WHAT TO TEACH YOUR CHILDREN ABOUT THE HOMELESS

I grew up in rural Alberta, in a little cabin in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. My childhood was ideal and my needs were fully met. My trips to the city were few and far between and my exposure to the homeless contingent was pretty much nil. When I was growing up,  I don’t remember even thinking about the homeless. It was just a little reality that I was never in touch with. My children grew up in the same manner…in a cabin in the woods of our beloved Colorado. Their basic needs were met and as our town was the last pit stop before the ski meccas of Western Colorado, their exposure to people with nowhere safe to sleep was also pretty much non-existent. For someone with literally no experience or education in this department, I proved to be quite a fountain of “information” when push came to shove. I submit this story of my own ridiculous, religious, messed up world view to my lovely readers as a form of cleansing and an internet reminder to myself and others like me…to shut it.

We were on a trip to Ft. Worth, Texas and all four of our kiddos were with us. We were crammed into the suburban with kids and gear and about to head home. We pulled off the interstate to drive through for some lunch and when we entered the underpass there was a couple there with a scraggly dog and a cardboard sign  that said, “NO WORK, NO HOME, NO FOOD.” I didn’t think a thing of it. But Russell, who could fully read and had never witnessed a cardboard sign with a desperate message, said, “Mama? Did you see that sign?! Did you see what it said?! It said they have no work and no home and no food! And they have a dog!!!! We need to help them!” His voice was earnest and upset. He was so troubled to come upon someone in this predicament. He wanted to take action right away. Perhaps if he had a better person for a mother, he could have. But he has me, so he experienced a delay.

I remember thinking to myself that this was a great opportunity to teach the kids about the real world and how some people aren’t honest and about how you have to be careful that you don’t get scammed.  We pulled into the McDonald’s parking lot and I launched into my lesson on motives and protection. This is what I said, “Kids, I know that seems shocking to see people standing there with their dog and a sign that says stuff like that. What you need to understand is that sometimes these people are doing drugs or drinking too much alcohol and they are just trying to think of ways to get people to give them money so they can go get more drugs or alcohol. They might even wear dirty clothes on purpose to get you to feel sorry for them. You have to be careful that you don’t just give all your money to them because you can’t know for sure what they would do with it. Do you understand?” Russell and Ivy looked back at me with great big eyes, shocked to hear that people anywhere on earth would scam other people.  I felt sad for them that they had to now learn to distrust fellow humans, who they were wanting to help. But, it was my motherly duty to break that news to them. I did what I had to do.

Here’s where my parenting got super mixed-messagey and I ended up shooting holes in my own “how to treat the homeless” lesson.  We had also been teaching our kids that they can hear from God themselves. We taught them, since they were itty bitty, that they could sense the voice of God for themselves, in their own gigantic hearts. We taught them how to be still and listen and to trust that they could hear heaven speaking to them. (Lovely readers, if you think I am crazy for teaching my kids this, that’s okay with me. After 20+ years as a Jesus-following parent, I am now confident that if listening for God’s voice was the only thing I ever taught them, it would be enough.) Somewhere deep down, I must have known that my approach to the underpass family was somewhat less than “What would Jesus Do” because I then announced, “You know what? Let’s ask God. Let’s listen to what He tells us. He can tell us if they are being honest or if they are trying to fool us.”  I was a genius. I was going to incorporate a “hearing from God” lesson into this “how can we be wise with the homeless” lesson. They were all in.  I just knew that God was going to speak to them that the underpass-puppy-couple were scam artists and that we should protect our money, buy some cheeseburgers and head on our merry way. My beautiful children closed their eyes to see what they could hear in their hearts.  We were quiet for a couple of minutes and even though I was so sad that my kids were having to grow up in this way, I was confident of what they would hear. They popped their eyes open after a couple more moments and it was clear they had an answer. “I think I heard something,” said four year old Ivy. “Yeah, me too,” Russell chimed in. “Okay! What did you hear, Ivy?” “I heard that yes they are lying but that we are still supposed to help them.” “Yeah! Me too,”Russell agreed emphatically.

What? Oh. Ohhhhhhhhhhhh. I think I stammered out a “Yeahhhh, that sounds like God to me” and then I turned around in my seat and hated myself for a few hours. Barry swung into the drive through line and bought as much McDonalds as two people could eat and my happy, accurately-hearing-the-voice-of-God children continued on with their mission to love and take care of all people, despite the delay that their religious, non-voice-of-God-listening Mother had caused.

What the bleep was wrong with me? I had just spent ten intentional minutes teaching my children that people on this planet can only be loved and cared for if their motives are pure. I had just purposefully told my children that people must be categorized, judged, sized-up and treated accordingly. I had instructed them in the ways of self-preservation and protecting their money.  What the heck? If those things were actually true, then I was screwed! If I was only going to be loved and cared for if my motives were pure, then there was going to be no hope for me either. If categorizing, judging and sizing-up was an approach used on me, then I would probably fall into the “she needs attention, she’s insecure, she messes up relationships” category and people would never even want to be my friends, let alone help me or care for me.

Let me tell you, there was a revival going on in the front seat of our suburban that day. My kids, in their own purity of heart and ability to hear God without a political filter had smashed my jacked up theology to smithereens.  I was disgusted with myself and humbled. This is the love I had been teaching them their whole, little lives. Love is patient. Love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 NIV.   This is what I had taught them. This love, in conjunction with listening for how God might want me to give it, was the life-altering message my kids delivered to me that day.

I have chosen exposure therapy to cure my own heart of it’s weak love. I have connected my family and our arts organization to the Calgary Drop In Centre, the biggest outreach to the homeless in all of Canada. We raise money for the the DI by auctioning off our campers’ art and we sign up to serve meals there whenever we can. I want my life to be about more than self-preservation and I want to make sure that my children get the chance to maintain their beautiful ,soft hearts. My children have changed my mind and continue to challenge me to let go of bizarre biases and opinions. My children and God have taught me to recognize that every human has a story and our stories are to be honored. I have learned that it is arrogant to assume that we know why someone does the things they do or how they got where they are. I have learned that it is evil to size someone up and put them into a box in my mind. Any way that looks different than listening for the heart of God for someone and acting on it is probably the wrong way.

So, jacked up parents, there is hope for us. When you hear yourself spouting off some strange diatribe to your kids that makes you feel a little sick when you say it, stop and listen to what you are saying. Are you teaching them to harden their hearts? Are you teaching them to operate from a purely cerebral platform? Pay attention to your kids’ innocent, uncluttered heart inclinations towards love and kindness.

The Calgary Drop In Centre is a force for love that has changed my life. If you are looking for a place to give your heart some feet, give them your time and resources. They are walking the walk.