“The Dare: To reach life’s end having lived not only the length of it, but also its depth, width and height.”

He stood there.

More accurately, he stood out.

He was braced, feet distanced soldier-style, body erect, on a grassy island about 2′ x 2′ in size between the traffic and median divider, trying to practice perseverance, restore pride.

His clothes were tattered, dirty.  His scruffy beard spoke of hard times, little access lately to the joys of grooming.  His reddened, raw skin revealed it’d been a long day in the sun.

He mustered all his courage to look passersby in the eye, while they, in turn, glued their gaze to the traffic light, avoiding eye contact.

His cardboard sign, which looked like it was penned by a child, announced, “Will Work for Food.”

He’d lost his job, his wife, his kids, his home, his car, his wallet, his hope, his rabbit’s foot.

Okay, I don’t really know that. My editor would scold me for changing ‘point of view’ as there is no way I could know he was practicing perseverance, mustering courage and had lost everything.

But then, that’s the dilemma of encountering such folks, isn’t it?

We try to tweak our point of view to make it more palatable.  We remove the unknowns by assigning knowns or probables to them.

We evaluate before we act.

They’re homeless.

They’re drug addicts.

They’re boozers.

They’re God-fearing, hard-working, tax-paying, family-loving solid citizens who’ve succumbed to the hard times of this recession.  Heck, wife Madge and the kids are waiting over in the nearby woods and none of them have eaten for three days.

Who knows?

That’s the point, isn’t it?  That we never know.  And still, we must make snap decisions.

I’ve worked in—and just outside of—four large cities in my life (Washington D.C., Baltimore, Philadelphia, Cleveland) so I’ve seen all sorts of scenarios once street people (vagrants? bums? angels in disguise?) pocketed a little money.  So, you never know.

But, does it matter?

I did what I usually do when I encounter such folks.  I reached into my purse for the McDonald’s coupons.

Huh?

Yep, I long ago learned to be ready.  I didn’t want to subsidize an addiction—booze, drugs, worse.  So, I kept McDonald’s coupons in my purse. The recipient’s only choice would be to trade the coupon for food.  As you know, there are McDonald’s around every corner.

But this time, I came up empty.

I’d forgotten to stock up.

And in my wallet?  One twenty-dollar bill.

I’d have to give him cash.  Cash that I needed a little more than a few weeks ago before I’d lost one of my clients. Cash that I intended for cat food, milk, printer paper, all of which was on my shopping list.

Then my stomach growled and I felt his hunger.  Funny how that happens.

Yes, I’d have to give him cash.

But what if I was unknowingly helping an addiction?

The Dare: Depth. Width. Height.

Depth:  Look inward.  If I were he, I’d be scared to death.  Imagine living like this day by day. And what about his inward?  The man may be hurting deep down in his soul.  His turnaround may hinge on someone, just one person, extending kindness.

Or not.

Width:  Look around. This stranger resided outside of the circle of my everyday.  Outside my comfort zone.  Should I, the introvert, let him into my circle? Surely the money I could give him, when combined with the rest he collected, might help him get out of this situation.

Or not.

Height:  Look up.  WWJD?

Okay, that one clinched it, made me chuckle.  Jesus would tell him to climb in the car, take him out to dinner, give him a bed for the night, and toss in a parable and a pair of sandals, no charge.

“Truly I say, whatever you did for one of the least of these my brethren, you did for me.”  

Was I serious about “The Dare”..?

“Give and ye shall receive.”

But isn’t that a selfish reason for giving?

Or not.

You never know what it will cost to give.

But, what will be the cost of not giving?

I gave him the twenty.

And told him thanks (for helping me see more clearly).

I think I felt us both expand in depth, width and height.