Bob

Sometimes i have these days when everything just seems to mean something. Perhaps it doesn't and i've spent too much time searching for meaning in novels throughout college, but today was a day i felt faced with a lot in this world. Perhaps it was God speaking to me, or perhaps it was just a day when the brokenness of the world seemed to reveal itself to me. I wasn't even seeking it out. We don't even have to try. I am constantly faced with my mortality and imperfection simply by looking around and listening to those who speak to me. In these people I often see a reflection of myself, another human being trying to make it, trying to find meaning in it all- often coming up severely short, yet trying nevertheless.

Last year at this time I would have been sharing meals with my best friends. We'd laugh together about what happened to us during the day, whether or not we were going out for a few that night, or simply chat about the light or heavy things that were on all our minds- basically a hodgepodge of romance updates and an occasional debate over religion and politics.

Tonight i shared my dinner with Bob, the homeless guy who frequents Starbucks. Now don't go thinking we started our conversation because i wanted to; i'm not that bold or kind sometimes. I sat down in one of the big comfy chairs and started to eat my packed lunch, feeling pretty proud of myself that i had actually packed one and not gone to potbellys. Then Bob sat down next to me. It was a little uncomfortable but nothing new. I often see him and sit near him, but words are never exchanged. I was going to continue the pattern, but fate took me elsewhere. In the course of fifteen minutes I learned that Bob owns 6 cemetery plots in LaGrange but can't afford to take out an add in the paper to sell them. I learned that he doesn't believe in God or heaven, but when he dies he'd like his ashes to be spread beneath a big shade tree. I learned that he hates it when people in Wheaton try to convert him to Christianity. He talked about one guy in particular who makes it a point to try to "convert" him every time they meet. He said this man often manipulates conversation to direct it toward Christianity, that he should become a Christian. Bob said that maybe 25 years ago he would have taken him up on it, but these days all he wants is for people to leave him alone. I also learned that he thinks any man who orders a frappucino is a wuss and should go home. (i happen to agree on that one). But most of all I learned that Bob is just trying to make it in a really tough world. I wanted to hug him and tell him he's loved. I also wanted to tell him that I don't want to convert him, i just want to love him and for him to feel loved. The best love I know is Jesus. That's all. But I didn't tell him anything. I laughed and listened to him, because somehow I think to love him best at that moment was just to listen. The sad part about Bob, or should i say the sad part about humans like me, is that we don't see Bob's humanity. He's just another bum we give a quarter to or buy a coffee. I feel lucky that I saw Bob today, his humanity that is. Beneath the dirty jokes and cynicism and gaps in his teeth i saw something real, something hurting, something beautiful.