ashamed

Ashamed.

That's not a feeling I experience very often.

Today, I stopped on the way home from doing errands at the gas station.  It was 97 degrees, Cole and I were hot and tired and I needed to get home so Cole could have his nap.  He was whining in the backseat and the line was taking forever, so my patience was starting to stretch.

An older gentlemen, dressed in simple clothes with deep lines etched on his face, walked by the car carrying a roll of paper towels and some Windex.  He made eye contact with me and gestured to roll down the window.  He told me how he was trying to get to Portland, how he'd hitchhiked all the way from Pennsylvania and was washing windows for money.

"Anything will help - a dollar, anything." He pleaded.

I'm not the type who's very comfortable around strangers in general, and much as I try not to judge, homeless people make me especially nervous.  Too many stories in the media, too many generalizations.  For whatever the reason, I quickly shook my head no.

"Sorry," I said as I rolled up my window.

But as I started to drive away, I heard Cole babbling in the backseat.  I thought about all my ideas for when he is older to teach him to be kind and generous to others, especially those in need.  I thought about how, for the first time, our family is in a better place for giving to others.  I thought about how many homeless people I see just asking for a handout on the corner, and here this man was willing to work, to stand out in the hot sun just to make a buck.

I was ashamed.

How many times a day do I think about how to shape my actions to show Cole the example of the kind of person I want him to be?  How would I have wanted my son to behave toward this man?  If that man had been Cole in sixty years, wouldn't I want a stranger to help him out?

So I turned around.  I had exactly seven dollars in my wallet, and as I handed it to the man with my apology, his face lit up. 

"Thank you, ma'am.  Thank you so very much."

I told him no, thank you.  That I wished I had more to give him.  I told him thank you for reminding me of the important lesson I wanted to teach my baby.  And as I drove away for the second time, I felt better.

Was it enough?  Maybe not.  But perhaps it was a step in the right direction.  And one of these days, Cole will remember our actions toward someone in need, and hopefully copy them. 

And then the world will be that much better of a place.

"Be the change you wish to see in the world." -Mahatma Ghandi