Just $7.84

I had an opportunity to live missionally today and I missed. I let it pass me by, I'm guessing because I felt like a silent observer to the sadness playing out before me. Here I was in the food court of Horton Plaza, persons all around partaking on pretzels with mustard dipping sauce, cinnamon buns and hot dogs when a homeless man approached the food station I stood in front of. He held up his finger to indicate to the cashier to wait a moment as he reached for his money. He pulled out what looked to 5 or 6 bucks and asked the cashier how much the number one combo was.

The cashier said, "7.84."

The homeless man told him, "I will be right back."

Using one leg, he pulled himself away from the cash register. The kids, probably no older than 16 or 17, jeered and snickered to themselves as he rolled away. They laughed at him and mocked his appearance. I didn't say anything. I wished for a moment I could show them that so many of us, who live in a home, are one paycheck away from being in the same situation. I wanted for a moment to let the kids know that this man was still human, and despite his being homeless, deserved a chance to eat. I wanted to judge them for being so reckless with their taunts, but however brazen they were, I too was to be blamed. You see I had a couple bucks in my pocket and had just received an order for the very thing the man leaving in a wheel chair had just asked the price of, and while I sucked my teeth in disgust at the kids that were taunting him, I realized that I was the fool in the scenario because it was on my heart to help him, regardless of whether or not he "needed" my help, and I didn't do it. Given another chance I'd have tapped him on the shoulder and bought the meal that he didn't have the money to purchase for himself and would have walked away knowing that I did for others as I'd want them to do for me if I were in the same situation.