic that when I was actually willing to give, I couldn't find a soul.
As I neared State street all of that changed.
There was a man standing on the corner, sucking what he could out of a tiny cigarette butt. It was actually a relief to hear him asking for change. I don't remember much about him, but I do remember that his shoes were held together with duck tape and that he didn't have any gloves. The gloves, I remember, because for a brief moment, while transferring the dollar from my hand to his, our exposed fingers made contact. I almost recoiled, and instantly felt ashamed. A simple touch, an action that happens all the time, suddenly felt too personal. I realized in that moment that I had already judged this man that I knew nothing about.
As I walked on, I made a promise that at least for the next brief ten dollars, I would try to truly remove all judgement from my heart.
Just then I passed a McDonald"s. Through the window, I could see a man haggard and heaped in one of the stalls. Quickly I slipped inside, grateful to be out of the cold for a moment. As I approached his table I could see the limited remains of a coffee and burger. With a bit of nervousness, I slid a single Washington next to his untamed fingernails. He looked up surprised and questioning, then nodded an appreciative "Thank you." Shyly, I nodded back and made my way back into the cold.
Soon I was at the corner of Randolph and State: the Shopping District. The streets were cheerfully alive with people shopping the post Christmas sales and getting ready for their New Year's Eve activities. A young man, who hardly looked needy, asked if I had a dollar. Normally this would annoy me, but without hesitation, I flashed him a bill, and he flashed me a surprised smile. I found myself smiling as well. It was a nice feeling, this willingness to give so freely.
As I crossed the other side of State Street I heard a familiar, pleading voice. I cringed. It was That Guy. He'd worked this corner for over a year, and I'm ashamed to say that I probably judged him most of all. Maybe it was because he was my age, and I was skeptical that he couldn't find some other way of earning money. The particular way that he whined, didn't help much. Begrudgingly, I reached into my pocket and forced my heart to soften. What did I truly know about this person? He could need that dollar more than anyone. I'd always had parents to bail me out of my unwise decisions. Maybe he didn't have that option. Humbled, I handed him the dollar. He paused to thank me, and then continued his standard howl. I hurried away before my heart hardened again.
Barely 10 paces away, I came upon a woman sifting through the garbage can for food. As I approached she looked up, her hands still buried deep in the trash. Her face was hollowed and her hair was gray, but I doubt that she was much older than forty. As I handed her the dollar, I couldn't help but ask myself,
"How did she get here? Was anybody looking for her? Did she have any children?"
Speaking of children; a few steps away the Bucket Boys were drumming away on their white pails. I had a fondness for these boys. Their intricate rhythms were as familiar to downtown, as the Chicago Theatre sign. For all I knew, they were more fortunate than me, still I placed four dollars, one for each of them, in their collection. As I walked away, infused by the beat, I breathed a quick prayer that the money would be used for good.
2 more dollars and 2 more people to go. I continued south on State Street. The lights and Christmas cheer seemed such a contrast to this world that I was experiencing. Days earlier, I had spent Christmas with my family. Those days were filled with gifts, an obscene amount of food and people I care about, who care about me. Life is sometimes hard for me despite the love of my friends and family. I can't imagine what happens to you when you believe that nobody cares about you.
If anyone had been following me, I'm sure they'd be mystified by the odd girl playing Robin Hood on New Year's Eve. I was starting to feel really good about myself, being so charitable and all. Maybe that's why, though I try my hardest, I can't seem to remember the last two people I gave to. I was so caught up in applauding myself, that I can't even be sure what gender each of them was. One thing I do remember is that one of them, I believe a man, said "God bless you." This blessing humbled me a bit, and as I wished him the same, I realized that I truly meant it.
And that was it. My pocket was empty. I had completed my mission, and all within 2 blocks.
Briskly, I crossed the street to the warm promise of H&M. I was returning a sweater that I didn't care for. Nobody questioned me as I walked into the store. I had a right to be there, however I'm sure most of the people I just gave money to, would not be allowed inside. The line at the register was overflowing with people buying outfits for their New Year's party. I couldn't help but recognize that this sweater would be considered a luxury to some of the people I'd approached tonight.
I could afford this luxury because my belly was full.
As I walked to the train, I silently hoped that no one would approach me. The bills I had designated were gone; I had done my part! I was slipping back into that indifferent state, already forgetting that while I was at this party, there were people out there who still needed to find a meal, or a place to sleep.
Now as I sit in my drafty, but warm apartment, I realize just how good I am at forgetting unpleasant things. All of the people downtown, me included, were partaking in the glow of Christmas, while people suffered right under our noses. Christmas is more than turkey and presents. It's a celebration of the birth of One who cared for the sick and gave shelter to the weary. If we believe in Christmas, doesn't that mean that we believe in taking care of each other? I know that it's a lot more complicated than handing out dollars on the street, but maybe we all could strip off a layer of judgement and be more of a shepherd to those in need.
*This blog entry, I'm grateful for the homeless man who asked God to bless me. He still believes in God, though he probably has every reason not to. I hope that those going through hard times can have faith that even though at times it may seem that the entire world has forgotten them, God has not, and never will.
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