About grace

This year, ten friends and I are hoping to raise $37,500 by April 30 to support Lava Mae, an organization that provides hot showers and other services for the homeless in San Francisco. A recent census counted 7,500 homeless people in the city. Our goal represents one shower for each of the 7,500 individuals, and we will match every dollar that we raise. 


To be perfectly honest, I've always had mixed feelings about the homeless. The absolute nadir of my relationship with the issue came about five years ago, when I lived in Berkeley. For those who do not know, Berkeley has a large homeless population that is a bit notorious for its belligerence. That day, I was walking home from a talk on campus when I noticed a homeless man throwing garbage into the road. We were on a relatively deserted street, and in a snap decision, I decided to walk back the way I came – away from him. 

I had barely gone 50 feet when I felt a sharp pain at the back of my head. As I instinctively reached back there, the man began to yell threateningly and I realized that he had hit my head with some sort of screwdriver, causing me to bleed. Luckily, I was a few blocks away from the university urgent care clinic and I was able to get immediate treatment. I ended up with five stitches, a tetanus booster, and a very negative impression of the Bay Area homeless population. 

Fast forward to the present day: I now live in the SOMA district of San Francisco, where the homeless population is just as large, and just as visible. The smell of urine and body odor pervade the streets, especially around our apartment where there are a number of homeless shelters in our neighborhood. When we walk the dog, we often have to avoid human feces on the sidewalk. I still tense up when I see hostile and aggressive homeless people. 

It was only recently, after becoming a mother, that my perspective changed. Not long ago, I was walking to the grocery store with my 20 month old son, Bennett, when I realized there was a man huddled in the doorway of a neighboring church. Typically, I might have given him some change and then scurried away. However, on that particular evening, something was different. 

As I held my son's small hand and looked upon the downcast face of this man, my heart suddenly ached in a way that it had never before. It suddenly dawned on me that this homeless man, like the many homeless whom I had often judged for being nuisances, was also born to a mother. Perhaps somewhere, someone was waiting for him to come home. 

When I realized that my son could also become this homeless man at some point down the road—unwanted, unloved, and uncared for—my heart ached and I began to shamefully weep. This man hadn't been born knowing that he would someday be sleeping in a church doorway, hungry and cold. 

Sometimes it's easy to walk past a homeless person—because we know we cannot radically change someone's entire life in a single afternoon, or because the larger issues are just too overwhelming, or, in my case, because I was afraid. But what we fail to realize is that simple kindness can go a long way toward encouraging someone who is stuck in a desolate place. Much happens in the world that we cannot control, such as natural disasters or illness. But when we know where the hungry, the homeless, and the sick exist, then we can help. 

Like Jin, I believe that people find themselves homeless for a multitude of reasons. I also believe that every precious son and daughter living on the streets has the right to feeling hope and dignity. I hope that you would consider supporting us and Lava Mae by donating here: 

bit.ly/dignitychallenge

updated 4/15: changed goal date to April 30