Stories of Kindness from Around the World

Today, I was rushing to an appointment and I passed a man sitting on the sidewalk, leaning again a building, holding a cardboard sign over his head.

As I sped-walked past him, I glanced at the sign-- it read "Anything Helps" in thin, blue ink. You could barely read it if you weren't looking closely.

There are many homeless people in the city where I live, and I've recently noticed how, when I first moved to this city a decade ago, I'd stop and do whatever I could each time I passed by someone in need, whereas now, I walk right by and avoid interacting as much as possible. I've been wondering why that is. Have I gotten busier? More cautious and jaded over time? Even though I know a human being is a human being, no matter what mental state or social status they carry, or how much or little money they have, I've noticed how I don't fully act with that in mind on a daily basis.

Something about this homeless man struck me. He was curled up with with his knees to his chest, his cardboard sign covering his scalp like a hat, shielding him from the sun, and also any awkward eye contact of passerby. He looked as if he was hiding, like a child that wishes to be invisible, yet whose body still reluctantly takes up form and space in the air around him. Beside him was a plastic grocery bag with some clean towels. Around his wrists were several hospital tags.

I rushed by him, but for some reason, his presence stuck in my mind. I kept wondering what his story was. Why he was sitting on the random sidewalk all rolled up as if he was trying to disappear. I made it to my appointment on time, and as I went through the motions of my morning, I kept wondering what I was holding on to. What was that corner of my heart that held me back from instantly offering him some food or money. He wasn't asking for much. Anything helps.

My inner monologue turned to memories of my father, who would often empty his pockets to any homeless person he saw. He grew up on a rural farm "walking to school uphill both ways barefoot" :), and his parents had struggled to provide food on the table for him and his six siblings. Growing up, he always made sure I had more than I needed and tried as much as he was able to never shelter me from experiencing scarcity. He passed away a few years ago, and with Father's Day being a couple days ago, I had been wanting to do something in his honor, but hadn't given myself the time or space to think about what that might be. I decided that inspired by my dad, I would give something-- food, money, or simply my presence-- to this homeless man.

When I finished my appointment, I went home and packed up some of the extra food I had cooked this morning. I packed it up in some tupperware, along with fruit, trail mix, and couple other snacks. Then I remembered I had a gift card for a local deli as well as one for a nearby grocery store that had been sitting, waiting to be used, in my wallet and desk for over a year. I grabbed them and added them to the lunch bag. It's a hot day and I decided to add a lime popsicle into the mix, too. :) This was becoming quite the goody bag! As I was putting everything together, I noticed my heart expand. I found myself preparing this lunch as if I were making it for someone in my family-- hoping that the recipient would eat well and feel nourished.

I added a napkin, disposable silverware, and a quote to the bag. Then I wondered whether the man would still be at the same spot on the sidewalk. There was only one way to find out. :) I walked out the door and back to the street where I had passed him. There he was, in the same spot, knees curled up against his chest, with the same cardboard sign shading his head.

I walked down the street, and before I could think twice, I bee-lined towards him. He cautiously glanced in my direction. I smiled and held up the paper lunch bag. He lifted his cardboard sign, straightened his back, and placed the sign on the ground.

"I brought you some lunch." I offered.

"Oh, I was not expecting this!" he exclaimed, breathing out a sigh.

I handed him the bag, and he peered into it. Holding the items and asking what certain things were.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Edward," he answered. "What's this?" he asked, holding up a sandwich bag of dried fruit.

"Those are just some dates, dried fruit." I explained. "Where are you from?"

"Around here," he replied. Then he paused. "Wow. Thank you for this. I was praying this morning, asking for someone's heart to open."

We talked for a little bit. He showed me his cuts and scars on his head and hands from various fights and abuse he'd experienced. I learned that he had problems with substance abuse, and had now been alcohol-free for eight years. But he had mental health issues, and so now was on medication, which made him have to travel back and forth between our city, where he gets his medication, and another nearby city, to sleep in the shelter that accepts people with his kinds of needs. I gave him some money to take the subway to the shelter he mentioned.

"I'm 80 pounds underweight," he muttered, eyes looking down, not sure if he was talking to me or himself. Then he glanced back up. "I used to lift weights!" he boasted proudly. :)

As he shared his story, there was an open, honest, and weathered tone in his voice. He's definitely been to some dark and violent places, inside and out, but as I knelt there beside him, I felt the opposite of fear. There's something about giving that makes you feel like kin, and as I listened to him, I felt like I was hanging out with a brother. :)

He asked me my name, and then shook my hand.

"I hope you have a nice day," I told him. I really meant it.

"It's already gotten a lot better," he said, a lightness in his words. "Thank you."

As I walked away, his gratitude had become mine. My day, too, had already gotten a lot better.

Anything helps, indeed. :)