Poppy

I met him yesterday.

We were talking to guy who quickly became one of our friends, and while doing so I met Poppy.

Poppy came up asking for money.

We told him we didn't have any money, which was true if you don't count credit cards, but we said that we had some food.

He was so excited... "Oh food, food, yea that works too, I'll take some food!"

So we begin pulling out all sorts of snacks that we prepare to bring down to the city every weekend for moments such as this.




It's a group of us... we go downtown Chicago every Sunday and look for new friends to spend time with... friends without homes, without money, without anywhere warm to go, and we just spend time with them... love on them, if you will (or won't, I don't really care).

We look them in the eye, we call them by name, and we just sit and listen to them talk.

It's a pretty transforming experience when the "homeless" no longer become the "homeless," but instead become actual people with real names, and family stories.

Kim has 5 children... and she is beautiful! Maybe a little rough on the outside to the human eye, but sit and talk with her for a while and you will begin to realize just how beautiful she is. When I first met her she cried. She cried because we looked her in the eye. She cried because we sat and talked to her. She cried because she couldn't believe that someone would actually take the time to sit next to her and listen to her talk instead of just throw a dime in her cup and walk away.

I have numerous stories I would like to tell about so many of the people I have met downtown... but I want to find the boundary between sharing my experiences and exploiting my new friends. I have many stories, some of which I am glad to tell, but maybe much like my new friends, only on a more personal level instead of with those who just pass by.

Kim is my friend. And I love her.

That's all that matters.



So yesterday a group of us found ourselves back downtown, this time approaching the experience a little differently. We split up in twos, each with a bag of food, and we set out looking for old friends, in hopes to find new ones.

To be honest, I was hoping to find Kim.

But I never did. It was the first weekend I hadn't seen her, and I was slightly bothered as I was so looking forward to seeing her. I had to leave to come back to Naperville early, but when the rest of the group got back, they said she showed up about an hour after I left. My emotions were mixed... I was so bummed I didn't see her, but I was so glad she was seen.

While looking for Kim, my partner and I, and two others, ran into a 21 year old guy named David. You could tell he was freezing as he kept blowing on his glove-less hands. My roommate handed him some gloves and some hand warmers to put in them. We gave him some food and just stood there and talked to him... in the freezing cold. We told him we were going over to the train station and he was more than welcome to come hang out with us... "you probably won't make a buck," my roommate said, "but at least you'll be warm, and among friends."

He didn't even hesitate to say he wanted to come with us.

Sometimes people want more than just your money. Sometimes they just want your fellowship. They just want community.

While we are standing there a little round African American man, probably in his late 40s, early 50s, walks up and asks if we can spare any change for a homeless man. We ask his name, and tell him ours. He smiles and you can tell he is wondering why we care...

thus begins our conversation about not having any money, but having some food.

"Oh food, food, yea that works too, I'll take some food!"

He tells us we have good hearts and proceeds to hug each one of us. We invite him to come hang out with us at the train station, but he said he needed to earn some money. He then told us to listen closely and his voice got real intense, but sincere...

"I know I may be out here on the streets right now," he put his hand to his mouth and started to tear up, "but I know God has a plan for me! I know this isn't it!" He paused and put his hand back up to his mouth and whispered "excuse me." He was full on crying at this point, but firmly pronounced "I know, that I know, that I know, that God has a plan for me, and this isn't it!"

I put my hand on his arm, and stood in silence. What do you say to someone whose shoes you don't understand what it's like to walk in?

So I say the first thing that pops into my head, regardless of whether I understand his situation or not...

"Absolutely, He does... and don't let anyone take that from you! Don't let anyone take your joy!"

He begins to cry harder and excuses himself... "I got to go," he says, "I can't handle this."

We all stand there silently as he walks off and I can hear him crying as he walks down the street.

That can't be it, I think to myself, but I don't know what else to do.

I yell to him that we love him and he turns around to say he loves us too, but I want him to know that we really do, I really do love him, I don't even know why, other than I just do.

I just want to hug him...

And with that thought in mind, I drop my bags and everything I have in my hands...



he made it to the end of the block before I yelled out...

"POPPY! WAIT!"

At this point he was almost bent over crying, but he just kept walking. So I yelled again, "POPPY!" He finally stopped, and I ran up from behind him, swung my arms around him, and just hugged him... tight.

I held him in my arms and he just balled. The more he cried the tighter I held him. I kept whispering in his ear that he was beautiful.

This grown man has his head buried in my shoulder, balling, and I just remind him again and again that he is loved.

His crying started to slow down, and I heard him whisper "thank you! I needed this! Boy I really needed this. Thank you!"

I drew back, while still holding him, looked him in his teary eyes, and said "I really hope I see you again."

"absolutely you will," he said, "absolutely you will!"

"Good!"

And with that, I gave him one last hug, he took a deep breath, wiped his tears, and we went our separate directions.

Looking back, writing about this, that wasn't me.

It was my body, but it wasn't me.

I absolutely was filled with love for that man in that moment, but it wasn't an earthly love. It wasn't even a love that I think I can understand. I know, that I know, that I know, that it was God's love.

A love so powerful it makes a grown man cry. A love so powerful that God can take a little white girl out of south to the suburbs, and out of the suburbs to the city, to hold a grown man living on the streets of Chicago.

Do you get this?

I am from South Carolina... born and raised for 23 years.

What the hell am I doing in the city of Chicago holding a black homeless man?

Excuse my political incorrectness, but I think it needs to be said in order to be understood.

That is the power of God.

Only God is capable of making such a transformation.

There's that one popular song out on Christian radio that, to be honest, I don't like, but the words are so true...

"I'm not who I was!"

I'm not! And it's not because of me!

You can praise me for going down to the city and hanging out with the "homeless," Poppy can thank me for hugging him and telling him he is loved, I can even think I am great for doing so, but one thing, you, he, and I need to know...

it's not me!

Don't thank me...

Praise God... that I'm not who I was!

Praise God!





And with that, I thank Poppy, because he is the one who showed me what love is, and who reminded me to thank my Father above for not allowing me to remain within the mess that I once lived in... just as I know,

that I know,

that I know,

that God will do the same for my Poppy.