One cold November evening, my husband, Niko, our 5 year old son, Sam and I went to a birthday party in the old school building next to our church. As the evening wound down, Niko started to help with clean up and I decided to take Sam home to bed. Sam and I left out the side door and got into our car.
As we backed out of our parking space and started to move forward, I noticed to our left, up against the Church building, a man sleeping on the sidewalk.
As we turned the corner, I asked, “Did you see that, Sam?”
“What?” He asked.
Did you see that homeless man sleeping on the ground next to the church?”
“Go back, Mom. Go Back! I have got to see that!”
I stopped the car and slowly backed up just to the point where Sam could see around the corner, but not so far that our car lights would disturb the sleeping man. I paused for a moment and then proceeded forward.
“Did you see him, Sam?” I inquired.
“Yep.” He responded. Sam was silent for a long moment and then blurted out, “Finally! Finally, I got to see someone sleeping on the streets. I’ve always wanted to see someone sleeping on the streets.”
I was speechless. I had hoped that seeing this person would illicit a compassionate response from Sam. I was hoping it would instill in him a sense of gratitude for all we have. I was appalled that his response seemed so voyeuristic. Before I could challenge him, however, grace came over me.
Of course this would be his reaction. His whole life he had heard his parents talk about the homeless. He had watched us collect blankets for those who were sleeping on the streets. He had brought canned goods to Church each Sunday for those who were poor and many, many times he had heard the story of how my dad had lived on the streets for 3 years when I was just about his age. How could his 5 year old brain even begin to conceive of what it meant to sleep on the streets? All he had ever known of bedtime was snuggling with mom, being tucked in by dad and falling to sleep to the sound of their voices singing or reading to him.
As we continued to drive, I suddenly remembered that I had a wool blanket in my yoga pack in the back of the car. We did a u-turn and headed back to the old school. In protective momma mode, I decided it was better to ask Niko to help us, then to approach this stranger with our little boy at my side. We found Niko inside, mopping the floor. Together we told him about the man sleeping next to the church and asked if he would please bring the man our blanket. Niko looked at both of us deeply and said, “I’d love to.”
He took the blanket from my arms and headed towards the door. Sam followed close behind him until I stopped him at the exit and said we would wait inside for daddy to return. He looked at me with such disappointment and confusion.
“Please, Mom, please let me watch,” he cried.
“No, Sam. We are staying in here. This man deserves to be treated with dignity and respect. He is sleeping. He deserves privacy.”
“Please, Mom. I promise to be quiet. Please can I watch Dad?
I hesitated feeling very conflicted inside. Finally, I said, “OK, Sam we will go outside and watch Daddy, but we will stay far away and we will be very, very quiet. If you make any sound or do anything to disturb this man, we will come right back in.” He agreed and we quietly walked outside and stood about 20 feet away as Niko approached the stranger.
What we witnessed was a moment of pure grace. The man was lying on his right side facing the church building. Niko walked up to him. He knelt down on one knee, gently put his hand on the man’s left shoulder and asked. “Would you like a blanket?” We heard only murmurings in response. Then we watched as Niko slowly, tenderly wrapped this man in the heavy wool blanket. He started at his shoulders tucking the blanket in under his chin and moving downward towards his feet. When he got to his feet, he wrapped the excess material around and under them creating a cushion between his feet and the cold concrete underneath. Then he put one hand on the man’s hip, and another on his shoulder and tenderly wished him a good night.
I watched in wonder. It was as if it were his beloved son, my husband was tucking in and not some stranger he had never seen before. Tears streamed down my face and a prayer whispered in my heart that this moment would forever be imprinted on Sam’s soul. I prayed that he would know that this, this is what it means to be a man in our world: To go out in to the darkness and to face the unknown bearing the gifts of light, compassion, warmth and protection. In his tenderness his daddy had never been so strong.
