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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?

Answer.

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…

Missy


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


Comments

  1. sewsavyOctober 7, 2015 at 2:27 AM

    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.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Missy AOctober 9, 2015 at 3:42 PM

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

      Delete

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