Life goes on

Living in New York I have seen my share of homeless people. Everywhere you look, there is a swarm of homeless men and women dragging their heels along with their carts (stored in which are all of their possessions), a rather sad sight, exacerbated by the recession. I pass an old man every evening at Port Authority and he rouses in me fleeting guilt about my inability to help him.

Perched up on the side walk, early this morning, I saw an old homeless black man kneeling on a piece of cardboard against a wooden table hanging with one leg and partly supported by a shopping cart which no doubt held his possessions. On this table, were a crystal cross and the Holy Bible. The man kneeling with his hands in prayer position took me by surprise. Not because the homeless don’t pray but because I’ve never seen one and had never thought of the homeless as the praying kind. Am I daft? I don’t think so.

I continued walking towards work and passed a pizza shop. By the window were cooks, hand rolling the fresh dough, preparing toppings and getting ready to put the pizza in the brick oven with the fresh smell of bread wafting out on the street. A perfectly gorgeous fall morning!

Somehow that homeless man with the crystal cross stayed with me. I don’t yet know why or what about him struck me so much. Knowing how we all go to God when things turn sour for us, the homeless man had the most to pray for. But as I walked away from him, I took a piece of him with me. Something is tugging away at my heart from the sight I saw.  I don’t know what he was asking for (maybe the most obvious) or if he was even asking for anything but I wish he receives it. As for me, not knowing his eventual fate, some peace of mind will suffice.