And another small joy I forgot to mention about Easter -- my homeless Navajo friend Walter was in church yesterday, along with another friend of his from the shelter...it had been several weeks since I'd seen him, and I was actually starting to get a little worried about him I'm not really sure if I can accurately describe how or why Walter and I became friends. He pretty much started out like anyone else who might wander in off the street to get warm and have a little free coffee and food on a Sunday morning, or to touch me for twenty bucks for food or a bus ticket or whatever. But for some reason we connected; he started coming to church more and more often, sitting off in the back corner but eventually making a few other friends at church as well.
When I got sick myself I'm told he disappeared for awhile, but he was back again this last autumn, selling these Navajo "Dreamcatchers" to tourists on the street in order to make a little money, and occasionally even putting a little of it in the plate. Then HE got sick, and spent six weeks up at Maine Med -- got himself detoxed, and linked up with a caseworker, and the next thing you know he's been admitted to college to study art and (of course) nervous as hell about it, although he understands what a great opportunity it is for him. Anyway, next task is to take him out shopping for school clothes, which I know will be a big adventure too, since right now pretty much all he wears is all-weather camo, which is what he got used to in the military.
I suspect Walter appreciates me because I befriended him at church (just as I would attempt to any other repeat visitor), and went to visit him at the hospital when he was there, even though (as he knows) I was/am seriously ill myself. I like Walter for a lot of reasons, mostly because of his personality and his attitude: his optimism, his resilience, his ingenuity, patience and tenacity. Qualities maybe he doesn't even see in himself, but which I see and believe in. He reminds me a lot of Steve the Sailor in that way, whose spirit still inspires me now months after his death. I enjoy it when Walter brings me a little gift, or prays for me in the Navajo language, which I find strangely inspiring and invigorating. And I really want this college opportunity to work out for him. Which is my prayer. In plain English.
In any event, a few weeks ago Walter dropped off a couple of dreamcatchers for me at the office. Last night I finally opened one up, and hung it over the head of my bed. And guess what? No bad dreams! So maybe there's something to all this after all....
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