Many near death experience testimonies discuss the value of serving others, as our thoughts and actions have more power than we recognize. And that power should be used for good.
Today I traveled to a major city to get a medical procedure, but the clinic refused to operate due to a miscommunication. So I decided to spend my day downtown.
I got lunch at Whole Foods, and watched a sickly-looking dog lie out in the sun. Its owners were addicts, and I could tell it was dehydrated and malnourished. So I bought a can of wet food, some paper bowls, and a gallon of water. The dog was sweet and drank the water happily before returning to the sun-scorched pavement.
A few blocks away, a woman in psychosis was sitting on the curb and talking to herself. There was a 7-11 across the street, so I asked her what she wanted from the store. Two bags of Doritos, two cans of beer, a bottle of water, and a hot dog. The cashier put it all in a big paper bag, and I delivered it like Santa Claus on Christmas morning. The lady smiled and said āYouāre beautiful.ā
I kept walking and found another woman with no teeth holding up a cardboard sign. I asked her if she had Cashapp or Venmo, but she said no. I said I didnāt have cash and I wish I could do more. But she was grateful anyway. Well wishes wonāt put food on the table, but they can ease the pain of invisibility.
I stopped at an intersection just a few feet away, and an older woman with a kind face looked at me like she knew me. Her eyes were eager and bright, and I matched her warmth with a smile.
I rented an electric scooter and zipped along the sidewalk for a few miles, slowing down for pedestrians and cracks in the pavement. The overcast sky softened the heat of the day. My stomach was rumbling and I locked eyes with the sign of a marketplace.
I heard a voice say āHey bestieā. It was a friendly young man with long curly hair, canvassing to raise money for protected lands. Ironically he looked like one of my actual best friends, so I got off my scooter and gave him the time of day. We talked about politics, astrology, and the earth. We laughed a few times, and he said I had a good vibe. And I knew he meant it. I gave him a twenty-five dollar recurring donation, and we walked into the market so he could use the restroom. We shook hands, and as we parted ways he said, āYour donation just planted a hundred treesā. Canvassing is one of the most demoralizing jobs in the world, and I was honored to be the only stranger who spoke to him that day.
On my way back home, I emptied the change in my wallet for a gentle spirited man, who waited at a distance of three feet out of respect. I felt the shame radiating off of him, shaping the tone of his voice and the way he postured himself. Societyās hatred for poverty spares no one. A handful of change and a smile rewrites the narrative for even just a moment.
That was my version of ministry. Not Bible bashing, homophobia, sexism, hellfire bullshit. Not putting a dollar bill in a wicker basket to buy Godās graces. Just going out into the streets and meeting the people where they are.
And damn it felt goodā better than any high.
It was uplifting, pure, and honest. Being to being, soul to soul. Uncorrupted by self interest and showmanship. Divinity and beauty, found right there on the curb of a dirty sidewalk.
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