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“Forgiveness is the key that unlocks the shackles of resentment, liberating the heart to experience the boundless freedom of inner peace and healing.” — Author Unknown
I stood shivering in the vestibule of the apartment building, waiting for my student to let me in. It was unusually cold for early November. We quickly said our hellos, and on the way up to his apartment in the elevator, he said, “You can call me Joe, or you can call me Joseph. But don’t ever call me Joey. I hate the name Joey.”
“Okay, I said hesitatingly. “Joseph it is.”
The serious look on his face faded giving way to a beautiful toothy smile. “Most people just call me Joe,” he said. “I like Joseph.” The ice was broken, and we quickly became relaxed and comfortable with each other.
“Will a parent be home this evening?” I asked.
“I don’t have any parents,” he said. “I live alone.” His answer caught me off guard. A parent was always present when I taught. But Joseph was a twenty-year-old college student. And I wondered why social services had requested a tutor for an adult living on his own.
His apartment was sparsely decorated, but warm and inviting. And spotlessly clean. He was polite and soft-spoken, but firm about his expectations of me and our tutoring sessions. We sat at the dining room table, split a can of Pepsi, and got to work.
“Do you want to get your homework out so we can go over it?” I asked.
“Yeah, but I want to ask you a question first. Do you know anything about digital cameras?”
“A little. Why?”
“Next week I’m going to the White House. I was invited to a movie premiere. Afterward, I’ll be meeting the vice president and the cast from the movie. I bought a camera so I can take pictures of the event. But I don’t know how to set it up. Can you help me?”
“Sure,” I said. “How did this all come about?”
“Well, it’s a long story. And it’s kind of sad. When I was eight, my mother died. My father remarried two years later. His new wife and I didn’t get along. We fought a lot, and my father always took her side. He told me to keep my mouth shut and do whatever she said. I tried. But we still fought. One day, when I was twelve, my father took me for a ride. He took me to Douglas High School on the other side of the city. Do you know where that is?”
“Yes. It’s three blocks from my home.”
“He pulled into the parking lot and told me to get out. He said he and his wife didn’t want me living with them anymore. I begged him to take me home, but he wouldn’t. When I finally got out, he drove off. It was summer. I had nothing but the clothes on my back. No money. No way to buy food – no way to buy anything I needed. I didn’t know where to go or what to do. I thought maybe he was just trying to scare me, and when he calmed down, he’d come back. So, I stayed in the park across the street and slept on a bench for three nights, waiting for him. He never came back. I was terrified.”
“I walk my dog in that park every night,” I said, searching my memory, trying to recall if I had seen him there – not that it mattered now. The truth is, there were always kids in that park, playing hoops or just sitting in the grass, talking. Had I seen him, I would have thought he was just another kid hanging out in the park. I felt awful for him.
Then I got mad. “How could a father throw away his own son like that?” I thought. “It’s unconscionable.” The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. For five years, Joseph lived on the streets – abandoned not only by his father but by his entire family, as well. He ate out of trash cans and slept wherever he could find a safe place to hide – never sleeping in the same place twice. He had to keep moving.
“Joseph, why didn’t you get help?”
“I didn’t know where to get help,” he said. “A couple of times the police were called. But I was so afraid of getting arrested, I ran. When we had those big snowstorms, I slept on my friend’s sofa. But his parents only let me stay overnight.”
“They didn’t try to help you?”
“They didn’t know how.”
“You mean they didn’t want to get involved.”
“Maybe. But eventually, I got used to living on the streets. The first winter was the worst, though. I didn’t have a warm coat. On really cold nights I huddled in the entrance of an open building downtown so I wouldn’t freeze to death.”
“How did you survive on the streets for so long?”
“God,” he said with conviction. “I prayed for help every night. And I had faith he would keep me safe until I graduated and could find a job.”
Joseph became quiet, and I began thinking about his faith, comparing it to my own. While it was strong, I doubted whether it would have lasted as long as his – living without shelter, going days without food, and being consumed by fear.
“I can’t believe you managed to stay in school through all of that,” I said. “But I’m glad you did.”
“I knew getting a good education was the only way to get off the streets. It was the key to my survival. That and forgiveness.”
“Why forgiveness?”
“I hated my father. But I realized, as long as I hated him, I was no better than him. I didn’t want to be anything like him. I wanted to be a better father to my kids than he was to me. That was the day I decided to forgive him. I stopped being so angry at him and started focusing on my goal. I wanted to have a good life.”
I looked around the room and saw firsthand what his faith and commitment to forgive his father had done for him. “You’re an extraordinary young man, Joseph. I’m not so sure, given the same set of circumstances, I could be as forgiving as you. But I can’t deny the miracle that has resulted from it.”
Shortly before the end of his senior year, a teacher learned of his homelessness and contacted social services. Joseph was almost eighteen then. Too late, really, for them to do anything. But that didn’t stop them.
They got him off the streets and gave him a jump start to a better life. They gave him the apartment and paid his living expenses. He was enrolled at a community college. And when he graduated, he would start his new job at Child Protective Services. And because he was doing so well, they sent him to Washington to attend a special event with the vice president.
Joseph passed his courses with flying colors. My work was done. On our last day together, he said with pride, “I’m going to my family reunion. It’ll be the first time I’ve seen anyone on my father’s side of the family since becoming homeless.”
by Lorrie Lush