I couldn’t take it anymore
Walking by sad, homeless people,
barely looking at them
as I passed them by.
I wanted to be better than that
so I decided on a simple outreach plan:
I would give them granola bars.
Using my instincts,
I chose the people to approach.
I thought my gift to them was the granola bar,
but right away, I learned the truth:
It’s not about the granola bar
No matter how hungry a person was,
what mattered more than the bar was
my looking into their eyes
and that I wasn’t telling them
to be someone more,
to go somewhere else.
I was smiling and gentle
and, in return, no matter how deep their agony,
no matter how far back
they had to travel to me
from their psychotic wanderings,
they were there for me with friendly eyes
and polite “pleases” and “thank yous”
and “your compassion means a lot.”
One man clung to the granola bar
as though it were a gift from heaven
In a life where he owns nothing — but despair.
Yet even so …
It’s not about the granola bar
Our real connection became clear
when tears swelled up in his eyes
because, although he had asked nothing of me,
I came to him when he had forgotten
what it was like for someone to see him.
Giving of ourselves may seem like a little thing
but it isn’t, in fact, a little thing
but a big forever thing
that can change how a person feels about the world
but, very importantly, how he feels about his own worth.
Those simple gestures are selfish in a way
because each time I left in awe
of how kindness survives
inside worn-out, ignored people.
Kindness waiting for a reason to glow.
It’s not about the granola bar
It’s about talking with a person and not at a person.
It’s about giving him a moment of not being judged.
It’s about letting his humanity shine through
to light his smile that brightens both our worlds.
