Humbled, I am.

I just had to run out to the convenience store because I needed milk for the recipe I'm cooking for tomorrow morning.  (Ugh! Plan better, Stacy!)

As I was walking into the store, I noticed something not uncommon in my neighborhood:  a homeless gentleman sitting outside, wrapped in a blanket.

I don't give money to folks.  In my walk from my parking spot to my office each day I pass by Atlanta police station boxes that suggest giving money in the boxes there instead of to random folks on the street.  It's in an effort to both cut down on visitors to our city feeling uncomfortable and make sure the funds go to a program instead of an individual (the verdict is still out on that for me).

Anyway.

As I walked past the gentleman in the blanket on the way in, I smiled and said hello but nothing more. But I figured eh? Maybe he might need a Coca-Cola, and why not get that and my little bottle of milk with the $5 in my pocket?  So I did. But when I walked out?  I was disappointed he was gone.  :(  That quickly.  Somebody probably complained or a cop was nearby (as is also, gratefully, in my 'hood as well) and he felt the need to be up and gone.

But what on earth was I going to do with a Coca-Cola now?  (I don't drink soda.)

So I'm driving away, really rather sad I couldn't give it to someone, but eh. It was a buck. Big deal.  But then I had to pause before turning out into traffic.  In doing that, I saw a gentleman cross my path a bit ahead of me.  He was well-kept but had a backpack and sleeping bag on his person and in my neighborhood, I know what that means. He didn't try to stop me or approach me or anything: was just going on about his own business. Perhaps that's why I felt really comfortable, rolled down my window and said loudly:  "Sir? Sir!" calling after him.

He turned around and instantly responded, "Yes, ma'am. Are you in need?"  -- while keeping a safe distance, probably so as not to alarm me.

"Oh no," I responded.  "I just have this Coca-Cola here I don't want.  I bought it for a gentleman who left before I could give it to him.  Would you like it?"  And handed it out my window.

"Thank you, ma'am," he responded, turning around to come back closer to me, but still keeping a crazy ridiculous distance even as I was handing something as close to our proximity as just outside a car window.  I wished him a Merry Christmas and he wished me one back.  And then I came home and now my casserole + the needed milk is in the oven.  In a warm, lovely home with beautiful smells coming from my kitchen and a big soft bed waiting for me when I'm ready to retire.

"Bless you, ma'am," he said to me just before I drove off.

And I realized fully I already am.