One moment

I am a wife, stay-at-home mom, homeschooler, photographer and writer. I know. It is crazy to me, too.

My husband had planned to give me an afternoon to work on an article I am pitching to a magazine and I ducked into my local Starbuck for some much-needed quiet research time.

I felt quite lucky to find a table at which to sit, and I pulled out my computer and some notes. I settled in with my trenta black iced tea (yep, I love my iced tea THAT much!)  and a small box of crackers, cheese and fruit.

Not more than five minutes into my work I noticed a man - with whom I've spoken before - walk in. I am ashamed to say that I focused with a laser-stare at my computer and prayed that this gentleman wouldn't see me.

Alas, I felt the tapping at my shoulder.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but I've fallen on hard times and I'm trying to catch the train," he began.

"Hi, M____. Yes. I know. We've spoken before," I said - hiding my frustration.

"Do you have some money? I have a daughter and I haven't seen her in three years," he said.

"I know, I know," I said. That was the moment. The connection had begun.

With vivid detail, I remembered him previously having talked about his daughter, her age and her birthday. I knew his previous profession. I recalled his downward spiral. I am not great in math or with numbers, but I can pull random facts about strangers and family alike out of my head without hesitation.

Tears flowed onto weathered cheeks. Hands boasting a rougher life than most cradled his head. A broken voice tried to share words, but none came.

What do you do in that moment?

I sat there, arm around his shoulder, and waited. After he composed himself, he said he couldn't believe I remembered about his little girl. While I apologized for not having anything but a few dollars, he said not even his friends at the shelter remember his daughter.

I passed over my protein box and we spent the afternoon talking about his regrets, how he was trying to change his future and how much his girl needed him.

A lot of time passed.

I didn't get more than a few words written that afternoon.

My head wanted to do something, but God had other plans. Had I not listened to my heart, I would have said, "no," to the initial question and kept my hat on. But, my soul was stirred and God's plan for me that day was not to write, but rather to listen to and treat a man without a home as a human being - as a friend.

I'll be blunt. I don't always listen when God speaks to me. Probably more times than not,  I've turned from the whisper. That afternoon, I heard it - and I followed the call.

In a moment, the entire course of my day changed. I didn't have much to offer this man, but what little I did - time and conversation - I offered without limitations. And he, again having little, offered me conversation and trusted me enough to share his failures and his desires and his dreams.

Two lives. Three hours. One moment.

Live the moment.