The 410 and one of the many reasons I do what I do.

     On the corner of 4th and 10th in Minneapolis stands a garden. I posted 4 pictures of it the other day, well 3 pictures of the garden and one of what seems to be the only remnant of  the 410 left. What is the 410 you may ask. It was a homeless shelter for women and children in at one time was noted as the worst part of  Minneapolis back when it was first called 'murderapolis'. It was the place that I at one time, called home.
    It was once a large brick building that had old lettering on the side like the old Greyhound staions, except in large blue and white letters that spelled out 'Hotel' on the corner that faced the intersection of 4th and 10th. It sat next to the Sir Francis Drake, which was a homeless shelter for men. I being a teenager went to the 410. I remember going to a place called 'Profect Offstreets' which used to be over by the art gardminutesens right off of Lyndale. I met with a counselor who doubled as my 'advocate'. I only met him once, and his most supportive words to me were, 'either get tough or die kid'. After that it was off to the 410, making my way down Hennepin Avenue to find my way 'home'. My first 10 minutes there I witnessed an assault where a man cut a woman's face from temple to jaw with a bottle, and as I quickly escaped to the 'safety' of the elevator, I had a guy put a gun to my face, and tell me that the color shirt I was wearing was not welcome in the building, so if I ever wore it again around there, he'd blow my head off. I got to my room with my duffle bag and met my roommate who told me, 'Welcome to Hell'. I was pretty much shell shocked from my first 10 minutes. I learned the ropes quickly, what to do and what not to do. What would get you killed, and how you could survive. I witnessed so many acts of violence at such a horrific level that I truly believed that I was in Hell.
    The hardest thing for anoyone homeless, is that people stop seeing you, we've all done it, pretending not to see the person at the intersection, averting our eyes, or any other excuse that we have to not have to look upon people's misfortune. I had gotten to the point where I felt I no longer mattered, I no longer existed, I was a ghost in life, just passing through, not being seen, not being heard, except by those who were also caught in the strange cynical universe of homelessness and facelessness. It got to a point where I had had enough. I was done. I decided that I would live one more day, a really good day for once, and then leap from my room to my death so many feet below.
    I remember waking up happy, I was going to be leaving this cruel world, I was going to be 'free', my life didn't matter anyways, so I would just be out of pain and that would be that. I got dressed, and proceeded to take the elevator down to the street level and head out the doors to face my final day. It was a sunny day, and I had walked out the door just in time to catch a glimpse of the procession of the school busses. They would come by every morning, bus after bus, I would watch them drive by and then start making my rounds. This day I found myself staring longingly at them. I was never 'excited' to get on a school bus, but at this moment, I had never wanted to be on a school bus more in  my life.
    I watched as bus after bus passed by staring at all of the faces of the kids as they stared out into nothingness, they wanting to be off of the bus just as much as I wanted to be on it. That's when it happened. I couldn't tell you what school it was for, what numbers were on the side, or even what number it was from the end, maybe 3rd or 4th from the end. There she was. A black girl, about the same age as me, she had braids in her hair and a yellow shirt on. As I noticed her, she smiled at me and waved. I simple random act of kindness, and that was all that it took, I decided that life was worth living. The sidenote to the pictures, that slab of busted concrete, was below my window. That's approximately where my body would have impacted when I had lept to my doom. I remember staring at it from so many stories above.
     I stood at that site the other day with one of my brothers from along the way and sobbed, it was the first time I had set foot anywhere near that property in over 20 years. I had dodged it for that long. I thought it was beautiful that where once so much pain stood, that now a garden to help support the food shelves stands.
    One more note. The little girl with the braids, will probably never know that her second of reflecting Christ's love saved my life and that every second of my being after that is because of that moment, so in that, never underestimate what happens in a day. Something that may seem insignificant to you, a common courtesy, just the right thing to do, may affect someone's life in such a profound way, and not only be a 'warm fuzzy', it just may save a life. I love each and every one of you and God does too. LLLAKYFOTPA XD