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September 20, 2002 - "He Sat Alone
Welcome to 2TheHeart!
"No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted." ~Aesop, ancient Greek moralist
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I hope you like the new look of our list service - I love it! I leave you this weekend with a story that is truly one of the most outstanding I have ever read. The moment witnessed by Steve between two men in need is one I will never forget. Please share this story with others and send Steve an email!
"He Sat Alone"
by Steve Manchester
It was an ordinary Saturday at Fenway Park in Boston. The streets were exploding with hoots and hollers. A closer look, however, revealed that no one was engaged in conversation. Men and women alike kept their eyes either on the ground before them, or focused straight ahead. Then I saw him. An elderly man was sitting alone on a stoop. Curious, I wandered over for a better look. A shiver traveled the length of my spine. Unfortunately, the temperature was not the cause of the horrible sensation.
Amidst a flowing river of Nikes and Timberland boots, the nameless man wore shoes that had worn through long ago. Dressed in threadbare rags, he held a silver coffee can in one trembling hand and his sign in the other. It read: "Hungry Korean War Vet." As if already dead, the man's eyes were sunken deep in his head, while a gray tinge painted his somber face. I was reminded of my own sacrifices made for my country in Operation Desert Storm. For a moment, I thought that my stomach might actually kick up the two hot dogs I'd just devoured.
People circumvented the man as if he were a leper. Not one person stopped to help. Obviously, it was easier to assume the man a con-artist than to find the truth in his tormented eyes. I somewhat understood. There were still many truths people did not want to know. In this case, that truth only defined a cold and uncaring society.
Other passers-by went above and beyond apathy. They were mean enough to leave behind an insult, or a laugh to stab the poor man's heart. The Vet was too old and weary to strike back at the masses. Each time a harsh word was offered him, his eyes closed briefly and then opened again as if he'd completely absorbed the cruelty.
Fifteen endless minutes elapsed and although the coffee can remained empty, I witnessed a fellow human being suffer more embarrassment and humiliation than deserving of an entire lifetime. Whatever dignity remained was greedily and brutally stripped away by those who, somewhere along the line, were hardened and left blind.
Suddenly, another unfortunate soul captured my attention. It was another elderly gentleman; this one, confined to a wheel chair. The man slowly approached a curbstone, and then worked his chair back and forth in a courageous attempt to clear the lip. It was no use. Determination and effort were quickly replaced by frustration and mumbled curses. Through it all, hundreds of patriotic baseball fans herded around him and proceeded onto their different ways. I stood paralyzed with shock.
As the numbness wore off, I took two steps to assist, but was one step too late. The homeless man placed his sign and empty cup on his stoop and went to help another who needed more. My eyes filled. There was still some good left in the world. Strangely enough, it always seemed to come from those who were in desperate need of what they themselves gave so selflessly. For his trouble, the Korean Vet received a donation. The two shared a genuine smile which apparently only those in need could understand. The pauper returned to his stoop and the judgmental gaze of a million cruel eyes. The man in the wheel chair pumped his arms to another of life's obstacles. I stood amazed. The same chill returned down my spine.
After placing a crisp twenty-dollar bill in the beggar's can, I received a nod for my generosity, and then a tap on the shoulder. My brother Randy's raised eyelids told me that he didn't approve.
During the lengthy ride home, I explained the tragic scene and the topic led to some unusually deep discussion. Though we were in complete agreement on most points: Not supporting a person's drug habits and the genuine possibility of being scammed, I found that Randy shared the strong opinions of most. I, on the other hand, was less suspicious. There didn't seem a need for it.
We traveled a good distance in silence. I decided that as long as my own intentions of helping were pure, then I didn't see any risk of injury to anyone. For the price of a scratch ticket, I'd rather give the man the benefit of the doubt. The odds seemed better. Besides, it was one of society's problems that more people should be taking personally. With thousands being swallowed up by unemployment and homelessness each day, it could have easily been anyone sitting on that same lonely stoop. Then, placing myself in that man's worn shoes, I only hoped that someone would be kind enough to take a chance on me rather than the state's lottery.
Reaching Fall River, my traveling companion broke the silence with a very innocent question. Though he expected no answer, Randy asked, "Steve, don't you ever wonder why God has given so much to so few, and so little to so many?" Surprised that my brother's thoughts mirrored my own, I smiled. The answer seemed so easy, so obvious. To Randy's surprise, I responded sincerely, "I think that God has given enough. The problem is that people have forgotten how to share His generous gifts!"
Needless to say, the rest of the journey was driven in silence, the Boston Red Sox continued to lose and somewhere on a very cold stoop- a needy man sat alone.
More Than Our Share
out of ghettos, comes the truth
with paupers sent to save
the world from all its evils
which makes each man a slave;
a slave to what he longs for
to all that's bought and sold
lifetimes spent amassing wealth
collecting jewels and gold
forgetting what he came for
his brothers bent in need
searching for some kindness
at least a gentle deed
but wealth is tough to part with
compassion's just as rare
some say, "God didn't give enough!"
He did, but we don't share.
Steven Manchester copyright 2002
Steve wrote "A Letter From the Front", which is found in our July archives, and is the published author of: THE UNEXPECTED STORM (P.S.I. RESEARCH; HELLGATE PRESS, 2000) an autobiographical account of Operation Desert Storm - revealing that some war wounds are invisible, while many are never suffered on the battlefield. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ SONGS OF FAITH AND COMFORT This stirring new Gospel Instrumental CD is now available! Listen to a clip of this beautiful music by 2TheHeart's own Rita Spillers and find ordering information here: http://www.themusiclady.biz/music.htm
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The Letter Box:
Dear Cori,
I so enjoyed reading your gentle, lovely story. Your husband's love reflected in all the little rainbows around the kitchen and the lovely detail of your home life made warm, happy reading. Glad you shared your story! Blessings, meg
Mary-Ellen Grisham "meg"
meginrose@empowering.com
Dear Sooz and Cori,
I could have said the same thing about Rainbows! It is a goal of mine to write 'someday' and one Title I have jotted down was almost the same. We are so Blessed to be able to read stories by such talented thoughtful people. Keep up the good work and keep sending more and more our way. Hersheys, Prayers and Blessings too, Geneva
Dear Susan...
Å friend sent me this short paragraph. It says so much in such a small space and reminds us that we have but to make a choice. Hope you enjoy it. Hugs EllieBraun-Haley
A native American grandfather was talking to his grandson about how he felt. He said, I feel as if I have two wolves fighting in my heart. One wolf is the vengeful, angry, violent one. The other wolf is the loving, compassionate one. The grandson asked him 'which wolf will win the fight in your heart?' The grandfather answered, 'the one I feed.'
Susan,
After I read Cori's Rainbow story, I came across this neat page about a Friendship Rainbow and thought your readers might like it. Love, Jennie THE FRIENDSHIP RAINBOW - Which colour is the most important? http://www.quickinspirations.com/redirect.asp?l=2459&u=35342486&c=1816&t=1
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www.2theheart.com
Making a difference, one story at a time!
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