Vagrant

A few weeks ago I did something that normally I would have not taken into account as an important event, except that one very small detail transformed it, for me, into such a thing. I am normally not inclined to speak of these things because I have seen others do so as a means to attain their own glory, and for another thing, God advises us not to do so, and for another thing, the glory is only in our own minds, and for another thing, I have other ways of seeking my own glory.

There may come a time, if it has not come already, when you hear someone promote their own goodliness. They may say something to the effect of, “Some people really need to give more. I mean, I give such and such an amount of money to such and such a charity, but most people don’t even give anything. Not that I’m bragging or anything.” Comments such as these are often spoken under the guise of humility: “I donate $100 every month to starving children, but it’s just not enough.” But self-righteousness is very clearly at the core of it.

I, however, could not brag even if I wanted to, because even if I do give money to a homeless person, it is never more than a couple bucks, and always less than I could afford. But now the question becomes, am I bragging about not bragging? Regardless, I do feel inclined to recount the following instance of when I nobly and heroically gave some food to a homeless man because I feel as though it may have some practical value.

Often, when the subject of giving to the homeless is being discussed, the argument arises that many homeless folks are addicts and if you give them money, you will only be fueling their vice. It is true that it is risky to give money, therefore, we determine that to give food is a more appropriate course of action. Another argument is that they are there because of the bad choices they have made and giving them handouts won’t help motivate them to change. Maybe this is true as well, but even people who make mistakes – even very significant and consistent mistakes – need to eat.

So when I pulled into the Coborn’s parking lot and saw a middle-aged man with a sign sitting on the grass beside the road, these things went through my mind. I thought, “Maybe I should help him out”. Then, “Well I can’t give him money, he’ll only drink it”. Then, “Well I could just buy some groceries for him and then take them out to him as I am leaving”. But what if he doesn’t take them? You will have wasted you r money. I could ask him if he would accept food instead of money. You don’t approach strangers and begin conversations. You’re not gregarious. It would be very out of character. Well now I have to do it just to prove to myself that I am not THAT introverted. Let’s just do it.

So I got out of my car and went over to the man. His face appeared weathered by alcohol and his clothes were dirty, as I would expect of the condition of any vagrant. I asked – probably not so politely (not to be intentionally rude, but I am just not always good with people) – him if he needed some food or what. He mumbled something that sounded affirmative, seeming to me to be agitated that it was not money that I was offering him. I said, “Okay, I’ll be back in a bit”. He seemed not to believe me.

I walked into the store and picked up the cold medicine that I had come for, and then went to the deli and scrounged together some random foods that I thought homeless people might like, as if they did not have distinct personalities or tastes. I was thinking what a waste this all was. The guy didn’t even want food, he wanted cash. But I said I would do it and because I am flippant with my money, it was no big deal anyway.

I emerged from the store with a bag of food for the guy and made my way toward him. A good thing to do would have been to converse with him in order to make him feel welcome as a part of humanity, and not so perpetually frowned upon, but I am no conversationalist and was not willing to do that. I was going to hand him the bag of food, shrug at his indifferent and thankless response, and go back home.

He was still there when I rounded the corner. I walked up to him and set the bag in front of him. He said “Thanks”, I said, “No problem” and I turned to walk away, and as I did, from the corner of my eye, I saw him smile.