Sunday Reflection: What We Carry

A man with six bags, a rolled up sleeping bag, and a walk that helped me see: ourselves in another

This is the second time I’ve seen this man.

Black—very black. Burly, with thick fro’d hair wrinkled from where he might have slept last night.

This time, he’s wearing a surgical blue mask, walking steadily, even purposefully.

Somehow, he’s figured out the balance it takes to walk with six overstuffed Target bags—three in each hand—ballooning out with his things.

But what stood out most, both the first time and again today, was the sleeping bag he carries. It’s meticulously rolled, with one arm shoved through the center like a soldier shouldering a weapon. It’s efficient. Deliberate.

I can’t help but think, in the few minutes I’ve seen him now twice:

Why?

Where is he going?

There’s a sharpness to him—clear and visible—but obscured by something else, something stealing what could be.

God once asked Adam, “Where are you?” after he’d eaten the forbidden fruit.

Of course, God already knew where Adam was.

He wasn’t asking about location—He was asking about condition.

Bikram says:

“Having means nothing unless you know how to use it.”

I caught myself thinking: He could get help. Go to a shelter. Wash up. Start therapy. Start fresh.

And then—how shallow of me.

The mind is capable of possibilities too vast to comprehend…

And yet, it can also fall into depths so dark that we become dumb, numb, and blind to the truth of who we really are.

This man—his presence, his spirit, his mental faculties—were visible even to me, a total stranger.

But what does it matter if he doesn’t know it?

If he doesn’t know how to use it?

Where are you?

Because what I came to see is this:

My attention on this precious homeless man… wasn’t that far off from the “homeless” men and women I see all the time.

And if I’m honest—sometimes I see it in me, too.

His outward clinging to those bags—so tightly committed to carrying what’s his—is no different than the way we cling to the things we carry.

Maybe not as visible.

But just as heavy.

He can’t just drop the bags.

And most of us can’t just drop our baggage.

I once heard someone say:

“We spend the first half of life filling our black bag…

and the second half unloading it, one item at a time.”

This man had direction.

He was going somewhere.

Even in the discomfort, even under the weight, he moved with intention.

And like him, we often make things harder on ourselves than they have to be.

We do what’s not in our best interest—like wearing a mask in 80-degree heat.

Still we do it anyway.

Impossible to walk in this.

Now, impossible to breathe.

I’m a coffee shop gal. I watch people. I love people.

I own a business, but I know that no matter what I’m selling—I’m in the people business.

And what I’ve seen again and again is this:

We really are all the same.

“Yoga can make your mind your best friend.”

“Be anxious for nothing, but in everything, through prayer and petition with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds…”

“The only way out is through.”

In our world, this man’s “value” would be negligible.

But today, he became the mirror—reflecting you, and me, and all of us.

Not through culture’s lens.

But through God’s.

“I will give you eyes that see and ears that hear.”

Today, I saw him.

And it helped me see people more clearly.

It helped me see me more clearly.

Illustration by my Godson, Walter Woodcock, young aspiring artist age 7!