My brief exchange with a homeless girl left me thinking
One night, I was crossing out of the subway, and I saw a young Asian girl touting with a cardboard sign. I always soften when I see women who could be homeless on the streets. I recognize that some of their struggles might be more challenging than homeless or houseless men.
I stopped, walked back to her, and pulled out a dollar. The desire to be more generous did cross my mind. I had more in my wallet. But I gave her what I had pulled out and said, “God bless you.”
I wanted to say more. Maybe share my faith with her, but I decided against it. I didn’t like the idea of giving with the agenda of preaching to someone. She was bedraggled and maybe a little disoriented, but despite all that was present. She took it with deep gratitude and said, “Thank you, you’re beautiful.”
Those words stopped me cold in my tracks internally, even as I kept walking away. “You’re beautiful.” At that moment, I felt so unworthy of such a generous phrase. All I did was give her a dollar. And for the next 10 minutes, I thought about how I could have said something more encouraging. I could have told her she was beautiful too; I could have told her that God loves her; I could have told her to have hope. I could have told her all these things, but I didn’t. I could have given her a couple more dollars. I could have given her more. And I wish I did.
At that moment, I realized this jarring disconnect surfaced because I felt I was in a privileged position to give, but an unexpected role reversal came about, and she was the true giver instead.
She gave me a sense of worth. In a city that is so busy, where people hurry past trying to get somewhere, such kind human acknowledgment doesn’t come often.
And as I was processing these things with a friend, he asked me why couldn’t I just accept that people who are homeless on the streets can give us more than we can give to them sometimes.
And he was right. I’ve always had this mindset that they needed my help. My friend has a different perspective. He sees them as equals, people he could learn from them. He doesn’t see their poverty and lack as a blight in their life’s resume. He sees them as individuals who also have an ability to give to us as human beings.
This brings to mind other exchanges I’ve had. The man by Herald Square, who would always say “You’re awesome,” whenever anyone gave him change. Or the guy, hanging by midtown whom I once stopped to ask, “What are you most hopeful for?” And he pretty much sidetracked my question to say, “I am just thankful to be alive. I am thankful to be living.”
These are moments that have nourished me and reminded me that life can be simple. It isn’t just about the numbers and time ticking away. It isn’t about gaining a lot and everything you want. It is about the small, human things.
That moment with the lady had left an indelible mark on me. And I believe I will keep processing it as time goes on. I probably will not see her again, but if I do, I want her to know that she reminded me of my worth, and that is more valuable than any monetary exchange this city could offer.
