I was standing in the parking lot of one of my favorite stores, talking to one of my favorite friends when I saw her.
She was alone, standing a few feet back, looking in our direction. It was damp and cool outside and the Oklahoma wind was whistling through the trees. She looked cold.
Was she waiting on us? I wondered, as I watched her over my friend’s shoulder. I couldn’t be sure, so the two of us kept talking; we hadn’t seen each other in months.
Eventually the girl walked closer and with tears in her eyes asked, “Can either of you help me?”
“I don’t know, “ I said, as my friend and I turned to greet her. “What kind of help do you need?”
Her name was Kelsey*, she was 26 years old and homeless. Her navy sweatshirt was dirty, her eyes had a slight twitch and she smelled bad. Yet there was a vulnerability about her that I wanted to reach out to.
After a few minutes of asking her questions and getting to know her, we realized that this was not going to be an easy fix. “Let me call a few people and see what we need to do for you,” I told her.
My friend, who needed to leave, gave me a hug and then turned to hug Kelsey, “Stay with her,” she said, pointing towards me. “She’ll take care of you.” (Gee thanks!)
I had been praying silently, asking God to give me discernment. I am not experienced with the homeless; where I live we aren’t often approached. But I was also aware that I needed to try to do something…the first thing of which was to find her shelter for the night since I knew storms were coming our way.
I called two different friends, both experienced in situations like this, one a pastor, the other a director for a large non-profit downtown. Following their direction (still standing in the parking lot of the store) I called one shelter or resource after another.
I had no cash with me and was uncomfortable taking her in my car. (Both of my friends had said, “Do not take her anywhere by yourself. She may be totally telling the truth, or she may be lying. Be careful.”)
I finally found a shelter that would accept her and was arranging for their compassion ride to come pick her up. It was then that she told me the traffic warrants she had mentioned when we called the first shelter were really warrants for trespassing and aiding and abetting. “I’ve been to that shelter before and they won’t let me stay because of my warrants.”
“I have one friend on southside that sometimes lets me stay, but I don’t have any way to get there. I have a watch I can sell. If I can get to a pawn shop, I can maybe get cash and pay someone to take me there.”
It was becoming clear that there was more to her story than I knew. Although I still sincerely believed she needed help, I was realizing that she didn’t really want what I felt like I could offer her.
I gave her directions to the nearest pawn shop, only about six blocks away. Then I hugged her, prayed for her, and watched her start down the sidewalk.
I stood there a long time…feeling confused, feeling sad, feeling helpless.
I understood why I shouldn’t give her a ride from a safety standpoint. But I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do from a compassion standpoint. I knew she really wanted me to drive her to the other side of town and part of me wanted to jump in my car, drive down the street, load her in the car and take her.
I turned around slowly and went into the shop. It was what I came for — it was why I was there. Earlier I had discovered a gift card I thought I’d already used — that was the only reason I had stopped in the first place.
Now my mood for shopping was subdued. Could I have done anything different? I kept thinking of the scripture from Matthew 25 that says…
“For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’ “They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’ “He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’As I walked through the rooms and looked at the beautiful holiday displays the contrast was clear. I was buying baubles…Kelsey was wondering where to spend the night.
*name was changed
Footnote: I only felt slightly better when my friend who runs the nonprofit told me that I did the right thing. She heard the entire story and felt like Kelsey had an established pattern and knew the system well. “It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t help them when you can. But when all the help you are offering is not what they seem to want, you can’t do much. They have to be willing to take it.”
I continue to think about Kelsey. I pray that she will be protected and eventually will take the help that is offered.
