The dull murmur of people talking on the telephones nearby interrupted my thoughts as I stared out at multitude of tables of people eating their breakfast. Sheltered, for now,  from the rain that battered the church. Instead of engaging in conversation with people in the room I sat in the corner alone. It came out of a fear of rejection, I suppose. That fear that if you walk up to someone to talk they will reject you based on your looks, walk of life, or where you’ve grown up. Perhaps that’s why I struggle whenever I work with the homeless and attempt to have a real conversation. I feel the void between my journey and theirs.

And it was this sense of rejection that had me sitting in a corner in a church that served breakfast to the homeless in downtown St. Louis. I had traveled there leading a team of students and an advisor to serve for a week through a program called Mission Possible. I choose this particular trip because I knew it would challenge me, but how would I grow if I as the leader just sat in the corner trying to figure out what to say? Suddenly the man nearest me hung up the phone turned to me and said “you look like a sweet girl I’m leaving for Virginia on Monday want to come with me and get married”.

That’s how my conversation with Bernard started. Bernard was 43 and had lived in St. Louis all his life. His parents died when he was a teenager and he was on the streets at the age of 17. He had been to prison three times for dealing drugs, but was now clean and no longer selling he was as he said “on the straight and narrow”. He was thoughtful as he spoke and took great care in what he said and despite his worn boots, holey jeans and generally rough look he was kind and caring. He had goals just like I did. Bernard felt stuck in St. Louis he had a bad past there that he couldn’t seem to shake. So he was leaving to live in Virginia, he had a cousin  who he was going to stay there and he had signed up for classes at a local community college. He wanted to be a counselor and help troubled youth, because he knew what they were going through.  Pausing in his story he looked at me and said “thank you”. “For what” I answered “you listen not everyone does, you look at me like I’m a person and you care what I am saying. Some times people wont tell you but listening is important. And you have kindness in your eyes you care about people”.

Bernard knew everything there was to know about St. Louis and later on in the conversation offered to show me where the famous Rapper Nelly lives and where to go if I was ever homeless in St. Louis and the best places to get care.  He wanted to come to Gonzaga and tell the President that the students who go to Gonzaga were some of the most compassionate people he had met, they listened when others didn’t.

As I left that morning Bernard and I prayed for each other, for strength and discernment for what God wanted in our lives. As graduation comes closer I have been thinking about Bernard a lot, thinking about how often in my life I only look towards things I know or are comfortable. Bernard and I come from very different walks of life, but we departed in St. Louis as friends.  Bernard is a person I will keep in my prayers someone who reminded me of the power of listening and looking beyond what I know.

Maybe someday you’ll meet Bernard.  He will be the man in the office who helps troubled youth, he will be easy to talk to, with eyes that hold kindness and laughter. And if you take the time to listen he will tell you about where he came from and where he’s going. And maybe he will tell you about his vacation he’s taking in a few weeks to a new place called Washington State, a place that he has never been before. And then he will look at you and ask what’s your story, and you will begin to tell him and two very different people from different walks of life will once again begin to listen and learn from each other.

Megan Edmonds, senior, Mission: Possible coordinator for two years