“How wonderful is it that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.”
Anne Frank
Thursdays are busy for us, really busy. We pick Grace up from school and rush (speed) to get Liberty to dance classes on time. While waiting for dance to end for Liberty I get Grace prepared for her class. Which includes feeding her a snack, changing her clothes in the car, (which requires flexibility) and entertaining her for 45 minutes. While Grace is in her class I do basically the same thing for Liberty, only in reverse most days. As soon as Grace gets done we rush (run) back in the car where she changes into her soccer gear.
I know, I know, typical Soccer Mom. Her kids’ lives are over scheduled, they have no time to be kids….This is only on Thursdays, we have no other commitments during the school week. And dance lasts all year, soccer only for three months. Before I am finished with this very paragraph I will shock you all with yet another bad mommy confession. Between dance and soccer we go through a fast food restaurant. I’m cringing too.
I have to feed the children, and there just isn’t any time in between the two for my nutritious home cooked dinners. I digress, the point of this story isn’t how rushed our schedule is, or that I break not one but two of the “good mommy” rules. )These rules are made by Mothers who break them all the time, they just do it secretly and then look down on those that are more open with their transgressions.)
While in the line at Burgerville ( I pick a local company that uses fresh, local produce and free range cattle.), Grace noticed a man hunched over one the dumpsters. “What is that man doing?” “Has he lost something?” “Is he the garbage guy?” I believe in telling my kids the truth, and that all people are children of God, and should be treated with love and respect. Homeless people included. The thing is we live in a small town, I’ve lived here my whole life and I can’t remember seeing a homeless person. So I tell the truth, “That man may not have a home, a bed, food. He is looking for something to eat, and he may not have money to buy himself dinner.” Grace has a history with the homeless, she has a compassionate heart and has never met a stranger. She is a wonderful child, my heart swells with love at her willingness to befriend anyone she meets.
The solution in her mind is easy, we should buy that man dinner. We have the money to buy his dinner, haven’t we? We do in fact have enough money to buy him dinner, and some gift certificates for other meals. But is it what he would want? Would he want a stranger to take pity on his situation, to buy him food based on the assumption that he would be grateful? I agree to buy him dinner; a hamburger with cheese and bacon, fries and a chocolate milk shake. (I figure he could use the extra protein and calories.) But I still haven’t figured out the correct way to approach this stranger.
As we turn the corner of the restaurant I see him, his bags laying at his feet. He looks tired. Old. His eyes have seen too much. I can almost not bear to watch him. My throat is tight. He is situated near the picnic tables, so I decide to park and unload. We can be late to soccer, she’s only six, it’s not the Olympics. But is it safe for me to have my two young children out of the car when I approach this man? It’s a busy road, certainly if the situation became bad someone would help?
Silly me, all these thoughts and there is Grace running towards the man. She only sees a hungry, tired man. She only thinks of helping him. And he smiles. The years and sadness fall away from his face. He has a beautiful smile, and really white teeth. (I’m a little thrown by the pretty teeth, and jealous.) His name is Rob. He is homeless. It started as a choice, a lifestyle. But now it’s becoming harder. He wishes he had made better choices. His family used to track him down, they haven’t recently. He came to our area to be closer to where they live, hoping they would find him when they ran their arron’s. If they asked him to go home with them he would.
He will eat with us, and asks if it would be okay to say grace. Of course it is. Grace volunteers to say it for us, over our meal. “Thank you God for this food, and thank you for our friends, amen.” That says it all. We eat, in silence. I feel like I should say more, offer more. But what? I do offer to call his family. But he refuses the offer, he cannot ask for their help, they have to offer it. He has pride. He believes in God, he never had a substance problem or mental issues. He just felt that this life was easier, that he didn’t answer to anyone, that he had freedom.
I give him gift certificates to get more food later. We say our goodbyes, I promise to keep my eye out for him and to stop and say hi if we see him. He tells us that people often won’t look at him; homeless people. It makes him feel less then human. I fight back tears. This man is someones child, he is God’s child. I promise to pray for him. Grace does also, she asks when we’ll see him again. I don’t have an answer, because the truth it maybe never. But I realize we will see many people just like him.
Grace holds his hand as a gesture of love and to say goodbye. We have to go, we are already pretty late and I need to make an attempt to show up on time. So with that we say a quick goodbye. It feels like I’m parting from the other Mom’s at school after a PTA meeting. It’s casual, strange. As we drive away, I wave into the rear view mirror and watch Rob wipe at his face.
I’ve been thinking about this simple meal. And then I saw that quote of Anne Franks. There it was, in that minute my 6 year old helped to change the world.
