Skip to main content

with a nod of dignity

with a nod of dignity, he pulled her close
people driving by without even looking; it’s too risky, so just don’t look

funny, and not in a good way, how that dignity and pride
stood out beyond the destitute

standing on that corner, all too familiar cardboard sign in hand
clothed in dirt from the street

a common sight has become our normal; we go by without a passing thought
these people were different

their presence struck my conscience; piercing my heart with their status
homelessness has a face

stepping out of comfort
Their sign was simple.  

Out of the corner of my eye I saw that it asked for camping gear.  No hollow pleas for food, work or a blatant hand-out.

I know nothing about the “whys” of why they were living on the street.  I don’t need to.  What does matter is my response to the things that I see with my eyes and my heart.  Am I aware?  Am I mindfully aware?


I received an email last week from some people living in Indonesia.  It mentioned that a lady came into their life that was an answer to a need.  It caused me to think about being an answer.  We are put in places at certain times to be someone’s answer.

It’s not possible to solve all of the homelessness or brokenness that we see.  Every place is filled with desperation in different forms.  In some manner we are all holding a sign asking for help, which takes far more dignity and strength than most of us could ever imagine.

I’m left contemplating how I can express my own pleas for help ... and be an answer…


If you have been mildly amused, challenged or inspired by what you have read, please pass on my blog to a friend, colleague, family member or even random acquaintance


  1. A very interesting take on a pervasive problem. I wish there was an answer and I agree with you on all counts. How do we express our need for help and be the answer to someone else.

    1. One opportunity at a time...thanks for reading, Marlene.


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

the lights just clicked on

The lights just clicked on. The ones we hung outside last Friday when the day was bright and fair. Today it’s cloudy and cold. It’s dark earlier. So, the lights just clicked on.

It’s pretty. If I squint, the white fairy lights look like tiny gleaming stars. Bordering on gazing at an inky sky, dotted and specked with minute bursts of light.

Two Moravian stars with multi-faceted points hang. They sway with the breeze. Moving to the wind’s breathed music. They reflect in the open window; mirror images, star duets.

Santa arrives in a helicopter descent at the Old Mill. He sets up shop, elves and reindeer to join later. High fives, and shy giggles, the kids approach. Innocent, bright eyes wide open and hopeful.

It’s a magical and expectant season. It’s Advent.

Advent – the arrival of the awaited One – is more than my lights clicking on, the Moravian stars dancing and my grandkids’ wonder at the arrival of Santa. I love each of these experiences and the specialness of the memories.

A baby sh…

the quiet paradox

I'm a music girl, but I like the quiet. So, I live with this paradox. I see other enigmas in my life - some are trivial, others deserve attention.

Look at society. Our current culture is rife in a quagmire of nonsensical. We say we care and want to love, yet do nothing. Or, worse, we simply yammer on about how "somebody" really should be taking care of this or that. I'm guilty here. No stones are being cast.

Ergo, I turned off the music to sit in the quiet. What can be heard in the quiet is unreal; the birds waking up, the guy down the street is warming his truck, the slight ringing in my ears,  my thoughts. I can hear my thoughts instead of drowning them out with sound. Sound that I normally groove on.

When I hear my thoughts, I'm more aware of the paradox. Even as I sit, the furnace clicks off and the sound of the refrigerator is noticeable; a see-saw invasion to my soul searching and hearing.

My interlude with quiet is ending. The sun is pouring through the w…

excellent. how serious are you?

Have you been told you always say something? I have. Evidently, I respond with "excellent" and then ask two questions:

How serious are you? And, what's the vision?
Each could be asked independently of each other or in reverse order, stacked on each other. Answering one leads to the asking and answering of the other. I know, it sounds like a labyrinth conversation.

How serious are you? About a decision, about a change, about a direction or choice? If the answer is some laissez faire something, then nothing will occur. Serious action will not take place, and probably nothing will come of the thought. You see, the degree of seriousness creates movement. Movement, in turn creates a response.

I picture it like the proverbial mousetrap game - the dropped marble starts a chain of events.
What's the vision is directly tied to the serious question. The vision will determine the degree to which we seriously take things. A wishy-washy, obscured view doesn't require much. Howe…