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Thursday, December 22 2022

I wrote the following poem one day after encountering a homeless man on the street. The stoplight happened (?) to turn red right at the place he was sitting, so my car was right beside him. I couldn't ignore him, look away from him, or run away. There he was, staring me right smack dab in the face. I felt a rush of heat flow over my body. I couldn't believe that I didn't have any money. I think I had some change that had dropped in the bottom of my purse, but I thought to myself, by the time I scramble for it, the light will turn green, and the car behind me will be anxious for me to go and begin honking., at least that is what ran through my thoughts.

I drove off, praying that God would send someone to help. I felt awful. The poem below began flowing out of me, and I knew I must use it somehow. So, this is the way I choose to use it. Through prayer, I knew that I was going to propose to keep a specific amount of money in my side purse for anyone who sat on the side of the street begging. I wasn't going to judge or curse them for being there; I was going to help them.

I have heard all sorts of people condemn people who beg on the side of the road. Yes, some are doing it unjustly, and God will deal with them, but it takes more time to complain about someone than just opening your purse and giving the poor fellow a dollar. We don't know what happened to get them there. Sometimes we have a person summed up before they can even speak. And we say, many of us, that we are followers of Christ.

Therefore, the next time you see someone on the side of the road, I challenge you to help them. Don't judge them. Who knows, maybe it is a test from God!

Please Don't Pass Me By

I held up a sign.

You passed me by.

Little did you know I'd just lost my home.

I had a job, but it wasn't enough.

I wanted to give up.

I wanted to quit.

But something said no, not yet.

So I stand on the street with a sign in my hands.

I've been reduced to this even though I have tried as hard as I can.

I just got so I couldn't fight anymore, you know?

Surely, there is someone when they see I wrote "God Bless You" who would help me, isn't there?

Isn't there someone who won't judge me?

Everybody needs help sometimes, haven't you?

Isn't there someone who will help me get back on my feet?

Or even give me enough so I can eat?

Please. Please. Please.

Merry Christmas!

Posted by: Molly Painter AT 02:50 pm   |  Permalink   |  0 Comments  |  Email

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