By 11am the hospitality room is full, ninety three degrees, stifling humidity, three ceiling fans, two large standing fans, and two exhaust fans do nothing to relieve the men and women who wait in oblivion for the afternoon lunch. The tv mounted on the eastern wall blasts Ted Danson and Jeff Goldbloom solving crimes and no one listens. I look at each of the faces and cannot discern any kind of hope beyond that meal. In one year, five years, ten years nothing for the whole lot of them is going to improve. Resigned to a cruel and unjust fate how in God's merciful name can I help them. 'You got any soap, shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste, razors, body lotion, hair lotion, laundry soap, you got any bus passes, you got a towel, socks, any sugar, you got a buck, I need a buck?' I give them what they ask if it's available, a momentary act of mercy albeit it is so small. What more do you need when you know today and next and the day after that will not change? Food, clothing, a game of dominos.
The physiological effects of addiction, the psychological effects of poverty, the clashing and bashing of both and the endless waiting game left me depressed, no amount of empathy can give the man any hope for breaking out of a cycle that seems so endlessly unfair and is so common.
On Tuesday evenings a minister of some kind leads a service in the dining room. This week five people and myself listened to a woman with tattoos on the inside of her forearms talk about blessed are peacemakers. "Who is a peacemaker, one who accepts that all opinions should be respected, regardless of their religious and political presuppositions." A middle aged black man with thick glasses and oil stained khaki trousers asks the woman if she thinks Jesus is ever going to return because life really stinks and he is having his doubts. "Heaven is right here (she taps her heart) and we needn't worry of the day or time because only God knows, meanwhile we must love God and our neighbors and not find fault with the mysterious plan God has for you and for all of us here."
If I didn't have an overheated headache and had more than a few hours sleep the night before I would have answered the man who's only hope is the hope that is disappearing that you need to be getting a little ticked off with 2000 years of promises and no return on a lifetime of belief. Where is God right now? There is no heaven for the poor and the mentally ill who have no hope and even if they did have hope in a promise they'll never see in this lifetime, well is this hell? Do the souls who knock back black coffee and who shake and stammer and can't connect logical points and fight to survive another day for what, for what? OH! who are you to question God's transient plan for the disenfranchised and downtrodden?
Where is heaven in this man's heart, sister? GIve him a job, retrain him, hold his hand and tell him he'll be with Jesus when his body dies. Give him hope even though he'll return to the bridge and sleep in the weeds. Tell him Jesus is going to come, it is our blessed hope but it probably won't happen while you're on this earth so suck it up until then. A great and glorious life awaits you, but just not now. Here, take a loaf a bread, you need some boxers? Someone donated some ice skates, what size are you? God bless you, see you tomorrow, inshal'allah.
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