The other day, I pulled off the freeway to see a clean-shaven man standing on the corner where the off-ramp meets the street. His jeans were loosely pinned up where his left leg should have been, his weight supported by two crutches. One of his hands clutched a stack of papers, and as he turned toward me I could see that carefully written on his white t-shirt were the words, “Ask 4 My Resume”.
My heart sank deep within for the difficult road I imagined he’s traveled. There on that humble street corner stood someone’s son, maybe even someone’s brother or husband, wearing his hardship on his sleeve for the world to see. Yet somewhere inside of me wrestled the urge to roll down my window and open my wallet.
See, he wasn’t asking for charity, but a chance.
Not sympathy, but empathy instead.
And I’m realizing that some days, it isn’t enough to hand out compassion to others from the comfort of our cars; we must stand on street corners alongside them and do our best to understand.
After all, are we really all that different? Our limbs and t-shirts, cars and wallets do not separate us. We all know pain, we all know joy, and we all have a story. Maybe we just need to ask for more resumes.
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