A City View - The Invisible People

A City View - The Invisible People

“I DIDN’T THINK you saw me.”

I caught my breath, fighting for composure as my eyes welled with tears. “Yes, sir,” I answered the bearded homeless man sitting alone at the table. “I see you clearly. Are you ready for your lunch?” As I placed the tray before the crippled man, he looked up at me. His eyes twinkled with the same intensity as my Dallas downtown skyline view on a Saturday night. He knew he wasn’t invisible. And I knew for a moment—that moment—I wasn’t either.

During the next ninety minutes, my fellow volunteers and I served food and filled water glasses for over seven hundred men and women. My city view was eyeball to eyeball, our hands often touching as we passed the glasses back and forth. I could feel them, I could smell them, and most importantly I could see them—and I knew they could see me. Each person connected with me and I with him or her as we exchanged pleasantries in the crowded dining hall. When I spilled water on the floor, we locked eyes and laughed together about my poor waitressing skills. At the end of my shift, my heart raced, my spirit was buoyed, and my soul sang. I was connected to the human race.

I needed this.

God blesses those who are poor and realize their need for him, for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs. (Matthew 5:3)

I love community. I love neighbors. I love the energy that is created by lots of people in a given space. So needless to say, when we moved temporarily into an apartment building, I looked forward to connecting with a community—if only in the elevator. But I quickly found out that the city is not the place to make friends.