For some unfortunate reason, many libraries are becoming increasingly noisier
places, not at all the old βshhhβ environments that existed years ago where
wrinkled librarians waggled their fingers back and forth at you for even
thinking too loud. Despite this change, thereβs something about libraries that
puts me in the mood to write, not to mention the mountains of traditional
research that can be scoured up. This morning I was doing some work at a library
in a relatively large city. I have generally found that periodicals rooms are
the best places to get things done as the number of people that read physical
newspapers continues to decline, leaving these areas the quietest.
I normally try to write 1500-2000 words per day. Sometimes, hitting my goal
takes as little as two hours and as many as ten to twelve. This morning I was
off to a pretty good start, knocking down my first 1,000 in a little over an
hour. Thatβs when I heard these two women talking to my left. We were separated
by a book shelf, so I couldnβt see them. I try not to listen to other peopleβs
conversations, but sometimes itβs hard not to, particularly in a library. I
appreciated the fact that at least one of them was trying to whisper, but the
other one was significantly louder, dominating the conversation and following
the bulk of her statements up with a stuttering laugh that has an above-average
ability to get on someoneβs nerves. Had the topic of their conversation not left
the fate of mankind hanging in the balance, I probably would have left earlier.
They were arguing over the color of a crayon.
The quiet one claimed the crayon was red and the louder one insisted it was
blue, building her case by insisting that βAunt Breeβ agreed with her. This went
on for close to fifteen minutes which, in a library, seems like a month. I
finally waved the white flag of surrender and packed up my laptop and decided to
head off to another part of the library. When I went around the book shelf on my
way out, the two of them were continuing their debate.
Make that the one of them. A homeless woman.
In many big cities, libraries and free city buses are huge places of refuge for
the homeless and though they are not always easy to spot, this one was. Her
short, salt and pepper hair was greasy and unkempt, her hands were dirty, and
she was wearing a tattered winter coat despite it being seventy-six degrees at
ten in the morning. She was sitting alone at the table with a newspaper and what
looked like a plastic bag of personal belongings in front of her. When she saw
me, she froze and βthe conversationβ immediately ended. She just stared at me
with blank eyes that made me feel like it was my first day on the planet. For
those that know me, they will agree that I am rarely at a loss for words, but I
didnβt have the faintest idea what to say to this woman, so I simply nodded at
her and then slid between a pair of bookshelves, knowing I was without any
ability whatsoever to mind my own business. When I was out of her sight, the
conversation immediately resumed, so I found a place to watch and listen.
Every time the quiet one talked, she lowered her head and spoke softly. Then her
head would kick back up, she would lift the newspaper, pat on it with her other
hand as if she were a lawyer in court providing evidence, and then fire back
loudly that βthe crayon is blue.β
I wanted to know who she was talking to.
I wanted to know where her family was.
I was thankful I had my family.
Then I realized I used to be one of those people that thought most homeless
people were either lazy, crazy, on drugs, or just simply indifferent to changing
how they live. Whenever I saw a homeless person on the street and was asked for
a dollar, Iβd usually give them one and then wonder if I was really helping them
at all. Did that money go for food, booze β¦ drugs? And was giving them money
encouraging them to continue to beg? Maybe yes. Maybe no. Probably both
depending on the person.
The truth of the matter is the answers to those questions arenβt important. What
is important is figuring out how homelessness happens and what we can do to help.
We all have our stories. People lose their jobs, they lose their relationships
with their families, and they lose sobriety by getting hooked on drugs to manage
a seemingly unbearable life. But what the majority of homeless people lose is
something that is much more important and impossible to live without for too long.
They lose hope.
Relationships, sobriety, and mental health can be restored. Reconnecting most
homeless people with society is something that can happen, but it wonβt happen
unless they believe it can happen.
From now on, whenever I see a homeless person, Iβm going to try to give them
something much more valuable than a dollar. Iβm going to try to give them hope.
Iβd love to get your help here and hear your ideas. What would you do to give
hope to a homeless person?
Giveaway
Please tell us below what you'd do to give hope and you'll be entered to win
a copy of THE REASON
Over the course of his life, William Sirls has experienced both great highs
and lows-some born of chance, some born of choice. Once a senior vice president
at a major investment firm, he was incarcerated in 2007 for wire fraud and money
laundering, where he learned a great deal more than he bargained for. Life
lessons involving faith, grace, patience, and forgiveness are evident in his
writing. He is the father of two and makes his home in southern California.
WHAT DOES GOD LOOK LIKE?
Welcome to southeast Michigan and the small town of Carlson where faith,
hope, and struggle are defined by the different faces of those who live there.
An addict that sits at a bar to forget.
A mother whose five-year-old boy has leukemia. Two doctors. An atheist
haunted by his past and a brilliant young oncologist that places all her hope in
the power of modern medicine. A blind pastor whose son hasnβt spoken a single
word in thirty-eight years.
But the minister sees by faith. He knows there are answers and believes that
someone who cares is watchingβsomeone with a greater purpose. Yet there is
something he doesnβt know... that none of them know. In the midst of the
ordinary and the devastat- ing, there is a reason these lives will be changed
forever. Lightning is about to strike.
The Reason opens with a thunderbolt and never lets up as it introduces us to
everyday characters who are wrestling with questions: Where is God when bad
things happen? Does God ignore the prayers of the faithful? The answer each
character receives will astound readers while offering an unforgettable call to
hope, to change, and to believe.
Inspirational
[BroadStreet, On Sale: April 1, 2016, Paperback / e-Book,
ISBN: 9781424551361 / eISBN: 9781424551378]
Start talking to them and listen to their story then go from there ,maybe take them to get something to eat , help them any way that I could if they want my help .
(Joan Thrasher 10:32am July 19, 2016)
It's all about listening and encouragement. Honest compliments are helpful too.
(Meghan Stith 2:10am July 20, 2016)
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