Today in the heart of downtown Oklahoma City, I had a quiet but piercing moment of reflection. I was walking toward the office when, near the sidewalk, I saw a man holding out an empty shoe-polish canister — a small, humble container that seemed to say as much by its emptiness as by its presence. He was simply asking for change.
I paused. But I had nothing to give then, so I continued on. The city’s bustle swallowed him up in that moment and I told myself I’d try to do something on the way back.
On the return walk, though my mind swirled with errands and tasks, I found that same man — sitting now with someone else, a woman beside him. She hadn’t dropped off food or coins and hurried away. Instead, she had struck up conversation. She had cut in half her chicken wrap and handed him a share. She hadn’t turned her back after doing a “charitable deed”—she remained, stayed, joined him in his space. She asked genuine questions. She listened. She treated him not as a problem to fix but as a person to know.
It struck me how rare this is.
We often draw lines between “us” and “them” — between people deserving of our attention and people we simply pass by. But this woman blurred that line. She didn’t just give; she sat. She didn’t just share; she stayed. She didn’t treat him as someone to help — but someone to love.
I stood nearby, watching quietly, reluctant to intrude, but deeply moved. I wanted to believe her kindness was spontaneous, unscripted. I wanted to believe in humanity again, in small actions that ripple outward.
Whoever you are, lady — in all your everydayness — you got it. You understood something many of us forget: that beyond the dichotomy of giver/receiver is the possibility of connection. Of human dignity. Of seeing each other.