In the grittier part of the very gritty downtown Tulsa, the cold seems to be angered as it weaves its way through the towers of industry that house the business elite. But, not today. The titans of these office buildings are nestled into the warm suburbs, leaving the streets to a different breed. No suits. No briefcases No important meetings.
It’s uncomfortably early on Saturday, and all the places that house the un-homed have gently pushed them onto the same pavement that they welcomed them from the night before. So, they pour onto the streets like ants from the ground. The winds are bitter and there is no place of respite. Even the shiny neighborhood store has an armed guard to keep them moving along. The swirling blasts seem to have blown away all kindness along with the fall leaves. So, a vast majority come to see me.
It’s a few years back and I am volunteering on weekends at a day center for the homeless. My job is critical, especially when it is this frigid. Some women and children were allowed to stay inside the facilities last night with a roll out mat for a bed. They have no privacy, but it’s warm and safe and clean. For rather obvious reasons, the men are sent away for the night to find a place to stay. Most are just down the street at the mission. But check out is early, and now they are lined up along with others to enter.
That’s where I come in. Neither a noble nor glamorous role, I am literally the gate keeper. Just inside the door of the day center is a high and well used counter where yours truly asks for ID and a TB card. I log each newcomer in after validating their credentials and checking the naughty list to make sure they haven’t been banned for previous bad behavior. I move as efficiently as I can. Many are standing outside in the weather.
They don’t all look like you might think. Certainly, plenty fit the homeless stereotype with bedraggled clothes and bathing long in the past. But there are families, neat and clean, waiting out the unfortunate events that left them with no permanent address. I check in a baby that is only weeks old, dads who leave their families while they work, and elderly who seem to have been discarded by society. From time to time my allergies act up as I look into eyes that are scanning for hope.
After they satisfy my rather official logbook, they move to the security checkpoint. It’s much like an airport, as long as the airport you imagine has ancient equipment and the customers are half frozen. Some are meek, but many are loud and belligerent as mental illness and altered states of mind take control. But all have substandard luggage. The luggage is what I would like you to focus on. Each bag is hoisted to the conveyor and rides through the scanner while pockets are emptied. The owner scurries through the archway to rejoin their possessions.
A few duffle bags accompany our guests along with an occasional suitcase often in disarray. But the limit for admittance is two bags and almost all the luggage is two trash bags. Two large black waste bags identified with a piece of tape that humble states a name. Two bags in. Two bags out. Every day. Every time you want to walk to that shiny store for a purchase. Two bags that must be guarded on the street and even inside. Two bags sum up the entire estate of the owner whose name is written in marker.
As the Christmas season pulls us towards the end of the year, think about someone with two black bags. While we hustle about, frantically piling up our possessions and adding gaudy trinkets for those we love, someone will be dragging their bags down an uncaring sidewalk. It’s a sobering thought.
I even considered grabbing a couple of bags, labeling my name and filling them with what matters, but it’s a silly thought. I know they won’t start to hold what I have been given. I have too many blessings for two bags.
Possessions are not the only limited resource. Some of our neighbors are short of friends, family, direction, love or hope. Some of the most successful people you know, may be hiding half empty bags and gaping holes in their hearts.
If you are in my situation with blessings overflowing, I challenge you to gift someone who lives from two bags. Make a difference for someone else if you can. If not, stop by and I’ll reach into my bag and see if I can help.
