I didn’t even see her. I had walked in and out of our local supermarket with my eight-year-old daughter to run a quick errand for a next day’s class picnic. Once we were both buckled in the car, she said, “Daddy, didn’t you see the woman holding the sign saying – Homeless. Pregnant.”?
I said I hadn’t and now was in a rush to get home as it was well past her bedtime. More out of our curiosity than judgment, my daughter then asked, “Are you going to do anything?”
If I were being honest, I would not have done a thing, if she hadn’t asked. In New York, you become conditioned to not only not help the homeless but to not even see them. It is the norm to walk by impervious to both their need and their humanity.
Instead, provoked by my daughter’s questions, once home I packed a small bag of food and drink and a few dollars I had pulled from our kindness jar. Returning to the grocery story, she spoke first – asking about my dog that had accompanied me to break the ice.
Her name is Jessica and she is staying at a homeless shelter. After a few brief but pleasant minutes, I handed her the bag, money and a piece of paper with some referrals provided to me by a friend who is a social worker. We said our farewells with a passing hope that our paths might pass again.
In his recent column on the philosophy of personalism, David Brooks wrote a perfect description of how I felt after my meeting with Jessica.
“Despite what the achievement culture teaches, that dignity does not depend on what you do, how successful you are or whether your school calls you gifted. Infinite worth is inherent in being human. Every human encounter is a meeting of equals. Doing community service isn’t about saving the poor; it’s a meeting of absolute equals as both seek to change and grow.”
As Dad’s around the country opened Father’s Day presents, perhaps the greatest gifts our children give us is when they open our eyes to see the world as they do. A vision not yet clouded by judgment or bias but kept clear through their innocence, wonder and innate sense of right and wrong.
It happens unexpectedly like when our six-year-old asks of the food on her plate, “Is this an animal?” Or when our 10-year-old wonders why one character in a book intentionally hurts another? And most recently, when my eight-year-old questioned, “Are you going to do anything?”
Their questions and observations give us pause to reconsider our own views and actions in the world. We are become blessed as a result.