Somebody's Baby

There’s a song by Jon Foreman called “Somebody’s Baby” that has been on my mind a lot the last few days. Here are the lyrics…

She yells, “If you were homeless, sure as hell you'd be drunk

Or high or trying to get there,

Or begging for junk—

When people don't want you, they just throw you money for beer.”

Her name is November, 


She went by Autumn or Fall.


It was seven long years since the Autumn


when all of her nightmares grew fingers
and all of her dreams grew tears.

Chorus:
She's somebody's baby,

Somebody's baby girl. (x2)

And she's Somebody's baby still.

She screams, “Well, if you've never gone it alone;


Well, then go ahead—you better throw the first stone.

You got one lonely stoner waiting to bring to her knees.”

She dreams about heaven,

Remembering Hell,
as the nightmare she visits

And knows all to well—every now and again 
when she's sober,

She brushes her teeth



(Chorus)



Today was her birthday, strangely enough,

When the cops found her body at the foot of the bluff.

The anonymous caller this morning tipped off the police.

They got her ID from her dental remains—

The same fillings intact, the same nicotine stains.

The birth and the death were both over,

With no one to grieve.

(Chorus)

Yesterday, I went into Budapest with a few of my friends from the castle, and that song was stuck in my head all day. At the beginning of the day, I found myself saying aloud, “It would really be awful to be homeless here, because it’s so cold.” Later yesterday night, we were walking to the Metro station, and we walked down this street with a lot of abandoned storefronts. The sidewalk and the storefronts were shielded by an arch that kept out the cold and the snow a little bit. As we walked, I was heartbroken to see many men and women cuddled up in the abandoned store fronts under piles of blankets, trying to sleep and stay warm. This song echoed even louder in my mind as I struggled to maintain control of my emotions. One woman caught my attention, as she looked at me as I passed. I found myself muttering to myself, “She’s somebody’s baby girl—and she’s God’s baby still.” As I walked by, I smiled at her and wondered if there was something I could do to help. I didn’t want to just give her money—I wanted her to feel loved and be met in her very evident need of warmth. But, for the moment, I just continued to walk.

When we got to the metro, we dropped the boys off, and my friend Lyssandra and I sat down in a coffee shop and started to chat. As we were talking, I had the desire to just read the Word and pray, so we did. As we were praying (by this point, we had left the coffee shop and were walking back to the walking street to get dinner), Lyssandra prayed, “Lord, if there is anything we can do to help the homeless people, just lay it on our hearts right now.” At that moment, the Holy Spirit reminded me that I had thrown an extra beanie in my bag that morning for no apparent reason—I just felt like I should take it, just in case. As we passed by the same street where these men and women were sleeping, I saw her again, and went right up to her, beanie in hand. I smiled, forgetting at the moment how to say “Jesus loves you” in Hungarian (I think it’s something like “Jezus szeretlek teged”… I should figure that out), and handed her the beanie.

Later, after dinner, as Lyssandra and I were walking back to the metro to meet the guys, we passed by the woman, and I was heartbroken and blessed to see her beautiful face, with bright eyes, peaking out from beneath the hat I’d given her. She waved to me with a grin on her face.

She’s somebody’s baby girl, and she’s Somebody’s baby still.