a glimpse of humanity.

At times I am brutally aware that my opinions of others are filtered through stereotypes, expectations, personal assumptions, etc. The white, middle class, educated, female, Mennonite lens I bring to a situation colors my glimpses of humanity - and not always for the best.

I meet lots of interesting people every day. From my colleagues, to people on the bus, to the neighbor who greeted me on his way home from work, etc. However, some of the most interesting people I meet are my clients. People with life experiences I cannot even imagine, but who are just as human, just as real as you and me.

The man who spoke on Monday evening about living through the struggle of life: a man who spent 31 years in prison and is rebuilding his life at 64; a man with the most wonderful smile; a man who spent 7 years on dialysis before getting a new kidney; a man who captivated the workshop participants with his laughter, his honesty, and even his tears; a good man.

The couple that was in my office today: a woman trying to look out for her disabled sister and cognitively challenged fiance; a man who struggles to speak, but wouldn't stop cracking jokes; a couple living at a shelter because that's better than being out in the cold; two people forever plagued by criminal records - consequences for actions they took when they lived a different life.

And though I try to see my clients as complex individuals, sometimes I forget to glimpse the humanity in the people who visit my office every day. Sometimes a word, a phrase, a character quirk, a glance gets in the way of my attempt to see each client as a person with potential, as humanity reflecting the divine. Sometimes I forget.

Today two words popped out at me. Two words written on a paper intake application that I glanced at hours after my client had joked with me while filling paper work. Even after I had built a reputation with the client, interacted with him as a real person, and honestly enjoyed my time with him, these two words - his conviction - colored our entire interaction. As I sat in my office deconstructing the stereotypes I didn't know I still had and reminding myself of the faith I have in transformation, of the work I have chosen with people who have done harm to others, and of the gentleness in the man's spirit and the respect he showed me in my office a few hours early, I sympathized with the employers and politicians who legally (and illegally) discriminate against people with records every day.

It is so easy to judge people based on one glimpse of who they are or who we think they might have been. Too easy to define people by the convictions handed to them in court - even if they were earned 20 years ago. What does it take to search for in each person, regardless of their past or their criminal record, a glimpse of humanity? And thus a reflection of the divine?