Then the Lord called Samuel. Samuel answered, “Here I am.” 1 Samuel 3:4
I’d been working non-stop for eight days. The first week of September in any student accommodation is widely known as an absolute nightmare. I was dealing with ten storys, five kitchens on every floor, each one full to the brim with rubbish.
Anybody who has ever visited student halls already knows what I’m talking about. Those who haven’t are missing out on cupboards full of rotten food and maggots crawling out of swing-lid trash cans.
Each trip to the refuse area filled my nose with the sour stench of months-old ramen noodles. My clothes gradually became a mouillette of garbage and artificial flavoring.
Being in the city centre, our bins are an all-you-can-eat buffet of broken electricals and hand-me-down clothes for the homeless. For the most part, I’m happy to turn a blind eye to any rummaging; I’m not going to miss the stuff.
During check-in week the bins overflowed and the local rummagers were out in force. Instead of the usual careful searching, a new lady had begun throwing things all over the floor as she dug for gold; a mess that I had to clean up every time. Each time I saw her out of one of the hundreds of windows, my blood boiled, and eventually I caught her in the act.
I scolded the old woman. Dressed her down, good and proper. She didn’t speak a word of English other than, “Hello Mama, I am Elena,” so the words had little effect. But she could see how angry I was, and I could see she couldn’t understand why I was so bent out of shape.
When check-in ended and the pickings grew slim, I finally gave the woman the time of day but I was glad to see the back of her when the rubbish died down.
Pleased that these people were no longer a nuisance, I carried on with work as usual, head held high, making sure no vagrants went through our bins on my watch. I couldn’t be having that now could I?
Winter set in.
Riding my push-bike to work, I regretted not picking up a pair of gloves. Each time I touched the steel brake lever, the sharp stab of icy metal made me wince. It was a proper English morning.
I locked my bike by the refuse area; it’s usually safe inside the bin storage. As I walked round to the building, blowing warm air into my cupped hands, I noticed a pair of shoes sticking out from behind the bins.
It wasn’t unusual to see someone sleeping outdoors in the city centre; you see it in every town across the country. I continued on. As long as he wasn’t throwing rubbish on the floor, I could get over him being an inconvenience.
I’ve been craving a connection with God for most of my life. I’ve been too sceptical to accept Him, because every time I asked for help I never saw Him. But what happened next made me realise that God calls on us, not the other way around.
I was drawn to ask this person if they were okay. I felt them pulling me from their position.
CCTV footage would later show that at least fifty people had walked past that poor, deceased man since he’d sat down, alone and cold in the night. I called an ambulance and covered him from view while I waited for the paramedics to arrive.
I still don’t know why I felt I should stop that morning. But I believe God gave me the ability to feel His will. I’ll be sure to make Elaina a cup of tea every time I see her now.
