For the past half hour, the subject of crack had been a recurring theme in our conversation.
“I am not here to buy crack, or any other drugs like I said earlier, I am just trying to find Pat’s Pub.” He looked at me suspiciously.
“Then what are you doing on West Hastings?”
“I am trying to call me friend, because this is where she said the pub was.”
“Your trying to call your sister? Just give me $20 and I’ll show you where Pat’s Pub is. I was born in this city. I am 100% healthy.” He says through his broken jaw, “My squad member died but that is besides the point.”
All in all, I spent about an hour talking to Darren Igneous, the druggie who jumped into my car as I was parked on the side of the road. After I managed to convince him that I had no money, that I was not here to buy crack or pain killers, and that I was his friend, I was finally able to get him out of my car.
It seems like having a druggie jump into my vehicle should have been a worse experience. I was definitely agitated at first, but after a while, I began to feel peace. My experience definitely began to change when I started to actually care about Darren, and began to treat him like a friend and fellow person rather than as a crazy druggie who wanted my money. Darren even allowed me to pray for his jaw before he left.
This has really opened my eyes to the needs of the poor. Not the physical needs so much, I have always known and cared about those, but about the emotional and spiritual needs. Everyone needs to know that they are loved. Everyone needs to be listened to and cared about. It is part of what makes us human.
I never thought about how big of a need there is for people to love on the homeless, but now I am beginning to hope that the L-rd will give me opportunities to do so in the future.
Even though I did not get to see a Rockabilly show with my friend Nevada, I felt like I gained a lot that night, including an interesting story and a new outlook on the poor.
PS: here is a photo that I took with my friend earlier that day.