Big Mike

There's a homeless man that I see every day while I'm waiting to pick Dave up from work. Now, I've never asked him if he's homeless but given my experiences working with the homeless population, I'd say it's a pretty good bet that he is. I've started to refer to him as Big Mike, mostly because he reminds of the kid from The Blind Side. He's tall, weighs probably a good 250 pounds, is African American, and appears to be about 20-25 years old. Every day he is wearing the same outfit: maroon sweatpants, a camouflaged sweatshirt, a black winter hat, and those tan worker boots. Every day he carries a small black duffel bag that appears to be rather empty. Every day I pull up next to the US Bank Tower downtown Milwaukee, call Dave to tell him I'm outside waiting, and wait for Big Mike to appear from around the corner. Sure enough, every day for the past few months he's appeared, at the exact same time. I'm not sure where he comes from but I'm assuming it's from one of the buildings across the street - he always emerges in my review mirror as he rounds the corner to where I'm parked. He walks really slow with his head down. People carrying brief cases, dressed in suits, walk past him every day, hop into their parked cars (mostly the fancy type - BMW, Lexus, Audi) and flea the city to their warm, suburban homes. I sit in my warm car, radio on, wondering about this man I see every day. The Salvation Army shelter isn't far from where I see him and given the time I usually arrive to pick Dave up, I'm assuming that he's walking to the shelter to get in line to wait for the doors to open, hoping to be one of the few who actually finds room in a shelter that night. Every day I wonder about his story - where did he come from? Does he have any family? Is he educated? Where does he spend his days? Mostly I wonder if there's anything I can do to help him. I remember a day in January where there was a good foot of snow on the ground and it was still falling - Big Mike was trudging along as usual, without any gloves, without a warm winter coat. I wanted to roll down the window and tell him to hop in - he'd be coming home to the suburbs for a warm meal and a warm place to sleep. I WANTED to do that but didn't for many many reasons - mostly because I knew my husband would divorce me, right after committing me to a psychiatry hospital.

I've been thinking about Big Mike for a while now and wondering what, realistically, I COULD do. I realized that what I CAN do is continue to care about him. I CAN donate money to the local homeless shelters in hopes that it helps Big Mike have a place to stay, food to eat, and rehabilitation services to get him out of his current situation. I CAN encourage others to look beyond the stereotypes of poverty and homelessness and support finding solutions that work. I CAN be part of the solution rather than a part of the problem. Most importantly, I can PRAY for him - that he stays safe, finds comfort in knowing that God uses all bad things for good, and that he eventually finds a place to call HOME.