Perspective and Sweet Tea

My biggest grievance today was that the cashier at Bojangles’ gave me unsweet tea at the drive-thru window. Y’all Southerners understand this travesty.

And then life was put into perspective. At the next stoplight there sat a man in filthy, worn- out fatigues holding a small scrap of cardboard. The words were too faded on the sign to be legible, but one can assume the message they held.

Without thought or hesitation, I handed him everything in my wallet- $1.

I apologized profusely for not having more to give but his reply was most unexpected and heartbreaking. “At least you thought of me.”

He was unconcerned with the amount. He only wanted to be seen, to be recognized, and to be heard as a human instead of what some would call an eyesore interwoven within the landscape of our city. So with no one behind me, I sat through two red lights and listened to his story.

“Ron” had completed several tours in Iraq but came back home to unexpected challenges. He stated: “I had to do some things over there. Terrible things. And it messed me up in the head. My wife left me but I don’t blame her. She didn’t know how to deal with it. I wish there was more help for someone like me who comes back from war and wants to be a part of society. But I don’t know how. I don’t know where to go.”

Sadly, I had no answers.

Eventually the light turned green once more and I had to leave. I went straight to a chain store to purchase items for a care package and then to an ATM for some extra cash hoping he could at least get a hotel room for the night. But when I went back to the stoplight he was no longer there. I drove around the area thinking he may have switched corners but I couldn’t find him.

I’m not concerned with the validity of his story. I don’t care if he hopped into a Cadillac after I left. And I wouldn’t mind one bit if he used the dollar bill I gave him to buy an airplane bottle of liquor. If you see someone in need, then you help them. If they turn out to be anything other than what they present, then that is on their conscious.

I will keep looking for him.

And I’ll never be ungrateful for unsweet tea again.

Side Note-

Example Care Package placed in a gallon zip-lock baggie that you can keep in your car for when you see a homeless individual. Most items can be travel size to help minimize the portability factor.

Toothpaste/brush

Mouthwash

Deodorant

Hand sanitizer

Band-aids

Chapstick

Feminine products

Tissues/hand-wipes

Lightweight snacks/Granola bars/Peanut butter crackers

Socks

Poncho/sunscreen/handwarmers

Cash or Gift Card

Tag, You're It

Yesterday I was tagged in a post on Facebook. But this wasn’t one of those lovely memes that tell you to tag someone you think is awesome. No, this was ugly family drama. Because where else but social media should you post your dirty laundry?

My biological grandpa is 77, a Pentecostal Holiness preacher, and the proud owner of at least three Member’s Only jackets. He can actually rock them tho.

Needless to say when it comes to anything religious, we view things differently. That’s mostly because I’m an Atheist homosexual. 

Now, someone decided to post a biblical scripture meme on my grandpa’s wall that was displaying the LGBT community in a negative light. My grandpa didn’t even know it was on his wall until another relative decided to hatefully point it out to him. Because fighting bigotry with bigotry is always the best policy??

My grandpa immediately deleted the post and even apologized to the offended individual publicly on their page. And that is what I have a problem with. He owes no one an apology.

Let’s ignore the fact for a minute that someone else took the liberty to post the meme. My grandpa has every right to post what he wants because it is HIS wall. He is entitled to his beliefs just as I am to mine.

But this is the thing: My partner and I have always had a place at my grandpa’s table. He has never once told us we were living in sin, going to Hell or that we should attend church. Not ONCE. In fact, I was even allowed to carve the turkey at Thanksgiving. It wasn’t pretty, but still.  

My grandpa is a man of humility, compassion, and peace. He’s like a hippie but without the drug use or Birkenstocks. Although, if he did wear sandals he’d put them on with black socks.

And while I am not a Christian, he has shown me what a true Christian should be. He’s just a man that keeps his door open and welcomes all.

So Grandpa Epps, please see this as an open love letter to you. I have no idea why I was tagged in someone else’s disrespectful rant, but know that I would never condone a harsh word directed towards you. Continue to post, like, and share without hesitancy because I am more concerned with what your heart displays than what appears on your Facebook wall.