Today was my first trip to the Austin location of Church Under the Bridge. The second I set foot under the bridge, I felt a surge of unexplainable joy. I could hardly contain myself, saying hello to and attempting to make conversation with everyone possible. Having much past experience of conversing with individuals experiencing homelessness, I have become accustomed to the variance of stories and personalities. Some love to tell their life stories and others do not. That is simply how it is. However, I have found it is common for me to be the talker, leading the conversation. Little did I know, today I would meet someone whose story would not only silence my constant jabber, but also bring me to tears.
Having attempted to have conversations with several other non-talkative individuals, I searched for someone who would be vulnerable enough to indulge in a deep conversation. This was when Joe, an aged African American male, sitting in a wheelchair, caught my eye. He was eager to tell me about his life experiences, faith, and family. After asking a few questions, I realized that it would be better for Joe to guide the conversation on his own. I am so thankful he did because had I led the conversation I do not believe I would have learned as much as I did. By allowing Joe to process through his circumstances on his own he was able to guide me through his tragic, but hopeful, life story.
In the natural flow of the conversation, Joe brought up his twin sons who are living back in Mississippi. As he reached into the pocket of his dirty khaki pants, he pulled out his wallet, slowly unfolding the worn leather pouch. I was surprised by the contents of his wallet. I did not see a pocket full of money and gift cards. I simply saw a leather pouch with letters and pictures. As he handed me the pictures of his twin boys and their mother, he began to glow with pride. “They are beautiful,” I uttered, as tears began to roll down my cheeks. “This is beautiful.”
This is a perfect depiction just one of the beautiful aspects of many homeless people. Joe’s wallet held something far more precious than what the average affluent American fills their wallets with. Those letters and pictures of his sons brought him pride and joy. They were his most prized possessions. The beauty that brought me to tears is that his joy was not materialistic, but it was derived from his pure love, adoration, and appreciation for his family. That being, said I implore you to ponder these things: How often do you stop and actually listen to others? What have you learned from your recent conversations with others? What do you value most in life? If you were left without material possessions, what would you find pride in?
May God bless you and give you peace.
–Sidney Kaliher, 10/2/17
← Read Joe’s Updated Story