It was one of those classic Los Angeles downpours, the kind that turns the streets into murky rivers and makes you want to be curled up at home. But there we were, my two young sons and I, outside a Thrifty’s drug store on a Sunday afternoon. The boys, just 6 and 3 at the time, were safely buckled in their seats, their wide eyes watching the sheets of rain.
As I was about to hop in the driver’s seat, I saw her. A woman, probably not much older than I was in my early thirties, but life had clearly been much harsher to her. She was about my size, walking in slow, deliberate circles in the pouring rain. No jacket. No shoes. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, a desperate attempt at warmth.
I couldn’t just get in the car.
I walked over to her, the cold rain soaking my hair. “Why do you keep walking in circles?” I asked gently. She stopped and looked at me. Her eyes were vacant, filled with a sadness so deep it felt like a void. “Because I’m cold,” she whispered, her gaze dropping back to the pavement as she resumed her circular path.
Compassion. That’s the only word for what I felt. It was a deep, gut-wrenching pull to do something. I glanced back at my car and saw two little faces pressed against the window, watching me.
Without a second thought, I took off my fluffy, dark blue all-weather jacket. Then, I slipped off my own tennis shoes. I handed her the shoes first. They weren’t a perfect fit, but she managed, pushing down the backs to wear them like clogs. Then I handed her my jacket. She put it on, and it fit her perfectly.
We stood there for a moment in the rain, a silent understanding passing between us. She gave me a slight nod, turned, and walked away.
When I got back into the car, soaked and shoeless, my sons were staring at me, their expressions a mixture of confusion and awe. “Why did you do that, mommy?” one of them asked. “Why did you give away your shoes and jacket?”
I looked at their innocent faces and said the truest thing I could think of: “Because that could be us someday.”
When “Someday” Arrives
Ironically, just a few years later, it was us. A series of difficult life events and poor choices led to me losing our home. Suddenly, I was a single mother of three, and we were homeless. For over a year, we faced that struggle. It was one of the hardest times of my life, but it taught me a profound lesson.
People don’t end up on the streets for one simple reason. It’s not always about addiction or poor choices. Sometimes, life just…happens. A lost job, a medical crisis, a broken relationship – any of us could find ourselves in a situation we never imagined.
The Real Takeaway
That rainy day and my own subsequent struggles solidified a belief deep in my soul: we are meant to be a “we, us, our” kind of people, not a “me, my, I” kind of people.
You never truly know the battles someone else is fighting. That woman in the rain wasn’t just a “homeless person”; she was a human being who was cold and defeated. My jacket and shoes didn’t solve all her problems, but in that moment, they offered warmth, dignity, and a brief connection. It was a simple act, but to someone with nothing, simple things can mean everything.
So, the next time you see someone in need, remember my story. Remember that life is fragile and circumstances can change in an instant. If you have the power to help, even in a small way, do it. A kind word, a warm jacket, a pair of shoes – it might be the very thing that helps someone keep walking, not in circles, but forward.
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