Such an Endless Longing for Friendship

This is the inscription on the gay monument here in Amsterdam.
It's so heartbreakingly true.
Damen was here for 3 days. On the first, he came into the cafe. "Does anyone know a restaurant that serves authentic Dutch food?" he said in a distinctly French accent. Hmm. That's actually really difficult to find in Amsterdam! He came back later to the cafe and ordered dutch pea soup from a can, and the typical Dutch snack- thin waffles with syrup in between- even though he said he didn't like waffles.
In the evening at the cafe, he was sitting alone, drawing in a small sketchbook. I asked him if I could see his drawings and he said yes, with a sheepish smile. "They're a little strange," he said. In his drawings, I could see some of Damen's heart. They were all amateur drawings in colored pen- many of them people, most of the people men. They were mostly suggestive- short shorts, colored pictures with a key that had words for each like masturbation, beauty, fashion. He watched my face as I looked at them. I tried to thumb through quietly, agreeing with him in a smile, that yes, it is different- in my heart, sorrowed to see this man's longings for love simply in his artwork.
He had come here to visit the office of a famous gay magazine here in the city. "They show real people," he said in praise of it, "not princesses." That is his dream- to draw and do work with this magazine. We talked for a while- about art and the city. I gave him the address of a really beautiful art cafe which excited him. We talked about dreams and thinking outside of the box. I told him about my dream to go and show people love in Tibet. He told me about his desire to really experience the city- the underground- and how he had met this great guy who had taken him back after an evening out to his flat. He raved about the man and about the flat, and after I got up from the table as the movie in the cafe began, he was sending messages back and forth on his phone, reading the green glow with a smile.
My heart aches for Damen. There is such fear and fearlessness in his eyes. He is so set, and yet, so hungry and vulnerable. On the day after we talked, I was overwhelmed with compassion for him. Such an endless longing for friendship... I prayed that I would see him again before he left.
And I did! He walked in as I was passing through the hallway to the kitchen. "Hey Damen! How was your day?" He made a polite smile but didn't hide well. "It was OK," he said, but I knew it hadn't been. I asked him if he would be in the cafe for dinner, but he had already eaten. He did come in though, he brought a book for me to borrow that he had mentioned when we talked. I was excited he remembered me with that. We planned that I could leave it at the desk for him afterwards. "Are you going out tonight?" I asked. "Oh, yeah," he said, "I will go out to a bar and maybe I will meet someone." I could see that his friend wouldn't be meeting him there. Perhaps his visit to the magazine had not gone well either. He was hurting, longing again.
Later that night I read through Damen's book and wrote him a note to stick in it. "Never will I leave you nor forsake you." These are words the Lord has spoken to me here in this place; words for my loneliness. I wished Damen the best and shared those words with him, wondering on paper to him if maybe they would mean something to him as well- that God wanted to be there for him. He came back into the cafe just as I was finishing it. "I wrote you a note," I said, and he smiled and said, "Maybe I'll read it tomorrow"- he had had a few cocktails he confessed with another sheepish grin. We laughed and said goodnight.
Jesus, oh, Jesus, give love to these who are unloved- lost in the shuffle of this city, or other cities- tossed around by promises unfulfilled, eating but still hungry, adding layers but still cold. Give them real warmth, real love, real identity. Take away the longing, and remake it- Such an endless friendship with the ONE who fills.