homeless

At the corner of Sherwood and the Mertzon exit, people stand with cardboard signs that proclaim "Homeless" or "need food." While you're waiting for the light to turn green, you try not to make eye contact. The what-if questions always start churning. The light turns green, and you drive away.

Today, the kids picked Unidad Park, the park with the slide that has rollers. It's usually a friendly park, a place where the MOPS moms meet in the summer. Today, a homeless man was sleeping on a bench there. You can imagine the battle this created in my mind. My purse is in the car; I probably have $10-15 cash in there to give him for food today. What if he grabs me? No one else is here to help. I could give him money and ask him if he knows Jesus. He has a cast on his arm. He looks scary; I'd better watch the kids. (Please, Carly, don't ask why this man is lying here. I wouldn't want him to hear you.) What if he'd use my money for a smoke instead of food? Verses of God's grace flowed through my mind mixed with verses mentioning the poor. Do these verses tell me to help this guy? The man got up and walked to the portable restrooms. We caught a whiff of him as he passed us. His face looked scary too as we made eye contact and exchanged hellos. What would a mere $10 do for him anyway? He needs a home. I don't want to give him money without talking to him about Jesus, but how could I do this without putting us in danger?

We left the park with the man standing and staring at the flag pole. And $10-15 was still in my purse. And I hadn't risked anybody's safety.

What would you have done? What's the right thing to do?