Dear Sir,
I first saw you when I came to Salt Lake City
on President’s Day. Your dog caught my
eye first. I smiled at first because he
looked cute all curled up on the sidewalk.
Then I looked into his sad eyes.
I saw you and your cardboard sign and I realized what was going on. “Can you get me something to eat?” you asked. I smiled politely and said the automatic
response of “Sorry, I don’t have anything,” and I walked away.
I tried to
forget. I tried to just simply enjoy the
Disney and the Yankee Candle store. But
your dog’s sad eyes haunted me. I kept
hearing your voice asking for food…food, something I have always had, something
I find great pleasure in creating with.
Suddenly I felt like I did when I was ten years old and watched a TV movie
with Lucille Ball playing an older homeless woman. She was getting ready to go to sleep at night
and after making sure that no one was looking, she took a teddy bear out of the
shopping cart she pushed around all day.
She kissed it and then set it next to her. It was over 25 years ago and I can still
remember crying inconsolably because it was just so sad. Even though I knew it wasn’t real, I wanted
so badly to make everything all better for her. I felt the same thing for you
and your sad dog. And then the voice of cynicism came in. What if you were playing me and all the other
people who walked by feeling sorry for you? Was it all some kind of con? Did
you really need help or were you just using unsuspecting people? No offense, it’s
just I’ve been lied to quite a lot in my life and sometimes I have a hard time
trusting people. I left Salt Lake an
hour and later, the cynic and the fixer still arguing inside of me.
I saw you
again yesterday. I was walking into the
mall and there you were, at the same place, your dog curled up beside you. For a
moment I wanted to turn away, to just continue on with my fun afternoon. I wanted to not see you. But I did. I did see you.
I’m telling you this because I know what it’s like to be surrounded by
people and feel like no one can see you.
“Enough is enough,” I thought and I turned and headed for McDonald’s. I bought some burgers and chicken nuggets and
then at the last minute I asked them to put in some apple pies. I walked out to the street and handed you the
back. “Right on,” you said, “Thank you
so much.” As I turned and went back inside, for a moment, I could hear you
talking softly to your dog, showing him what was inside the McDonald’s
bag.
I don’t know if I’ll see you again. I don’t know if mine was the first meal you
had all day or one of many. I’m not
writing this to show how cool I am because I gave food to a homeless
person. I am writing this because I need
to express something to you. I didn’t do
it just for you and your sweet dog. I did it for me too. I did it because I am tired. I am tired of that cynic in me that wonders
if everyone who needs help has an agenda. I am tired of seeing ulterior motives when I
should see people. It’s none of my
business what has you there on the street.
You yourself, as a member of mankind, are my business, as that old familiar
ghost Jacob Marley reminded me again this Christmas.
“You’re
welcome,” those were the only two words I said to you and then I walked back
inside. That’s all I could say. You see, I also know that I can’t fix your
problems. I know that there is part of
me that needs to let go of that overwhelming feeling of responsibility I felt
as a little girl watching a cold and lonely Lucy Ricardo hold her teddy bear. Even though I knew then that it wasn’t real,
I knew that there were plenty of cold and lonely real people on the streets and
it broke my heart. I still want to make
everything all better. I know I can’t. You want to know how I know that? Because I
know who can make everything all better. I know that He can see you too. He knows exactly where you are and where your
dog is. He knows where all of his people
are, even those who do not have a physical address. He can help you. He was the one who sent that McDonald’s bag to
you and in doing so He helped both us. He doesn’t want you to forget what apple
pie tastes like either.
Thanks for
listening. Best of luck to you. I hope
you find your way home soon.
Sincerely,
The lady at
the mall
