The Pope on panhandlers: Give
The word from the top is give.
The man himself says it is always right to give.
I’ve been told otherwise at other times.
Told that giving only enables poor choices.
Told they have places to go where people want to help them.
Told I’m only encouraging them.
Told they make all kinds of money.
Funny how being told so many times never made the feeling go away.
You know the feeling?
Seeing need so laid bare, so raw, so out there in the open.
I have seen so many:
Mothers hugging their babies walking the traffic
Weather beaten women in ragged dresses
The boy with one foot so large he could barely walk
The man with no legs in front of the bank
The chubby man with many coats who jumps up when he sees me coming
Today, walking to school, I saw the backpack first
then legs outstretched,
cup in his lap, eyes closed
and all the Saturday shoppers,
so animated, so deep in conversation, walk on by
yet tuned in enough to steer clear
give him a wide berth.
I saw him often in the fall.
Gave him a bag of figs one day.
Left a twenty beside him where he was sleeping.
I stopped, I had three Euros in change
I put it in his cup, asked, “¿Como estas?”
“Solito,” he said and kissed my hand.
My Spanish is limitado
I figured sol, sun, he meant the sunshine was good
“Solito,” I am alone
I wish now I had taken my last fifty out.
I remember coming in from offshore
Alone under the stars on the dark, cold sea,
Seeing, on the horizon, the light from the lighthouse
sweeping and for a moment finding us.
Saying, “I am here.” and “I see you.”
I know how that feels. To be alone and be found.
To feel the light for a moment,
A moment connected
not just hanging
suspended
between the stars above so achingly far away
and the dark, cold heart of the ocean below.
I am glad it is so easy
glad the holy father agrees
It is all and only about giving.
It is as simple as that.
