You both touched my heart today.
Your jailhouse tattoos, telling of a different life.
Your weathered face, your unkempt clothes.
You both work so hard.
And unloaded my van.
You treated me like royalty.
You both were so kind.
Why did you get those tattoos?
Why do you collect these cans?
I can see you're tired, weary too.
I’m eating roast tonight.
Everyday food for me.
A feast for everyday people.
I had jailhouse tattoos on my heart!
My life, like yours, has been weathered.
The path I’ve traveled, unkempt.
Not me more than you!
He has erased my tattoos!
He gives rest to my tired and weary soul.
As I think of you.
You reminded me of God’s love, and that
We’re all beautiful - His everyday people.
This poem I wrote tells of two people I met today. One was a man at the McDonalds drive-thru, and the other was a lady (actually I've met her before), who collects cans around the area.
The young man at McDonalds has obviously lived a hard life. He had jailhouse tattoos not hidden well under his uniform, although he was trying real hard. I'm not sure of his life, I can only imagine, but it seemed obvious that he never was brought up by parents who taught him basic manners. It wasn't that he was rude. No, it was exactly opposite. I don't know if I can explain with words, but he was working so hard to do the right thing with his words and manners. He treated me like I was *up here* and he *down there*. I imagine a lot of people have treated him like that in his life though. That saddens me.
In our area, an elderly woman rides her bike, like a postman - in rain, sleet or snow, collecting cans to return for the deposit. I've seen her digging in trashes and combing the woods - always with a smile on her face. She works so hard. Her clothes are disheveled and her face and hands rough. She isn't homeless though, but I imagine most people think she is. I also bet most people have never taken the time to talk to her to find that out though. That saddens me too. Today she offered to help me unload my car as she was taking our cans. She could easily be my grandmother - and she was offering to help me! I told her I wish I could help her more. "Oh, I'm fine dear" she said. I could tell she really just enjoyed a conversation with me, as I did with her.
You know, sometimes I get very (light years) removed from reality. I am like the Pharisees in the Bible, only associating with the religious elite, and shaking my head at the sinners in a righteous fashion. As I get to know Jesus though, I see how wrong that is! Jesus ate with sinners, he spoke and loved the adulteress. I don't want to be a Pharisee - I want to be like Jesus!
I hope in some little way, I was more like Jesus today. I want my kids to grow up, learning to love, accept, and get their hands a little messy with the beautiful people that our society turns their heads to. Whether its the poor, the battered, the mentally challenged, the elderly, or simply the not-so-perfect white-collared Christian - I want my kids to have an open heart to them.
And today I'm learning - they will only learn that from me.