This is "Blue". I met him today when I was walking along Commercial Drive with Rachel and Kiki. We'd headed into Vancouver so that Kiki could take some pictures for the photography class that she's currently taking at Trinity. It took some convincing to get me out of the officetoday (I left work 2 hours early, solemnly swearing to put in an extra two hours tomorrow), but as soon as I was in Kiki's truck and on the way to the city, I was more than convinced that I'd made a good decision.
Within a few minutes of parking the truck a few blocks north of East 1st avenue, I'd met Blue. In fact, I was standing in an alley taking a few pictures of an old fire escape, when I shifted my focus and took a few shots of the dumpster. Blue came running up insisting that he be in the shot with the dumpster. He figured if he posed the way he did it would look like the dumpster was his friend. Maybe, just maybe, people would be convinced that the dumpster was actually a person. While Blue's friendliness and eagerness to be in my picture caught me off guard, I was more than happy to take the shot. After all, who knew, maybe this would be the highlight of Blue's day (or the highlight of my own, as it was). Once I took the shot, Blue made some mention of how he and his band hung out around the Alpha video store, and that we should walk by later and listen to them play and maybe take another photo. We chatted with him for a few minutes, and found out that his name is actually Devon, but everyone calls him Blue because of the hair.
The Laundromat - Reflections of Cleanliness
An Escape
The Latin QuarterAfter walking up and down Commerical drive for the next half an hour, we ran into Blue again in front of the video store with his band. We stopped and took their picture, as he'd asked before, and we were able to chat with Blue for a few minutes. As I stood there listening to him, my heart ached. Standing before me was a 25 year-old man with little food and little hope. He remembered when he used to live on a farm with his mom and how she would feed him huge sandwiches and lots of cookies, and pour him more than enough milk to drink. When we asked him what he ate now, he pulled a pink gumball out of his pocket.
Gumballs. He eats gumballs.
I was blown away by the simplicity and scarcity of his meals. He lives on a street renowned for cheap ethnic food, and all he can afford to feed himself are gumballs. When you're feeding an addiction, and his is acid, I guess you don't give much thought to feeding yourself. It hurt to hear that he had dropped 16 tablets of acid the other day and had topped that off with some E. He described how, when he was on the drugs, men had bicycles for lower limbs and no one had eyes, just noses, on their faces. I can't imagine being in a place where that was the only available form of escape. After he had reached down to touch my toes, a sign to me that he was high on an unknown dose of acid, we left him with a couple of hugs.
While we left Blue hours ago, I can't seem to get him off my mind. Maybe it's because I know that Jesus says, "whatever you do for the least of these brothers of mine, you do for me" and I can't help but think how little I did for this man. Did I feed him or clothe him? Did I give him a drink or invite him in? No. I stood there, wide-eyed, as he pulled a pink gumball out of his pocket, and I did nothing. Yes, I spoke to him. Yes, I touched him and I took his picture. I listened to his stories. I smiled and I laughed with him, but that seems far from enough. I know that I can't fix everything and I can't offer him everything, but he has practical needs that I have the means to provide for. As I lie here and type this I'm crying because I know that there's more than one Blue out there and there are more people like me who will neglect to offer everything that we have to these people. We're all failures. We first failed when people like Blue were forced to live off gumballs in order to feed their addictions and we will continue to fail. Thankfully this is no surprise to God, who loves us in spite of our failing nature, and who offers us hope in these circumstances. I am so thankful that in meeting Blue I've been challenged to think more about my inaction and my lack of provision. I'm praying that I will have another opportunity to practically provide for him.
Gumballs. He eats gumballs.
I was blown away by the simplicity and scarcity of his meals. He lives on a street renowned for cheap ethnic food, and all he can afford to feed himself are gumballs. When you're feeding an addiction, and his is acid, I guess you don't give much thought to feeding yourself. It hurt to hear that he had dropped 16 tablets of acid the other day and had topped that off with some E. He described how, when he was on the drugs, men had bicycles for lower limbs and no one had eyes, just noses, on their faces. I can't imagine being in a place where that was the only available form of escape. After he had reached down to touch my toes, a sign to me that he was high on an unknown dose of acid, we left him with a couple of hugs.
While we left Blue hours ago, I can't seem to get him off my mind. Maybe it's because I know that Jesus says, "whatever you do for the least of these brothers of mine, you do for me" and I can't help but think how little I did for this man. Did I feed him or clothe him? Did I give him a drink or invite him in? No. I stood there, wide-eyed, as he pulled a pink gumball out of his pocket, and I did nothing. Yes, I spoke to him. Yes, I touched him and I took his picture. I listened to his stories. I smiled and I laughed with him, but that seems far from enough. I know that I can't fix everything and I can't offer him everything, but he has practical needs that I have the means to provide for. As I lie here and type this I'm crying because I know that there's more than one Blue out there and there are more people like me who will neglect to offer everything that we have to these people. We're all failures. We first failed when people like Blue were forced to live off gumballs in order to feed their addictions and we will continue to fail. Thankfully this is no surprise to God, who loves us in spite of our failing nature, and who offers us hope in these circumstances. I am so thankful that in meeting Blue I've been challenged to think more about my inaction and my lack of provision. I'm praying that I will have another opportunity to practically provide for him.
Blue & His Band on Commerical Drive
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