For Everyone They Impact

That's when he showed the open wound on the back of his right calf to the cars in front of us. He held a sign that said "NEED BANDAGES PLEASE" with a meek look on his bearded face. He stood in the middle of the median moving from car to car.

My first visceral reaction: disgust and anger. Empathy was no where in sight.

"What's wrong with that guy?" our oldest daughter Beatrice said.

"Don't look, Beatrice," my wife Amy said.

"Look at what?"

"This guy has a big wound on his leg and he's showing it to us all. It's gross and you don't need to see that," Amy said.

"What? What wound?"

"It's like his leg is cut open and you can see his calf muscles," I said.

"Kevin, don't tell her that."

"Gross!"

Beatrice could see, but our youngest Bryce could not. Thank goodness. The left turn lane light changed to a green arrow and we moved past the man, his bad leg turned away from us.

"God, he could lose his leg," Amy said.

"He should go to urgent care or to one of the emergency rooms. They most likely won't refuse him with an injury like that," I said.

"Maybe he doesn't know any better."

"Sure he does; why do you think he's out here begging for money for supposed bandages with that friggin' leg? It's a sympathy play for drug money."

"Sweetie, he may not know any better. He could be mentally ill. I'm calling the non-emergency line."

And so she did. We kept making our way to the store while she talked with the police department. They said they'd do a wellness check on the guy, and when we went back the same way to continue our errands, he was gone.

Like too many west coast communities these days, the growing acrimony between local community members and people experiencing homelessness seems to be at all-time high. Where we live is no exception. Crime and drug use are quite prevalent near the local unsanctioned encampment where conditions have only worsened over time.

And again, as I've written before, we have a family like many other families in Santa Cruz that we want to keep safe, and with 39 percent of Santa Cruz homeless having psychiatric and emotional health issues, 38 percent suffering from drug and alcohol abuse, and nearly 30 percent being incarcerated for a night in the past year (as of 2017 local stats). Many of us struggle with "not in my backyard" syndrome. Because they are literally in our neighborhood backyards and the city was considering opening transitional encampments in literally our neighborhood backyards.

We continue to educate ourselves as to what's happening in our community and we most certainly understand that this isn't just a housing crisis but a drug and associated crime crisis as well. Not to mention the safety of women and children experiencing homelessness today in our community.

But this guy with the nasty leg, he's somebody's son. He could even be a father himself. We have no idea about his story and the fact that my wife was compassionate enough to call the non-emergency line, was at least something. Maybe others called, too. Giving him money wouldn't have helped; he needed to a wellness check and emergency healthcare. Could he have faked the wound? Maybe, but it looked pretty real to us. And in the end, he's not part of our family anyway.

Yet, on some greater spiritual level, maybe he is.

These crises are escalating in communities like ours at an alarming rate. They are complex and there is no unifying clear solution for everyone they impact. And they most certainly impact everyone, and every family.

The guy in the clock tower

It's like random sniper fire from a clock tower. At least, that's how it feels.

The rapid-fire bullets hit me all over: the news of my dad, my mother's health, the fear of what we do wrong, global financial uncertainty, political extremism, civil unrest and incivility, domestic violence, the sudden weather change, unexpected business, unexpected bills, family colds, family cries, Daylight Savings time, choices and lack thereof --

As I lay there bleeding out hope (metaphorically mind you), I drift in and out about what to do, what to do, what to do. It's only matter of moments, an imaginary one-hour shift, but time is relative when you're riddled with emotional holes clean through.

My pulse slows and I close my eyes.

blip

blip

blip

[flatline]

I say a prayer for us all. Tiny hands push on my chest.

"Daddy sleeping!"

I hear giggles and snickers. A snotty hot nose sideswipes my cheek. More tiny hands on my chest, then giggles.

[clear - zap]

blip

blip

blip

I open my eyes. Smiling B-hive angels lay hands on me. Mama angel bends down and kisses me.

"I love you," she says.

I pull her closer and whisper in her ear:

"I'm taking out the guy in the clock tower."

 

We pray for healing anyway, because that could happen to any of us

You think, never my child.

That could never happen to us.

But it happened to our friends, to people we don't even know.

First there's Julia. The sweetest little girl we have yet to meet whose mother I used to work with. She has Down syndrome and had heart surgery just this week. She was born with atrioventricular septal defect (AVSD), a congenital heart defect common with Down babies.

Then there's the sudden death of a dear friend's unborn child recently. Only 20 weeks in the womb before complications arose.

Then there's a talented musician cousin who's battle with brain tumors have taken quite a toll on everyday life since childhood.

And then there are the children I watch as a child advocate at a local women's shelter. Physically healthy children from varied backgrounds and socioeconomic strata who live with domestic violence and the emotional and psychological toll it takes.

That could never happen to us.

On the other side of the sandwich you think, never my parents.

There is mine whose health has been compromised for decades, both mom and dad, and now while my mother still heals from back surgery last Thanksgiving, my father has to have heart surgery for a second time this decade, hundreds of miles away...

Mama and I love our friends and family. We pray for God's healing although we don't usually pray, or have faith that prayer or God's healing is real or viable.

We pray for healing anyway, because that could happen to any of us.

It puts many other worries into perspective, and one place to start the healing is to love each other and love your children.

Amen.