Something that was just too raw to share two weeks ago. It was three days after Laura had died, and the house had just Isa and me in it. Horrible deafening cacophonous quiet. I decided to go in to work. I took my normal route, and pulled up Washington to West Seventh just as the light turned yellow. Great. Long light. There are almost always panhandlers standing scruffily but politely on that corner, usually with a bit of a sad sack, puppy eyed look intended to elicit compassion. Instinctively I look over to the man and give a nod to acknowledge him. These also are people worthy of being seen and acknowledged. Just as I make eye contact and he nods, I totally lose it bursting out in heavy sobs. I think I startled him. I look away, embarrassed. Next thing I know, he is tapping on my window. Now Im the startled one. I cautiously roll down the window a bit. He says, Hey man, I dont know whats wrong, but itll be okay, man. Just wanted to tell you that. God bless you. I nod in reply, truly unable to speak. Light changes to green. I leave. But I will never forget. Here is a homeless man, reduced to living, eating, sleeping, begging on the street. LACKING THE MOST BASIC OF NEEDS. Yet he is taking time to show me the compassion of God. Thank you, my dear brother. May your journey be as blessed as you blessed me that morning.
Posted on: Mon, 02 Jun 2014 23:27:58 +0000