Day 10: Walking in the shoes of the homeless and unemployed

 

I have never known real hunger before now. After days of cutting back with no money and no options, the ache woke me up out of my sleep this morning. I waited until about 10 a.m.—so that I would be fuller longer—before I gathered up the microwaveable breakfast my caseworker gave me yesterday. I retrieved a bowl from the cupboard, washed, and dried it. With my items loaded into an eco-friendly recyclable grocery bag, I went downstairs to get a guard to let me into the kitchen to use the microwave as my caseworker instructed. The front desk staff lady emphatically spat, “Oh, no. That isn’t allowed. That’s a big no, no.” I explained what my caseworker told me, but it was of no use. I asked what time my worker was supposed to come in so that I could talk to her. “Ten thirty.”

It was 10:20 a.m. So I waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, at 11 a.m., she told me that she didn’t think my caseworker was coming in today. “But I have a six o’ clock appointment with her this evening.”

She just shrugged with the same nonchalant air exhibited by most of the staff and turned her head. The pain was kicking holes in my stomach. I had to go get something to eat.

This hunger is much different from the many voluntary fasts I’ve been on. It’s the reality of knowing that there are no options, that there is no freedom to just walk into a store and pick up something. I called Mom and had her check my bank account. $52 and some change. After my $40 bill is paid, I would have $12 left to my name. So, I went back upstairs, put everything away, and headed to Cold Stone for my $1.18 muffin.

I still had $2 in cash in my pocket after giving a guy on the street $1 yesterday. He wore a thin coat, looked ragged, and asked for some change. All I had was four one dollar bills to buy my breakfast/lunch muffin for the next three days. So, I gave him $1. Now, all I have is 85¢. What will I do tomorrow? Not sure. I’ll figure something out. For now, I am going to enjoy my pumpkin spice muffin.

Although I have been doing this since I left the hotel, I only just realized that I am eating every single crumb of my food. I mean, I am literally using my fingernails to scrape up the residual muffin left on the baking paper. God spoke to me and told me, “You don’t have to suffer. I appreciate you being so willing to go without today. But I promised you if you took the leap of faith and put your trust in me, I would take care of your needs in an extraordinary way. Haven’t I? Have you been subjected to the poorest conditions? Or course not. I want you to eat. I will provide for your safety and warmth. Stick with me. You are almost there. Write. Write. Write. Love you. God.”

Opportunity to Celebrate

Obviously, we should all celebrate the roof over our heads and the nourishment we receive no matter how it is viewed by economic or social standards. Yet, how can you "celebrate" blessings if you are homeless, hungry, unemployed, and cannot provide for your family? How, as a citizen or community leader, have you honored the value in all individuals regardless of their economic status or living situation? I celebrate by giving praise to God for providing for my needs and then share that praise with others as I do with this blog.

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