Between Two Hearts

About a month ago, I shared a little bit about my work with homeless people at a retreat in Mauterndorf, Austria. I reflected on how they share their pain with me, how they bring their bitterness into my office... but above all, how my colleagues and I try to put a smile back on their faces, to give them a little break from their tears, to give them strength and confidence for the future.

After offering my reflection, one of the participants came up to me. I don't know if he would want me to mention his name, so I'd rather leave it at that.

“I have a sleeping bag," he offered. "Would it be helpful if I gave it to you? It's fine for me to do without it for the days here.” I gratefully accepted the sleeping bag and took it to our emergency shelter in Vienna.

People who are living on the streets and have nowhere else to go can come there.

They come to warm up, to eat, to shower, to seek shelter from the violence of the streets, or to work with me to improve their lives.

Unfortunately, our beds are often full. When someone knocks on the door at night and we don't have a free bed, we try to organize a bed somewhere else. If that doesn't work, we at least give them a sleeping bag so they don't freeze outside that much.

In addition, there are also people who are so sick, for example, that they cannot accept emergency accommodation — they feel persecuted, they see images that we do not see, or they say, “People have hurt me so many times, I'd rather lie down in the dark forest than be in a room with people.” And then they really do that. As social workers we visit them in the woods and ask them if they need something.

I delivered the sleeping bag for all these souls.

A few nights later, the time had come. Our emergency shelter was full again, and after midnight, the doorbell rang. A woman asked if there was still a free bed. She was scantily clad, and it was already quite cold at night. We know this woman; she has been on the streets for many, many years. We asked her to wait so we could make some phone calls to find a place for her.

Unfortunately, this woman is mentally ill. Sometimes it is not possible to have a long conversation with her, sometimes it does work. On that particular night, it was almost impossible to talk to her calmly. She was about to turn around and walk off into the night, but we had one more magic word: “Wait a minute, would you like a SLEEPING BAG?” She stopped: “Oh please, please!”

Days later, I met her again. She was having a very good day, by which I mean we were able to have a good conversation. I asked her about that night and she raved about how much the sleeping bag had helped her. I told her the story of the sleeping bag, how it came from a gathering in the little village of Mauterndorf to our community in Vienna.

I told her: "This man came to me. I think, it's important to him that you don't freeze! I really think, it's important to him that you're warm! . . . Yeah, you are right. He doesn`t know you! . . . This man doesn't know you, but I think you are important to him! You know, I believe that we are all connected, and maybe this man thinks so too. And if we are all connected... maybe he knows you after all? Maybe you know him? Maybe we all know each other. Look, I don't know what your favorite food is, but I can imagine you have one! I can imagine there's a dish where you say, “Oooh yes yes yes, I'm looking forward to that,” and when you take the first spoonful, you say, “Mmm, that's good!”

She said, “Yes, yes, yes: spaghetti!” 

And I replied, “See, I like to eat chocolate dumplings. Ooooh!”

We both placed our hands on our stomachs and made the sound “Oooooh! Mmmm, that's goooood.” Then we laughed and I said, "See! This story isn't about what's on the plate, it's about our two faces! Look, we have the same face. I think this man also has a food that he likes sooo much. And maybe he's really happy to have given you his sleeping bag."

She said, “Yes, the way you describe him, I think he'll be happy.”

I replied: “Well, look, then the three of us know each other after all!”

We laughed out loud.

She smiled with the sparkling eyes of a little girl. She asked me to tell you about it and to say thank you.

This man from that retreat didn't know when this sleeping bag would be given out. He didn't know who this sleeping bag would be given to. He doesn't know this woman, he doesn't know her story  — and YET his heart spoke: “You are important!”

I bow my head in respect for this moment, in which I was allowed to witness what happened between these two people.

Hundreds of kilometers between these two people, but at the same time, as we learned: the shortest distance is between two hearts!