Tables turn

Greg was sharing a bit of his story with a newcomers in our group therapy. "You know, it's rough out here on these streets. If you haven't been on the homeless trail - sleeping in the rain and the snow, carrying everything you own on your back, walking everywhere - if you haven't been on it, you don't know how hard it is." Another group member chimed in "It's a motherfucking job." Greg continued with a nod in his direction, "But you know, I was watching channel 9 the other night (the local public broadcast station) and you know, we are so lucky to be in America. People in other countries, third world countries, don't even have places like this agency, have electricity, have cell phones...cars...school... We are so lucky." Other group members were nodding their heads in agreement.

Greg is a two and a half-year sober illiterate crack addict living in a drug-ridden slum. He carries a picture in his wallet of himself in his using days - skinny, scabs on his face - and he tells us, weekly, about his abusive partner and his frustrated attempts to get away from her without raising the attention of the police and jeopardizing his parole.

He has a large heart, and can easily empathize with people in terrible circumstances. His own life could be worse, and he knows that. After all he's lived through, survived, he knows it could be worse. I thought about how many people couldn't imagine living in conditions like his, myself included, and count ourselves blessed not to be in his shoes.

Interesting how the tables turn.