Gray Man
His hair is gray, his face is gray, his demeanor is gray.
His pants are gray. His jacket is gray.
He sits on my slow-down-corner a lot in his gray hoodie.
His sign says ‘hungry’; after a few weeks, the sign is gray also.
I drive by him every morning irritated that he sits there, with
That sign and that shopping cart. I feel irritated instead of grateful.
I feel miffed instead of sorry for gray man.
Gray man sits on this corner for weeks.
It is getting a little bit colder. I wonder if he is homeless
Or just trying to fool us. Does he have a truck parked around the
corner? He has a dog with him today, a black dog who looks as
drab as gray man’s dingy clothes and un-soft-looking gray hoodie.
Gray man looks up to see if I recognize him but I drive past, without making
eye contact, afraid of his situation, afraid of his begging ways.
Feeling annoyed and angry instead of recognizing my fear and feeling compassionate
And helpful.
God introduces me to His Son when I get to heaven; but I do not recognize Him for I never made eye contact, remember?
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018
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