Of A Small Bagged Lunch

Wednesday night, in between Rav getting home from another long day at work - post maternity offender and my road trip with Cracky McCrackster, I needed to run out for a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk. As I was pulling out of the parking lot of the store and heading for home, I happened to see, sitting on a bench in front of an elementary school, a person. And next to that person, a cart.
Once again, there is nothing in the car. Besides the loaf of bread and the milk. This does not make for a practical "meal". I head home and quickly whip up a sandwich, grab a bottle of gatorade, a banana, some crackers, and some cookies and a paper towel. I place it all in a brown bag and head back out the door.

My error? I knew that Rav would not be pleased about what I was doing. So I didn't tell him. I just ran out the door stating I'll be back in a minute.

I pull in the school parking lot and he is still there. Tiny thing he is. Much like the tiny woman a few weeks ago at the shopping center.

I approach him & he appears to be sleeping. I say Excuse Me? as I approach him. He opens his eyes and sees what I have in my hands. I tell him that I have some food inside for him, if he's interested. He says, Yes, that'll be fine. And he pats the empty space on the bench next to him for me to sit the bag lunch down on. And I do.
I tell him that I saw him at the store just a few minutes ago. That I wanted to help him however I could. So I ran home really quick and made him a sandwich and gave him what food I did have. I apologized for it not being much as I hadn't been to the grocery store for awhile........(and then I felt so, so small. I wanted to grab both of my feet & stick them into my mouth). He looked at me, shocked and said You did? You ran home to make me the food? I just smiled and said Yes.

This time, I'm better prepared for questions. I ask him if he has a place to stay. He tells me that his money just ran out.
(Our state gives out motel vouchers to the homeless).
He says he did have a car that he was living in, but he lost his car & he couldn't afford the gas anymore.
I asked him about shelters.
He says that he has a hard time making it all the way into Wilmington in time to make it before they close their doors at 4:00 p.m.

On one hand, I felt terrible even asking these questions because I can offer him no solution.

He tells me how he has a niece that lives nearby, but she leads a crazy life. And then he says My problems are my problems. I don't want to bother people. I've got to make my way.
I nod my head. For I know to try to tell him otherwise is fruitless. The man is well into his 50's or 60's.

He asks me what religion I was brought up in. I tell him that I was raised Episcopalian. And that I haven't been to church in quite a long time. But I try to do the right things. If I feel something in my heart, I try to do it.
Then he looks at me in his slow, underwater movements and says Well, you worked it out with me today. I was here. You were over there and saw me.
Again, he's making me smile. This gentle, quiet man.
I said, I'm Tabitha, by the way.
He says, I'm William. If you see me around, you can call me William.
He tries to say my name and has a hard time.
I say, A lot of people just call me Tab.
He chuckles and says, T-A-B?. OK, Tab.

He then starts talking about how he tries to save his money so that he has a place to stay during the cold, winter months. And that he just does what he can when the weather is warmer.
I listen to what he is saying and take in the realities of his years....the tides that bring him in and push him back out.

We part ways and this time, I leave feeling a little better about the whole thing. Better than I did the last time. As best as I can feel, anyway. Leaving him there to sleep wherever he can.

I come home and fill Rav in. And he's pretty upset.
He's worried about me just walking up to someone who will become violent or pissed off at me for offering something.
He warns me of the dangers of what I am doing.
He understands that I want to help.
But again, fears for my safety.

I really don't know how to reconcile his sensibility and my desire to do something. After years of wanting and never doing.
On one hand, I feel like a teenager being told no to do something and saying The more you tell me no, the more I'm going to do it anyway.
I'm just naturally rebellious that way.
That too, is a genetic predisposition.

I apologized to him for leaving and not telling him where I was going. And I said, Next time, then. You're coming with me. Would that make you feel better?

And what I don't say, and maybe I should is that I'm of the mindset that these things happen for a reason. There was a reason that he was there and that I saw him.
And that, I just can't shake.