Ask

I have always traveled with food and money. I carry money just in case I need quick fix for emergencies my debit card can't buy me. I carry food so hunger isn't one of those emergencies.

I'm on my way to the airport, walking from my drop off point from the train to the pick up point for the bus. I'm a brisk walker, so I'm weaving through the sparse crowd of people in Union Station. Picking my way toward the ticket counter, I see a homeless woman. She is older than most people I see living homelessly. The skin on her arms and ankles is ashy and flaking off. (Don't know what it is, but seeing homeless people's skin always gets me. Earlier the same day I had given some money to a man who was begging, and he had open sores all over his body.)

Now, she's not begging, so I walk right by. I'm cruising up the walkway when I stop dead in my tracks, halted by this simple thought, "I just walked by Jesus."

As a Christian, this is what I consider one of our most central teachings. Jesus is in everyone. Which makes everyone Jesus... at least when it comes to moral consideration. Christ had a lot of "turn the system on its head" teachings, and care for the poor and lowly. What soever you do to the least of my people...

...that you do unto me.

So I'm standing there, half turned to go back. My realization has kept me from walking by, but there are a few things keeping me from talking to her. On one level, I'm embarrassed. Don't know why. Perhaps nothing more than stranger anxiety. On another level, I'm hurried. Wanna catch my bus. Thirdly, I'm not sure what to say or how to act.

And then part of my brain sets of the I alert. I've just had three consecutive thoughts about me and what I want. Just act.

So I walk up to her, ad I ask, "Do you need anything?" She wasn't asking for anything in particular, so just started there.

She just stares at me. Almost confused.

"Do you need anything?" I say again, "like... money... or food?"

Again, she's still staring. After a moment, she gives me a meek, doe eyed nod, never breaking eye contact.

I pull $5 out of my wallet (I carry my cash in fives as of late... its a denomination I feel I can actually give out and still mean something. What's a one buy these days?). I grab a few fruit and protein bars out of my bag. I hand them over.

I'm about to go, but she catches my eye again. In a quiet, sweet, and unassuming voice she burns seven words into life forever.

"No one has ever asked me that."

I'm floored. I don't know what to say. I say something. I don't even remember what it was. We are just there, in the midst of a moment. I'm realizing in a visceral way that there are people like her in this world so marginalized by her situation that she becomes invisible. She is realizing that there are people like me in this world who can see the invisible.

As I walk away, all my skin is tingling. In that moment I feel simultaneously tiny and huge. Tiny compared to the God I have just given food to. Tiny compared to her humanity. But my strides feel like seven leagues apiece. I can make a huge difference. I just have showed her the immense power of love... and this is just the beginning.

Whatever you do, don't admire me. Don't waste your time. Instead, just start asking people what they need. And mean it. It is not by needing that causes suffering. Needs cause pain. But to be in pain and to be alone, ostracized by your ailment... that is what steals your humanity. That is what threatens your worth and diminishes your purpose.

So ask people. Strive to see the hurts that your world would hide, and look for the people your world would ignore. A moment of truth, it seems to me, makes a world of difference.

Guilt Farmer

Nobody eats my guilt, my self loathing doesn't purify stagnant drinking water, and no one is given liberty when I wallow in my failures.

Morality is not accomplished by self abrasion. Rather, good work is done or failed to be done by the struggles of human efforts. Sure, my inner world has a ramifications on my behavior, and generally directs my life. But issues of self approval are tools for doing good, not barometers of goodness.