I spent a lot of time on the train this week, and in train stations, and if you want to get a view of our country, I say hop on a train for an eight-hour trip up the coast. I got a glimpse of ordinary America: its backyards, warehouses, fields, beaches, and forests. There’s a calming that takes place, riding the train, watching so much stream by.
Then, late on Wednesday night, I found myself in 30th Street Station. It’s kind of a haunting place at 11:00 p.m. on a weeknight, sitting in that grand expanse with only a handful of people, policemen wandering from corner to corner, homeless people drifting in and out. I was trying hard to stay awake.
I got up at one point and went to get a bottle of water at the only place still open, Dunkin’ Donuts, and as I stood there in line, a frail young man wrapped up in winter clothes approached me. “Excuse me,” he said. “Do you have a dollar to spare?”
Whenever someone asks me for money on the street, I think of this story and CS Lewis’s response.
One day, Lewis and a friend were walking down the road and came upon a street person who reached out to them for help. While his friend kept walking, Lewis stopped and proceeded to empty his wallet. When they resumed their journey, his friend asked, "What are you doing giving him your money like that? Don't you know he's just going to go squander all that on ale?" Lewis paused and replied, "That's all I was going to do with it."
I no longer have a sense that I am that much more responsible with my money than someone who lives on the street. Maybe you would disagree. That’s okay.
And yet, I also never carry cash, so I apologized and turned away. But when I got to the front of the line and paid for my bottle of water, I realized I did have a couple dollars in my wallet, so as I walked away, I went quietly to the young man and handed it to him.
“God bless you,” he said to me through watery eyes. And I went back to waiting in the station for my train, trying to stay awake.
But his words stuck with me. God bless you. They kept echoing in my mind. God bless you. It felt strangely powerful, to receive such a blessing, late at night in a strange city, waiting in 30th Street Station, nearing the end of a long journey. For someone like this young man, who our community would consider to be so low, to take the time and say those words to me, well, I actually felt it. I felt the blessing, like a tangible thing.
I wonder how many blessings I miss out on, because I’m in a hurry, or feeling rather too good about myself, or simply can’t be bothered. Or wrapped up in judgment.
So, this morning, I offer it to you. Three simple words. Take them with you, if you’d like.
God bless you.
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A few things for your weekend:
On the podcast this week, we talk with Elrena Evans about her new book, the life of special needs families, and how to navigate writing about your own children.
“I don’t know why, but this work of creating matters. It sustains the soul when every comfort feels like sandpaper, when every taste turns bitter on our tongues, when every pleasure ends in the hunger for more. And then we hear a song, or read a stanza, or see the brushstrokes on a canvas, and suddenly there’s a chance--there’s a chance that this all might be okay in the end.”
This week we discovered a star further from us than anything else we’ve ever discovered. No big deal.
Finally, here’s today’s Video of a Novel, in which I talk about my recent trip to Boston, why I went a week between writing days, and what I’m focusing on now that I’m back in the saddle.