Are Angels Entertaining Us?

I've posted a bit on here and Facebook about the homeless people with whom we come into contact. They are frequent and alternately (and sometimes simultaneously) heart-breaking and entertaining.

We also just see a lot of people by virtue of the fact that we are on a well-worn thoroughfare and people walk past the house to get to Taco Cabana, Chick-fil-A, and Jimmy Johns during the weekday lunch hours.

Lots of people (office workers and the down-and-out) walk by and see Mal, stop, and coo over him for a bit. I feel like he's some sort of cosmic Welcome Wagon that makes everyone feel a little better about their day (see "He's Such a Happy Baby!"), and love sitting out on the front porch with him.

A couple of people have suggested that we occasionally entertain angels, because people will show up, then mysteriously disappear (like in moments, not months like the crochet guy). This makes me laugh sometimes, because typically one of them will show up a few days later, burnt out of his gourd, and the thought of a hammered heavenly being is somewhat amusing to me. Flying, indeed.

One day, a gentleman who wasn't overtly homeless (transient? shelter? just fastidious about his cleanliness?) or professionally-employed stopped and said, "You have a blessin' from God right there." I agreed. Mal smiled at him, and, of course, it made his day. He said, "I have three packets of that..." he gestured, trying to think, "...those things. The wipes. You live here?" I told him that I did. He said, "I'm going to bring you one. I'll leave it on your porch."

I smiled and thanked him, but didn't expect anything.

About a week later, James had gone out to the trash and came back with this.

It made me smile, and it was humbling. Very often, after I talk to the people who walk past, I'm pretty sure they remember none of it. Some of them are in altered states. Some of them just have mental problems. Some are probably too focused on survival to think of me, and our baby, and where we live, and remember to bring us something.

Then, a week or so later, James brought this in from the front porch.

So, for all I know, we now have every single one of this gentleman's wipe collection. Here's something I've learned: Nothing else gets hardening teething biscuit goo off of my child (and table) like these wet wipes! Mal even loves sucking on them (before I catch him), even though they taste like medicine. I guess when you teeth hurt, you're desperate.

Once again, the thought of this man taking the time and effort to give us something when we have no genuine need but he likely does just hit me and made me grateful to God for the grace of his people.

Then, this morning...

Mal wasn't fully awake, but he was soaking wet. I got him up and changed him, then set about the morning tasks. I opened the blinds and saw this:

It's pears, pears and raspberries, sweet potatoes, carrots, and, of course, Jell-o cups. In all honesty, I will probably pass on the Jell-o cups. But the baby food is fully sealed, and it's the good stuff! This one, people, made me cry. I imagine a charity hand-out situation, and this man, thinking of Mal, and grabbing what he can, and passing it along.

This week, my family has seen God's protection and provision in a big way (more on that later), but sometimes the sweetest reminders can be the little things. This is definitely one of them. And maybe the angels are entertaining us.

An update on the Nuthaus and its surrounds

Well, it's official. There's a lockbox on our door, and we're planning to move when our lease is up this summer. We're looking in town, so will still be in a pretty urban area... but it won't be the same. That has its good points and its bad points.

We love walking everywhere. The walking score where we're looking is nowhere near as good as here. But we'll get to walk a bit further, so maybe get more exercise. And we'll get to know a new area of Austin. This part isn't the only cool part, right?

Someone stole one of our flamingos last night, which brings the stolen flamingo count up to 4, plus the one someone took then abandoned in the alley, and I found it and put it back.

Also, last night our neighbors had a very weird domestic dispute right outside of our bedroom window (the house is like 4 feet from ours) when the woman came home and couldn't get into the house. She said, "Seriously? You're going to be like this? Let me in! I want in the house!" This went on for about 10 minutes before she went upstairs and started trying to get him to open the door up there. Reminding him, "I have a key!" and yelling his name and, "Let me in the house!" THAT went on for about half an hour. I was seriously considering calling 311 because clearly she needed some help.

Side note: She's very sweet. She's offered to help me with my baby, if I need it, but I think I'll take a big old pass on that one for now.

Anyway, the better part of an hour after it started, the guy's voice chimes in. It didn't sound like he came from the house, so maybe he'd parked and walked to a bar or something? He said, "Just a second. I'll let you in." (She was upstairs at that door, and he was down at the lower entry.) He then said, "I found the other key." And we didn't hear anything after that. Weird stuff.

Today, a guy was walking by, saw Mal and me sitting out front, and stopped to chat with us. That happens a lot. But he told me I had a "little blessing" in my lap and said he had gotten 3 packages of wipes and would bring me one, leaving it on the bench cushion outside. Oookay.

Finally, I'm sad to say the crochet guy has disappeared! After like a year! The last time I saw him, I took him some cookies we'd made at a cookie exchange just before Christmas. I figured I'd do that first, and then next time I saw him, ask him what he was making. Now he's gone.

I rode down to get cat food today, and I love this neighborhood. I got a little misty-eyed sitting out on the porch today. This has been a great two years.

The Mission, should I choose to accept it...

It's been a while since I've posted to this blog, but I have a good excuse! I have a two-month-old who LOVES his mommy and can't seem to be around me enough. It's flattering, if exhausting, but I miss writing. Hopefully, within the next few months, we'll get onto some kind of nap schedule that allows me to do it some more. Baby steps. Literally.

I'm writing this because I want some accountability to do something that's way out of my comfort zone. First of all, I'm sad to say that I haven't seen "Grandpa" in months, and I hope hope hope that means he got into a long-term shelter or even that he was able to get off of the streets and into a permanent living situation.

The other day, I thought fondly and sadly of him when I saw another (unfamiliar) older guy walking around with his face pretty beat up: puffy (new) black eye with cuts and bruises, forehead bruise, face scratched up. I made it a point to make eye contact and say, "Hi." I wonder what caused the fight, and if it were reciprocal.

We love living near the UT campus and downtown, and homelessness and "feral people" are things we see every day. Still, we have a roof and doors and we are so far removed from it.

There is a gentleman who we've seen ever since we lived here, and he looks like a healthy and reasonably mentally sound person. I don't know where he sleeps, but he spends several hours of each day in the same place: a parking garage stairwell. It's right at the corner of Martin Luther King and Nueces, in the building that houses a dry cleaner and a Subway. It's where we climbed to the roof to watch fireworks last New Year's Eve.

But he doesn't just while away the hours staring off into space or talking to his invisible dog. No. This guy... crochets. He is always crocheting when I see him sitting there. The last time I saw him, it was a small white square using very fine yarn. I've seen him do longer pieces with bulkier stuff. I've never seen something as recognizable as, say, a sweater or anything... and here is where I'm challenging myself:

I want to ask him what he's making. I want to engage him. He is my neighbor. I see him at least twice a week, which is a lot more often than I see the people who live next door (which is about 5 times this whole year, although on Halloween the girl did offer to help me with the baby if I ever needed it... bless her).

As I was thinking about this, and in the middle of writing this blog post, yesterday, I saw him walking down our sidewalk, in front of our house. I was nursing at the time and while I don't mind nursing in the public that is our front porch, it's not the time I want to initially introduce myself to a potential friend. Besides, he seemed to be on his way somewhere. He has his backpack, and he has a crafting bag. I've seen him up Guadalupe a mile or so, too. But he's always around. And I want to know his story.

Maybe it's stupid that I have to put it out here and make it a "thing." My introvert husband just naturally connects with people. I wish that were the case with me, but it's not. So I'm asking you: In early 2015, ask me if I've talked with this gentleman. I hope I can tell you something more about him.