I was coming out of the grocery store today when I was approached by a middle-aged man who wore the marks of a hard life. He asked, "Can you spare a dollar for some gas?" This is an unusual occurrence in my small town and I didn't have a ready answer. Almost instinctively I lied. I said, "I'm sorry I don't have any cash."
Why did I lie? This was the question I asked myself all the way home. Perhaps I was scared of him although he didn't pose much of a threat in a busy parking lot in broad daylight. No, it was something else. I was embarrassed for him. I felt his shame and I wanted to distance myself from it as quickly as possible. If I gave him money, I might accidentally look him in the eyes. There would no doubt be a deep well of pain there. It was easier to walk away.
I was almost home when I decided to turn around. I went back to the parking lot and gave him a five. I did look him in the eyes. I didn't so much see pain as gratitude. He seemed sincerely thankful that another human being was reaching out to him in some small way. There was a little spark of connection - worth far more than five dollars.
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