A couple weeks ago, I wrote the Part 1 to this story of a homeless man I met by the skytrain station back home. Here is the rest of the story of what happened.
As the months went by, my relationship with the man at the skytrain station deepened. At first I just gave him granola bars. But as I kept praying for “the man by the skytrain station”, my desire to help him or just get to know why he was there grew.
I got to know his name, Darryl, and he got to know mine too. I didn’t walk by him every day, but when I did, every time before I met him I would pray and ask God for courage, and try to linger a little to have a conversation. Most days we talked about the weather (it was cold and rainy most days), how the draft blew at him at night between the wall and the pillars, and what his favourite flavour of granola bars was (it was chocolate). Some days he mentioned how he slept over at a friend’s house. Or, if he hadn’t been “earning” very much some days and people had been stepping on his hat. I learned that he considered his pan-handling his “business”.
Once in a while, however, I would get more details about his life. For example, a conversation about a doctor’s visit led to my learning that he had colon cancer. A mention about having a birthday party for his “children’s mother” one day informed me that he had family out there somewhere. Another day, he mentioned how he had “dream people”, people who he consistently fantasized/dreamed about and were his friends. “Crazy, aren’t I?” he remarked with a twinge of self-depreciating irony, “but then again, most people are, you know.”
In May I graduated, and I didn’t pass by Darryl’s place for a while. I also went on a family vacation and attended the week of Training Camp for the World Race. When I got back, there was only one month left before I left on the Race.
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The weeks went by as I prepared for the Race, until there was only 1 week left. I knew I needed to see Darryl again before I left. So early on Wednesday, I got up to make a trip to the skytrain station. There he was, at his usual spot, with his cap pulled low and his mournful voice drawling for change.
He greeted me like I had never been gone. “Oh, hi, Stephanie! Are you back from your trip? Did you get me anything?” I had. I pulled out the cap I had bought for him, and with satisfaction he put it away in his small bag of worldly belongings. We chatted for a while, and I told him I would be leaving on a year-long trip, to tell people in other parts of the world about God. I told him I would be leaving very soon and whether he needed or wanted anything before I left. I thought of a parting gift, such as a new shirt or an extra blanket. “Just come back safely”, was his surprising reply.
As I got back home, I strongly regretted not praying for him. I had wanted to do it, but I was too scared to bring it up. I thought I would not see him again, as I had plans until Sunday before my plane flight on Monday, and I had already said goodbye to him.
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On the Saturday night before my Monday flight, I was trying on my Tevas, and they were hurting my feet a bit. I would go crazy if I went on an 11-month trip with pinched feet, so I decided to skip church the next day to exchange them at the store downtown. I suddenly realized that I might get to see Darryl again! But would he be there on a Sunday? That night, I resolved that if I saw Darryl on Sunday, I would pray for him before I left.
Sunday morning dawned, and you can guess what happened. There he was! He greeted me with some surprise. I noticed the wide smile on his face. With that smile, he doesn’t look scary at all, I thought, he just looks like a vulnerable old man. We chatted for a while. Another homeless man approached us, and I gestured to him. “Looks like your friend wants to talk to you,” I ventured. “He’s no friend of mine!” Darryl answers emphatically. With some crude language Darryl chases him away. We chat for a while more, and then it was time to go. Remembering my promise, I took a deep breath and asked, “Darryl, can I pray for you before I go?”
Darryl whips his cap off his head and closes his eyes right away. “Yes please!” was his unquestioning answer. I place my hands on his shoulders and prayed for him. I prayed that he would know that the Lord loves him very much, and that He sees him and hears his prayers. I prayed that if Darryl didn’t know Jesus yet, that he would desire to. I prayed for protection for him. When I opened my eyes, I could see that there were tears in his. “Thank you, my dear, thank you,” his voice was low and unlike his usual tough one. “Yes, I do know Jesus, he was the one who helped me survive that time in the hospital when I discovered I had colon cancer long ago.”
After praying, I said a hasty goodbye and hurried up the escalator to the skytrain platform. As the doors closed on the train and it pulled out of the station, I think I had tears in my eyes too as I said goodbye to my street friend for a year.
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Through our brief, infrequent, often awkward interactions, he had taught me so much. Before I met him, I hadn’t realized how small and closed my circle of acquaintances had been. I hung out with people my own age, privileged like me to be educated and have the support of family and friends. Darryl showed me there was a whole community of people who lived in a totally different realm in the same city. For some reason, they had ended up on the streets; the stories are as varied as their ages and faces. By meeting Darryl and talking to him, slowly I began to talk to more homeless people and realize that it wasn’t so scary at all to talk to them, but that a short conversation and a granola bar, simple as they are, can brighten up their day.
I also realized the importance of listening to God’s nudging. The still, small voice that told me to talk to Darryl…although my actions were small, they created a gateway for me to learn to talk to other homeless people. And though I may not have seemed to help Darryl very much, I know God can use those actions to create further change in Darryl’s life in the future. I also learned that God can use me, just a simple Asian girl, to change someone’s life. I know God made Darryl and I cross paths on purpose.
Where is Darryl now? Still at the skytrain station? Or perhaps someone was able to offer him help at last. Wherever we are, whoever we are, never underestimate the power you have to change someone’s life.
