On Behalf of Delron

Sitting on a bed watching tv.
Changing my shirt.
Wearing cologne.
Buying shoes.
Taking a shower.
Changing the tv channel.
Having clean clothes.

Being looked at and treated like a person.

He listed all these things to me as we sat on the curb outside 7-Eleven on Colonial Drive that Monday night.  I asked him how long he's been homeless - he said, "it's been a minute."  His shoes were cheap flip flops worn nearly through.  He spoke of his family and how his ex-wife sold the house when he was in jail and now he has nowhere to go.  His voice broke when he mentioned his children and I could see him deflating.  A father with a son in need and no means to help him.

He said, "I don't talk about how hard being homeless is because it hurts so much.  And sometimes I think about suicide but I tell myself I gotta keep putting one foot in front of the other.  I can't give up."  I agreed.

Between escaping tears he told me he couldn't remember the last time anyone sat and talked to him like an everyday person. He spoke of the judgemental looks he gets regularly and how he doesn't want to beg but he has no other option.  He told me about the church folk that are quick to throw out an "I'll pray for you" but slow to even give food. 

I don't know how long we sat... how long he talked... how long I listened, but it was needed.  Since then, I've passed that 7-Eleven numerous times and looked for him each time but haven't seen him again.  I hope he's still putting one foot in front of the other.  I hope he is still talking to God and knowing that no matter how small we feel, He is the God Who Sees Us.  I hope he finds a way out of his current situation.  I hope he holds on to hope.