Finding Compassion

Yesterday the sole focus of my day, apart from caring from Gavin, was to be able to drive to a Starbucks for a drink "to go." You see, when you're sick, even little goals mean something. I found a sweet parking space right in front of the store, grabbed G-Man in his carseat (also not an easy feat when still a bit sore from surgery), and teetered toward the door. As I prepared to push it open I noticed a thin and sickly looking man crouched down on the pavement. Even in the suburbs of Chicago this is not unusual, but this man was so thin he could have easily been transplanted from Calcutta. "Please, I need money for food," he said. "I'm so hungry."

I'd like to say that I always stop and give of my time and resources when I encounter homeless people, but the truth is, I have become somewhat impervious to the scores of homeless I encounter each week. Apart from the Street Wise guys, I wonder where the money is going. But this man actually looked extremely hungry and ill, and perhaps as I carried my son in my arms I knew inside that I want to be the kind of mom who takes time for all kinds of people. So when I ordered my drink, I bought the man a piece of pumpkin bread.

I walked out of Starbucks and as soon as I hit the sidewalk the man, again, asked me for money for food. I offered him the bag of sweets with a smile and he said, "I don't eat cookies, I don't want that." Incredulous, I said, "This is not a cookie. It's pumpkin bread." The man grabbed the bag out of my hand and said, "Oh. Well, I like pumpkin bread."

If you're really hungry, wouldn't you eat a cookie?