It was
a January morning in the winter of 2001. On the 6 o’ clock news, over one of
the local channels, the weather person announced the wind chill was in the
negative twenties, then warned and advised to “stay indoors, or bundle up if
you have to go out”. I had to. So I
bundled up. In doing so, it quickly came to my mind: I just got out of a warm
bed in a warm house, and now pilling up these layers to stay warm, how about
the homeless who have been out there all night with not as much clothing on? My
reflection on the question did not last long. I rushed out. In a few minutes I
stepped into the train and headed downtown Chicago to work.
As I
emerged out of the subway to cross into the office, there was a man, probably
in his fifties, with uncombed hair and valleys of dried or frozen tears down
his chicks from the biting wind. He had a pair of jeans, an open neck sweeter
over a shirt. His jacket was nothing better than a spring wind breaker. He
approached me and requested if I could offer him “a quarter to get a cup of
coffee”. I asked if he would rather come
in and share a cup of coffee with me in place of the quarter. He accepted and
followed. We entered the building through the lobby and approached the elevator.
As soon as I pressed the elevator button, he said: “If I have to get into an
elevator in order to get the coffee, forget it.” After much persuasion, he entered
the elevator. To my surprise, very few of the many people waiting to enter the
elevator, joined us.
Off the
elevator I swiped through the security pad, opened the door and asked him to
get in. He quickly turned around and asked. “What did I do wrong?” I told him. “Nothing.” Without hesitation he added, “I
just asked you for coffee, so what is the big deal?”
“No big deal. We are going to get the coffee.”
“They’n sell no coffee in there.”
“No big deal. We are going to get the coffee.”
“They’n sell no coffee in there.”
“True,
but I have coffee in my office. I want you to be warm while you drink the cup
of coffee. I told you we could share a cup of coffee.” He walked through the doors. I followed then
took the lead as the door slammed behind us and walked him into our staff
lounge.
Someone
had brewed coffee. I brought two mucks from my office and offered him one. “Wow,
you really want me to drink from this cup?” I poured the coffee into the two
cups. We sat down and conversed. Meanwhile, staff members from our floor kept
on coming in and out. Like wild fire on a dry savanna, news went round that
there was a stranger in the staff lounge and people in a polite way came in see
who this stranger was under various facades: wash their hands, take coffee
(even those I have never seen drink coffee). My friend got a second cup of
coffee. I got to know him better and how he became homeless. “Thank you for the
coffee, I better let you go back to work.” I escorted him out. We promised to
pray for each other and parted.
Shortly
after his departure some colleagues came in, and were very bitter. A senior
manager sternly, furiously and angrily demanded to know, why I had brought in a
homeless person to have coffee. It was unacceptable. The other staff members
were in total disbelief of what I had done.
“Show
me the office where people apply to become homeless. Now I understand”, I told
them, “when you walk by tomorrow and see me standing in the same position where
that man was in the cold, begging for coffee, you will refuse to let me in for a
cup of coffee in this warm room because I am homeless.” Speechless, like the
crowd that could not cast the first stone on the woman caught in adultery, they
walked out of the office and left me alone.
Who
is on the list of those you will invite in your upcoming party?
