a cardboard sign

I sit at the light, sipping my coffee, my blinker impatiently reminding me that it's time to go.

There is a man to my right. Standing on the curb, holding a cardboard sign. Saying that he is a homeless vet. Asking for kindness. Asking me, WWJD?

I sit in my air-conditioned car, headed for home. Groceries to stock my fridge. A $2 dollar coffee in hand.

I don't know this man's story.

I don't know where he comes from or if he truly has nothing to go to.

I hate that when we were traveling, mostly in India and South Africa, we were told to never look beggars in the eye. Because this would encourage them.

Practical advice? Yes. Heartbreaking? Yes.

By not looking people in the eye, I am taking away their humanity. I am denying them the right to be recognized and their worth as human beings.

I hate that whenever I see someone standing on the corner, this advice flashes through my mind.

And that sometimes I heed it.

I don't want to acknowledge harsh truths, to literally look them in the eye.

It's much easier to continue my easy, comfortable, sure lifestyle in ignorance.

I don't want to be ignorant. 

I don't have the solution.

I just know I don't want to walk through this world with blinders on.