4 minute read
JIM DEEDS
WITH EYES WIDE OPEN
JIM DEEDS GENEROSITY BEYOND BELIEF
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EVEN WHEN WE HAVE VERY LITTLE, WE LIKE TO BE ABLE TO HELP OTHERS
Ioften walk my dogs to a pet shop that is part of a local shopping centre complex. The route takes us along the Andersonstown Road, here in West Belfast, before we enter the gates to the shopping centre. From there it is a short walk of three or four minutes, past the shopping trolleys, the big supermarket, a bank with an ATM and then the pet shop itself. The dogs know the route well and they get excited as we draw near to the shop – they know they get lots of attention and lots of dog treats in the shop.
Sitting on the ground between the bank and a few metres before the pet shop you’ll find a young man, sitting on the ground, begging for money. He’s been there, on and off, for a few years. Originally from Eastern Europe, he came here with high hopes that haven’t been fulfilled.
I’ve known him for about three years. I always stop to talk to him, to hear how he has been since we last met, and to hear of his plans. When I can I give him some money, which he assures me he spends wisely. I have no reason to doubt him, nor do I have any wish to judge what he does with what is then his money, not mine. At times, he stays in hostels or with friends. At other times, he has found himself on the streets.
I have seen him at rock bottom, very worried and very sad. However, on other occasions, he’s seen me coming and happily told me that he’d got a job or a place to live full time. He’s then disappeared from my life for some months. Sadly, it never seems to have worked out long term for him so far and he finds his way back to his spot on the ground near the pet shop. For the last year or so, he’s been back again and looking older and less healthy.
When he sees me and the dogs coming, his eyes widen and a big smile spreads across his face. Now, I have to be honest and say that it’s mainly because of the dogs, rather than me. He just
loves my dogs. When he catches sight of them, he shouts, “my friends!” They run up to him and he embraces them in a big furry hug. If someone was going by in a car and didn’t know what was going on, I’m sure it looks like the three dogs are mauling the poor man! There is such affection in their encounter, though, both from him and from the dogs. It’s quite a sight to behold.
Just before Easter, on one of our regular encounters, I saw the most remarkable thing. We had approached him and he had seen us and, as always, he was pleased to get to cuddle the dogs. As he was petting them, this young homeless man pulled out a sandwich from his bag and asked the dogs to sit. He then fed them his sandwich. I lunged towards him and told him not to give his food away.
I knew from earlier conversations that he was now living in a tent under a bridge, just outside the city centre, as he waited for hostel accommodation. I was worried that he did not have enough to
be able to feed himself well, never mind give my dogs some of his food. And yet he told me that it was okay. “I want to do this,” he said. I looked on and saw that he was determined to do it. And he enjoyed it. It seemed to make him feel good to see these dogs be so attentive and so responsive to his generosity. I guess we all like the feeling of being able to be good to other people or, as in this case, to other creatures.
It was all I could do not to cry as I looked on. Such generosity beyond belief. It devastated me, humbled me and delighted me all at the same time. I felt the devastation of knowing that our society is deeply broken when we have good young people like my friend living in tents under bridges. I was humbled by the generosity shown to my dogs and the challenge it presented me to be more generous in my life. And I was delighted to see my friend’s face light up with a sense of his own ability to be generous and to provide for his friends, my dogs. Happening, as it did, in the season of Easter, I was reminded of the powerful sculpture of the homeless Jesus; a curled-up figure hidden under a blanket (or is it the shroud?) lying on a bench, his feet sticking out from the blanket revealing the wounds of the crucifixion and, therefore, revealing his identity. The sculpture challenges us to see Jesus in those we meet, particularly those in need. I knew that in my encounter with my homeless friend I was encountering Jesus alive and well in him. How else could he have been moved to such selflessness in the midst of his own suffering?
