The other day, I was driving with my six-year old daughter Angela to downtown Knoxville. Where our exit ramp joined the thoroughfare, a haggard-looking, homeless person appeared, holding a sign that read: “STRANDED. Need help.” Quite alarmed by the sight of this unkempt, unshaven, toothless person staring at the people stopped in their cars near him, Angela asked, “What’s wrong him? Is he going to hurt us? What’s he holding? What does his sign say, Daddy??” Feeling weary and ill-prepared to launch into an explanation of poverty, abandonment, and homelessness with my first grader, I decided to change the tone a little bit. I answered, “It says, ‘I love everybody.’” Little Angela was suddenly beaming. “Aw…he looks like a nice man. I think he really does love everybody.” And then, when the light changed and we pulled away, she said, “Bye-bye, nice man!”
Maybe I wasn’t totally truthful, but I felt like I’d done some good.
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