Yogurt, Milk and Rice

Today on my way to the grocery store I stopped and talked to a woman who was sitting on the overpass with her 6 month old son, and a sign around her neck. She was hoping for handouts.

I don't usually give people money, and actually I walk past her the first time. But I notice the sign as I pass, and that makes me pause. I go back, and ask the lady what she needs. She immediately puts her hand out and says, "Dios te pagas", which means "God will repay you". I can tell from looking at her eyes that she is blind.

I tell her that I'm not going to give her money, but that I'm going to the grocery store about a block away, and ask if she would like me to get something for her.

I'm not gonna lie; this was a test of sorts. Young mother. Baby. If she asks for some kind of junk food, I'm done.

I lean in close; the traffic passing below our little drama is loud.

"Maybe a yogurt," she says.

That's it. I just offered to get her whatever she wanted from the grocery store, and she asked for one thing. A yogurt. Ok, I tell her, what else?

"What else?" she repeats. "Some milk," she says. Her son reaches his chubby little hands toward me. I want nothing more in this moment than to get this baby some milk.

I suggested maybe some rice.

Yes. Thank you so much.

I tell her I'll be back and head for the store. As I go lots of thoughts flood my mind. Foremost is this:

What must it be like?

Not just to be blind.

Not just to be blind and have a baby.

Not just to be blind and have a baby, but not to have anyone to take care of you.

What must it be like to depend on strangers to provide milk and rice for your family? To know that you can't feed your child without help.

My heart felt heavy.

For this woman.

For the fact that she is just one of millions around the world.

That I so often take my blessings for granted.

That I had never stopped before.