I did something today that I have never done before. Something I'm ashamed to say that I've never done.
I live in an area with more than 100,000 people cramming into one town. That's a 50% growth in 10 years. The place is booming, and hosts shoppers from a 50-mile-radius regularly. We're a haven for homeless curb-dwellers. I've always ignored them, ranting silently in my head about their tacky antics. My husband freely gives them food and bottles of water when the heat is beaming down on them in the summer. I would just shake my head at the stupidity of standing in the heat or cold. It doesn't make sense. Not that I'm opposing my husband's humanity. I'm all for helping them with meals, just not cash. My rule is always no cash. For obvious reasons that we all think. But seriously, couldn't they be applying for jobs? Working hard like the rest of us? After all, that's what it takes! It takes drive and willpower to get anywhere in life. Little did I know that what I have always been thinking was very true and right in front of me as I thought those very thoughts.
I gave a homeless man all of the cash that my wallet had to offer. It wasn't much. Five dollars. But it's all that I had.
I notoriously do not carry cash on me. I like to see all of my transactions digitally. Thus, I know where I spend every dime and am better able to budget things this way. I never have change for a bottle of water in a vending machine when the heat is making my thirst scream and long for a cold beverage. I never have cash to give a co-worker to grab me some lunch on their way out when my belly is growling from the massive calories I just burned in the first half of a shift. I never have anything to tip the carhops at Sonic when they bring me my delicious milkshakes with a smile on their face in the unforgiving heat, or when their noses are beet red from the bitter cold. I always feel so incomplete, guilty, or mad at myself for loathing the physical presence of cash in my wallet at these times.
Every now and again, my husband will give me some cash from a transaction he's made, an ATM withdrawal, or a scratch ticket winning. And I'll tuck it away in the dark confines of my wallet for a rainy day. Or perhaps, more realistically, a time when I need cash. Sometimes it will sit there for months. Forgotten. Like a piece of clothing, not worn in years, tucked away in the farthest corner of a closet. But sometimes, sometimes I'll remember I have it and put it to good use. Like giving it to a complete stranger that wasn't even asking for it.
The flimsy, cardboard sign read 'Homeless Veteran.'
The man had a beard that looked as though it were decorated with salt and pepper. His eyes were heavy, wrinkles accenting every corner. His brows bushy and protective of his sunken, aged eyes. His clothes were layered and heavy with holes and wear. They laid on his thin body like a clothesline. His hands, and the few parts of exposed skin on his face, were chapped from the cold. His companion was sitting along side him on a curb. Her brown hair was mangled under an old hat. Her face was exposed to the bitter cold and chapped, as well. Her eyes distant with despair and shame, it appeared.
I saw these people. Not in a physical sense, but an emotional one. Human to human. I remembered that I had a five dollar bill tucked away in my wallet. My memory is typically rather poor, and why I remembered in that moment is beyond me. But it was my stash, and all that I had on me. I had no second thoughts, though. I was glad I had something. I scrambled to retrieve it from my unorganized bag while the traffic passed at the stop sign we sat at. As I was frantically rummaging my wallet, the traffic slowed. I didn't tell my husband what I was doing. I simply said to him, "Don't go yet." I found the five dollar bill, wrinkled and folded awckwardly. I rolled down my window and motioned for the man to come to me. He struggled to get up from the curb. I immediately felt guilty for not jumping out of the car to help him or bring the crinkly, little bill to him instead. He slowly approached my window. He looked baffled as to say, "What could I possibly help you with?" I handed him the five dollars, still folded the way I found it in my wallet. He slowly accepted it and smiled at me. He said, "God bless you" in the most sincere tone I've heard in a long time. Tears began to stream down my warm cheeks. Though it wasn't much, I had just given this man all that I had, and I couldn't even speak. I managed to mumble a "God bless" in return and rolled my window back up. My husband turned to me and said, "That was really nice of you." His tone surprised, but sincere. I didn't look at him. I couldn't. I was crying and didn't want him to know. For a variety of reasons. First and foremost, I was confused. I wasn't sure why these emotions had come over me so strongly. A few seconds later, I realized I was ashamed. Not to be crying, but that my husband was surprised that I had done such a kind act in his mind.
Had I always been so cynical? Judging every person on a corner with a cardboard sign? Shamefully, I knew I had. What does it take to put every ounce of your dignity aside and stand on a street corner with a pathetic sign? I wouldn't know the answer to that. But had I different occurrences in my life, I might just be able to say. I'm hard-working and driven, but I'm also human. My hard work and drive are backed by a strong, supportive family. What if I had not had that family, that support? Where would I be? Who would I be? Who knows. The thing is, everyone is going through something difficult at any given moment. And to judge them based on our own experiences is just ludicrous. We have no idea what it's like to walk in some else's shoes. None. No matter how close we are to them either. We just can't experience someone else's experiences and emotions. What has been the hardest experience in someone's life, and therefore their worst pain, may pale in comparison to someone else's hardships. But that does not pale their pain or experience in any way. As Buddha said, "Have compassion for all beings, rich and poor alike; Each has their suffering. Some suffer too much, others too little." I always thought these people must have been lazy to be asking for handouts. But it must take drive and willpower for them to get up in the morning and face people like me asking for a chance at life today. A chance for a warm place to sleep, a meal, more clothes, maybe a fix-if they need that. Whatever it is, it's not my place to judge them. I'm not contributing to their 'habits.' Even addicts get to a point where they need their fix just to survive. I'm just being humane. I'm giving another human being a chance. At what is not of my concern; it's just a chance. Plain and simple.
I helped someone less fortunate in a way that I will never know. That may have contributed to his funds for a hotel room for the night. A night where temperatures would not be above freezing. Maybe it went towards a hot meal for him and his companion. Or maybe he bought a bottle of liquor. Who knows. And who am I to judge? Even if he did buy liquor, he obviously needed it more than I did. Maybe it will keep him warm wherever he is camping out and temporarily drown away whatever sorrows he has for his situation.
Who knows if he was even a Veteran. His sign claimed such, so I choose to believe such. If I could go back to the curb, I would drive to the Hilton hotel behind him and buy him and his companion a room for the night. I would make sure it included a meal and breakfast. He fought for my freedom, so it would have been the least I could have done. But as with all good ideas, they only come after-the-fact. So, I will just ask God to take care of him tonight and hope he has somewhere warm to stay. In the words of a stranger that probably helped me in more ways than he'll ever know, God bless you.
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