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My letter to Minodora, SDF in Sibiu (Romania)

Yesterday, I parked my bus at the foot of a church in Sibiu (Romania). At sunrise, opening my curtains, I saw you, sleeping rough on a bench, curled up and in the greatest destitution. There you were, no doubt cold. My heart bled for you and I was deeply touched by your appearance. And then all sorts of questions came into my mind: “Should I intervene? How do I comfort you without shaking your precarious balance? You seem like a wounded sparrow asleep that I do not want to scare away, even with a caress … I spent enough years in the humanitarian to know how much help can sometimes hurt the very people we come to relieve. Giving ourselves a good conscience should never prevail over the free will and the autonomy of those who are in need.

From my window, I look at you with tenderness while consulting my inner compass. I would like to help you without saving you. I would like to bring you a little joy without invading you, to send back your light without taking the little energy you have left. Give you hope without creating expectations. Show you your beauty without forcing you to love yourself.

A few minutes later, I decide to give the advantage to the present moment and to my heart. You are here in front of me. And I can not pretend I did not see you. So I wait for you to wake up. Then I bring you some hot coffee and a sugar bun. Thanks to a few words of Italian, we manage to communicate a little. I do not ask you anything about your past. It does not matter. There is nothing to know, nothing to comment on, nothing to judge. Always in the respect of your free will, I ask you if you agree to share a good meal later aboard Begoodee. “If you want,” you say to me. I answer you that it’s more what “you want”. Finally, you accept my offfer by shrugging your shoulders. You are exhausted. I see how making a decision costs you energy.

At noon, I prepare you grilled sausages and hash browns that you eat without great appetite. You tell me that you have a stomach ache and that you are in poor health. You mainly eat bread that you buy with the few coins that passers-by leave you. Because you do not beg. Your precarious situation has not stolen anything from your dignity. You tell me that you have been in the street for over a year, after your money and ID had been stolen. You tell me that “the world is mean”. I answer you that there is also a lot of goodness out there and that we must leave the past to the past; that salvation begins in our head, and rather change the nature of our thoughts. I try to explain to you that life constantly gives us the choice of giving up or of picking up the pieces. I also tell you that you are beautiful. You tell me that you do not believe that and that life in the street has withered you.

I offer you a little lucky charm bracelet with this inscription drawn at random: “Live the present moment, afterwards you will understand”. I also give you a pair of jeans, a sweater for the winter, a pair of shoes and especially a small solar lamp to brighten your nights and to give you some hope. You tell me that it takes up too much space in your bag and that it will be heavy to carry. You’re right, sorry! I had forgotten that, like the snail, you carry your house with you, two little bags and an umbrella. So I dig deep into my supply of lamps and find a smaller one, the size of a jam jar. It was made by someone who slipped a word inside: “If you fall, pick yourself up! “. It was destined for you, that one! You manage to crack a shy smile. You remain sceptical but accept il.

With your agreement, we manage to get an appointment in the early evening with the president of an association for the assistance of women in distress. In the meantime, you sleep all afternoon aboard Begoodee. But the President never came … She explained to me by phone that, after consulting her lawyer, she can not do anything for you. Her association deals only with young girls in difficulty. At 50 years of age, you do not fit in their criteria anymore. She also says that you have to report to the police to make a theft declaration. What you said you had done that a long time ago, to no avail. I suggest you go back there with me. The police station opens at 8h the next day. You answer me, always and again: “If you want. I think it is useless. ”

Then I repeat to you gently, dear Minodora, it is you who must decide for your life. It is you who must want to give yourself a new chance. I’m trying to explain to you that it’s not too late, that you can still find work. Personally, I still see in you some incandescent embers that are just waiting to be revived. But you tell me that your fire is completely extinguished.

While waiting to go to the police station, I invite you to spend a night in the comfort and safety aboard Begoodee. You put away your modest belongings with slow, very slow gestures. You are nothing but skin and bones. You make yourself small so as not to disturb, you tell me. You make me understand that “even taking a shower costs you too much energy” but you manage to wash yourself and you even made my mini bathroom cleaner than it was before! You put on your clothes as tattered and tired as you are and you collapse onto the soft sheep skins of my seat.

While you sleep, I see a police patrol from the window. I leave the bus without making a sound and I go to meet them. I ask them where the nearest police station is to help a woman renew her ID. I also ask them what can I do for you? The police look at me, surprised and truly suspicious. They tell me that there is nothing to do, that there are hundreds of thousands of people like you in Romania. Nevertheless they give me the address of a police station nearby. I enter my bus with sadness. Then I watch you sleep …

I think I guess why you got to this point. And why you have so much trouble trying to get out of your situation? You feel shabby and helpless. You have already lost hope. Your health is failing and you’re totally resigned. You have lost your friends, and your family. I even offered to take you to the hospital but you replied that “it is useless”. I invited you to take back your power, not to let others decide for you. Once again, I bowed to your free will. How difficult it is for me to accept that a human being can turn away from their light … To reflect the beauty and value of a person is the commitment of my whole life …

When you wake up, Lovski comes to lick your feet! We have another breakfast together. Without much conviction or motivation, you accept that I accompany you to the police. They explain to you what they need to redo your documents. You said you will come back. But I feel that you won’t set foot there again …

I gave you my business card with my details just in case you wanted to contact me one day. Before hitting the road, I held you tightly against me, very moved. You remained neutral and silent. I do not know if our encounter will have changed anything in your life but whatever happens, it will have enriched mine.

I wonder if we should not grasp every opportunity we encounter on our way as an opportunity to love. Not as an opportunity to change people and their destiny but simply to love them and their destiny, without trying to change a thing. Especially when they don’t ask for it! This is the difference between “wanting to save the world” and “embrace people as they are “, welcoming thier shadows and lights with equanimity. The first energy is generated from a place of injury or revolt; the second is rooted in trust and acceptance. Personally, it is with exactly that energy that I would like to feed the world.

Perhaps joy is hidden at this level of consciousness. Where there is nothing to understand, nothing to change but to compassionately welcome “what exists”. Then we can reach out where we are asked to serve. It is perhaps with this selfless and pure love that we truly transform our reality and everyone else’s. I don’t know, Minodora … I ‘m just gathering my thoughts while writing these words …

I also realize that solidarity has its limits, that one can NOT and that one must NOT do anything against the free will of people. You can not help someone who does not truly and deeply want to be helped. You did not ask me to help you, Minodora. I know, I know, you do not even have the energy to desire anything for yourself anymore … I hope with all my heart that I could give you some of mine, like a fresh and sparkling transfusion.

Dear Minodora, may the light of your little solar lamp and the “greater light” protect you, enlighten you and accompany you wherever you are, you and all the homeless of our planet.

Isabelle

*Thank you for your trust, thank you for allowing me to publish these photos of you …

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