Two dollars. That’s all it took to provide a lunch for two homeless people.

I don’t know why I cried when I gave the burgers to them. Maybe I was just overwhelmed by their gratitude. They thanked me, and thanked God. Maybe I felt shame… to be associated with him that way. All of a sudden, just for two measly dollars and two measly burgers, I was special to them. I almost wish I could’ve been invisible handing them food like that. I didn’t want the credit. I didn’t feel deserving.

Maybe I cried because their vulnerability — their humility — broke me. I don’t think I’ve ever been as vulnerable in front of a complete stranger as they were to me. I wonder if I’m even capable of that. I kind of felt lost, walking away, unsure of why I did what I did and unsure of what it meant, or means. As I walked away from the thankful men, hopefully out of their field of vision — though I’m not certain of it — I couldn’t hold back tears. I tried to control myself, but I know a couple of people saw me before the tears stopped.

Maybe I did then: Maybe for the few moments when I couldn’t control myself, I was just as vulnerable as those men. It just wasn’t by choice.