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For I Was Hungry - Jeremy Ruzich |
1/22/10
Last May, during a month-long road trip, I found myself camping solo on a
gorgeous, isolated beach just south of Virginia Beach, VA. This
mid-western boy became easily enamored watching the waves, shorebirds, and
dolphins. (I can’t wait until I get to see both the Pacific and Atlantic
Oceans in one summer this year.)
On the second day of my camping, I met a man named Scott. I first saw him
as he slowly approached out of the haze, walking briskly and barefoot
along water’s edge, his mismatched sandals on a string slung across his
shoulder. He wore a gray sweatshirt and dark gray sweatpants rolled up
for wading along the beach. His hair and beard were not thick but clearly
had not been cut in many months. The most eye-catching trait was the skin
on his nose and cheeks, which had sun-burned, peeled and burned again.
The fleshy pink dotted with freckles contrasted strongly with his
overly-tanned skin. I would have placed his age around 35. I don’t know
if he walked all the way from Upstate New York, where he said he is from,
but he had certainly been walking a lot.
He asked me if I knew how to dig oysters, said he watched a show years ago
on how to, and shared his dream of starting a little mobile oyster stand.
Somewhere in his ramblings he mentioned his time in the Marines and how
“it used to be easy to become famous as a photographer in those days.” He
asked me how far it was to the road and what it was like on the other side
of the dunes. He shook my hand again and continued on his way. But he
turned around briefly to say “Jesus loves you!” I responded in kind as he
trotted on and gradually faded into the saltwater haze. And that’s when
it all hit me.
Scott was homeless, hungry, and very friendly. I could have made more
conversation, could have offered him to stay and have some food – I had
plenty. But the entire time I was thinking of my stuff in the nearby
tent, my expensive camera gear, stuff he might be tempted to take. I just
wanted him to leave. And then he did, with a smile and without a plea.
I admit my mistake now only because I am trying to learn from it and hold
myself accountable. There often happen at crucial times in our lives interactions with certain people that grant us the great service of
helping us open our eyes. The choice falls on us to take these moments to
heart.
- Jeremy Ruzich
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Comment by karen@aspengrovepropertiesllc. on 2010-02-01 17:11:16
very humbling experience! |
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