John in Detroit
A revisited journal entry from Thursday, December 3, 2020...
Yesterday afternoon, as I was driving north on Woodward Ave, I saw John walking south on the west side of the street... just south of the Highland Park area. This seemed like an out of the ordinary place in which to see him.
When we lived at the condo, down in the Midtown area of Detroit, I would often see John walking, preparing to catch a bus, or appearing a little aimless. Perhaps I first saw him simply as a beggar, as homeless with his tattered clothes, unshaved, unkempt appearance. One day, however, I began seeing him as a man when he and I were both shopping for bread in the Whole Foods bread aisle... I with my shopping cart full and he with a bottle of white wine tucked under his arm. That's the day we shared a moment, a few words, and I learned his name.
His straight white hair, his careful yet shuffled gait, his ending to every greeting no matter with whom he speaks... "God Bless you" causes me to wonder if he is "Christ" among us ...reminds me to really see his humanity and the ever-present humanity of everyone... reminds me to see and look for the child in each of us who has hopes, needs, longings, ideas, fears, joys and creativity.
I see ALL of this when I see John... every time I see him... whether he's carrying cans, pushing shopping carts, walking north or south, or enduring the extremes of the weather. He always stands out to me and catches my eye; seeing him grounds me.
I ponder on these thoughts of John. He was a child once. He was a teenager too. He's old enough to have seen combat somewhere. How long has he been homeless? What systems or series of situations or decisions created his homelessness? How long has he walked the streets of Detroit? What has he seen or done in his lifetime? Who has he loved and who has loved him? What are his regrets? Does he even have any? Does he remember them? What does he remember from day to day? I know none of these answers or really anything about him, yet he has left a VERY big impression on me. This man, this human, this beggar, this child, this soul, this sweetness... John in Detroit.
