News
Opinion
I bought a homeless man a cup of coffee today. It happened spontaneously, unexpectedly and from the heart.
I was picking up four items for a hundred bucks when I noticed a youngish guy sitting on the bench near the store's entrance. He was friendly and, normally, I'm too busy or afraid of too-close engagement with a mental health patient to interact.
But this day, he told me he was cold, sleeping in the woods with his dog. Being a mom to the second power and adopter of pound critters, that stopped me. Cold.
I chatted with him a bit. He expressed hope for better circumstances, and I went about my now not-so-merry way to get everything my family wanted to eat.
I was not cold. I was not hungry. I was not destitute, and I can count on one hand how many times I've slept in the woods, voluntarily, “for fun” as the rest of us like to think of camping. What I was, was humbled. Mightily.
As he sat in front of the store, warming to the heat flowing out the sliding doors every time they opened, I was struck by this man's humanity and dignity.
When walking out with everything I needed to fulfill the creature comforts of my family, I witnessed the store clerk asking him if she could access the announcement board behind him. He politely and energetically moved.
It was so touching. Amongst his difficulties, he was something we used to call a gentleman.
I turned and trucked on over to the coffee shop to get him a cup of coffee with all the cream and sugar a man and his dog could want.
As I handed him his coffee he said reading the Bible provided him with comfort, specifically, Proverbs.
I don't know what got him there, and I'll leave the addressing of these more politically-charged issues to better-equipped pundits. What matters most is that he was there and I noticed.
That we all notice.
We talked about hope that things would improve. He wore mittens, and that made me happy. He told me he loved coffee, and I told him I was so glad, swallowing my emotions in the face of this average-appearing interchange. To me, it was anything but average, and I feel differently than I did before that day.
It made me realize that I should do more because I can.
The tears didn't unleash until I sat down to write about this experience, but they're not the sad kind so much as the kind that express gratitude for a humbling exchange.
In this season and, really, all others, we are so often filled with the need to let others know what we're about. We forget to listen to the stories of those aged relatives who tell us the same ones, year after year, and we don't sit down, patiently, and listen for the umpteenth time as our children detail the many toys they sure hope Santa will bring.
Here's the greatest gift, really: Noticing Listening.
Okay, I know that's two gifts. How about listening to what someone else is about? Their wishes. Their motivations. Their back story.
So, now I'll issue my challenge to you, that the next 29 days reflect simple acts of giving — by you.
There is a Web site that tells the story of a young woman who, when diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, was told to quit feeling sorry for herself and immediately engage in 29 days of giving. Her goal “is to create a worldwide revival of the giving spirit,” and the Web site is www.29gifts.org. There's even a book out.
The kindnesses are simple and, most often, not monetary at all. Anything you can offer in spur-of-the-moment works: Scraping the ice off of someone else's car, feeding a stranger's meter, parting with something you no longer use, or just calling up someone and providing them with the gift of listening.
‘Tis the season for humanity — all year long.
Diane Dean-Epps is an author, Nevada Union High School English teacher and comedienne, among other vocations. She can be reached at mswrite10@yahoo.com or DianeDeanEpps.com.
I was picking up four items for a hundred bucks when I noticed a youngish guy sitting on the bench near the store's entrance. He was friendly and, normally, I'm too busy or afraid of too-close engagement with a mental health patient to interact.
But this day, he told me he was cold, sleeping in the woods with his dog. Being a mom to the second power and adopter of pound critters, that stopped me. Cold.
I chatted with him a bit. He expressed hope for better circumstances, and I went about my now not-so-merry way to get everything my family wanted to eat.
I was not cold. I was not hungry. I was not destitute, and I can count on one hand how many times I've slept in the woods, voluntarily, “for fun” as the rest of us like to think of camping. What I was, was humbled. Mightily.
As he sat in front of the store, warming to the heat flowing out the sliding doors every time they opened, I was struck by this man's humanity and dignity.
When walking out with everything I needed to fulfill the creature comforts of my family, I witnessed the store clerk asking him if she could access the announcement board behind him. He politely and energetically moved.
It was so touching. Amongst his difficulties, he was something we used to call a gentleman.
I turned and trucked on over to the coffee shop to get him a cup of coffee with all the cream and sugar a man and his dog could want.
As I handed him his coffee he said reading the Bible provided him with comfort, specifically, Proverbs.
I don't know what got him there, and I'll leave the addressing of these more politically-charged issues to better-equipped pundits. What matters most is that he was there and I noticed.
That we all notice.
We talked about hope that things would improve. He wore mittens, and that made me happy. He told me he loved coffee, and I told him I was so glad, swallowing my emotions in the face of this average-appearing interchange. To me, it was anything but average, and I feel differently than I did before that day.
It made me realize that I should do more because I can.
The tears didn't unleash until I sat down to write about this experience, but they're not the sad kind so much as the kind that express gratitude for a humbling exchange.
In this season and, really, all others, we are so often filled with the need to let others know what we're about. We forget to listen to the stories of those aged relatives who tell us the same ones, year after year, and we don't sit down, patiently, and listen for the umpteenth time as our children detail the many toys they sure hope Santa will bring.
Here's the greatest gift, really: Noticing Listening.
Okay, I know that's two gifts. How about listening to what someone else is about? Their wishes. Their motivations. Their back story.
So, now I'll issue my challenge to you, that the next 29 days reflect simple acts of giving — by you.
There is a Web site that tells the story of a young woman who, when diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, was told to quit feeling sorry for herself and immediately engage in 29 days of giving. Her goal “is to create a worldwide revival of the giving spirit,” and the Web site is www.29gifts.org. There's even a book out.
The kindnesses are simple and, most often, not monetary at all. Anything you can offer in spur-of-the-moment works: Scraping the ice off of someone else's car, feeding a stranger's meter, parting with something you no longer use, or just calling up someone and providing them with the gift of listening.
‘Tis the season for humanity — all year long.
Diane Dean-Epps is an author, Nevada Union High School English teacher and comedienne, among other vocations. She can be reached at mswrite10@yahoo.com or DianeDeanEpps.com.
