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“Um, excuse me Miss, but I was was wondering if you had a few dollars to spare?”  I turned from loading groceries into the truck.  He was maybe 15, black ratty backpack slung over his shoulder, unkempt hair spilling over his forehead in an attempt to break away from the black knit cap that seemed unseasonably warm.

“See, my brother and I are homeless and I’d really like to get us something to eat.”

I stood there, feeling like an idiot.  I apologized when he said he was homeless, he shrugged it off. I apologized again, this time for not having cash.

“I don’t have any cash, I’m sorry.”   I reached into one of the bags I’d just put in the truck and pulled out the small plastic one. “You can have this though.”  I never buy deli lunches.  Never.  I don’t know what made me do it that day.  Honestly, I was probably feeling lazy and didn’t want to make anything when I got home from grocery shopping or make another stop on the way.

“Oh no.  No, I don’t want to take your lunch.”  I insisted.  I felt bad that I hadn’t bought more.  The 4 pieces of fried chicken and 20 french fries would do very little to fill those boys up.

“Please.  Take it.  I can buy more and I have no cash to give you.  Please.  Take it.” He thanked me over and over and then headed off – perhaps to find his brother.



I sat in the truck and started to feel bad.

What more could I do?  What more should I be doing?  Why is it so easy for me to forget all I have? 

I have never known hunger.  I have never been without shelter.

So the Classroom Of Life has taught me this:

There is always something to be thankful for and there is always something (more) you can do.