Eleanor...
She came into my life like a hurricane. Her anger and her addictions left a path of misery and destruction in her wake. How many times did she beg for money to care for her son, only to spend that money feeding the ravenous demon of addiction that rode her back and slowly squeezed the life and spirit from her eyes?
Over the course of the years, lies became her truth, and bushes and doorways became her home. To meet her in a shopping center parking lot was to cringe in the temptation of judgment, for she was not only panhandling, but also constantly reinventing the story that was the lie of her need, and using her small son to garner sympathy.
Again and again the door would open and she would enter, challenging anyone and moving everyone out of her way. Coffee to warm the emptiness, a sandwich to chase the hunger... and then back to the street, to the alley, to curse, to fight, to use, and finally to hate, to hate herself, and to hate everyone in her brokenness and overwhelming need to bury her heart.
Again and again the door would open and she would enter in obvious misery, expecting, even demanding a final rejection. But that rejection never came. Somehow, the Peace Prayer of St. Francis was taking root in us as well as in her. She asked if she could volunteer...
Again and again the door would open and she would enter. Smiles began to transform her face, laughter began to fill the hours where before only anguish could surface. Friendship built a bridge of trust. Stories of pain were shared -- she was raped as a child, raped, beaten and abused time and time again... she believed that she was not worthy of anything good or beautiful or kind... and yet, and yet... daily hugs, words of encouragement and affirmation, the slow work of redemption by honoring her sacred human dignity, watching the steady growth of self-esteem, calling her to prayer and to the small, still voice of the Holy One, reminding her that all things are possible... Together, we entered the dwelling place of mercy...
When she was dying of cancer in a county hospital room, I visited her, intent upon asking a very important question. "What have you learned from life"? Even though she could scarcely breathe, and her voice was but a shallow whisper, with no hesitation whatsoever, she answered, "To love everyone". In both her anguish and her laughter, she revealed the Face of the Holy One to me as always forgiving, merciful, tender, and loving. Eleanor was one of the great loves of my life. It was my extraordinary privilege to know her.
Oh, and one more thing: her son grew up to have a family of his own. He sometimes volunteers in the Kitchen and brings by donations when he can...
Based on a True Story
-- Robert Daniel Smith
Be foolishly in love, because love is all there is. -- Rumi
