On Reflection and Contemplation

Look out the window to give credit when things go well. Look in the mirror to see who to blame when they don’t.

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It is a seasonably cold December evening in New York City. Kelly and I are walking west on 45th Street with our daughters Rachel and Rebekah. We are all bundled in our winter coats. We’ve eaten a nice meal at our favorite deli in the Lower East Side and are heading to the theater district to take the girls to see the musical revival of Chicago on Broadway.

As we turn to head north on 5th Avenue, we nearly trip on a man sitting on the sidewalk. I instinctively put my arms around the girls and whisper to them, “Stay close to me. We aren’t in Texas anymore.”?

We continue to walk for a couple of blocks and stop in front of the Lacoste store. Our girls love the pullover shirts with the crocodile logo. As we glance in the store, two thoughts hit me, almost simultaneously.

First, as I look through the window, I think, “we can afford to buy the girls a shirt if they’d like. They’ve had a great year in school and have earned this.”

And then, I notice my reflection in the window. My second thought forces me into deep contemplation. “What kind of father am I? What example did I just set for them?” We passed a man sitting on the cold street and I acted as if he is a threat to us.

I instinctively reach in my overcoat pocket and feel a stack of $2 bills I use for tipping when I travel. I ask Kelly to take the kids into the store. I’ll return in a few minutes.

I turnaround and make my way back to the man we passed a few minutes ago. We are bundled in warm clothes, have just eaten good food, and are heading to a leisurely activity; all while this man is sitting on cold cement and simply wants pocket change. I missed the opportunity to treat him with the dignity he deserves, and to make it worse, I showed my indignation to our daughters. I selfishly want to get right with my soul.

I approach the man and ask him his name. Without looking up, he stutters B-B-Bill. I immediately think he may have a speech impediment, and that connects me with him. I have a speech impediment. I offer my hand and say, “Hello, Bill. My name is Steve.” He takes my hand, and despite not wearing any gloves, I feel extreme warmth from his hands. He looks at me and I can see his eyes are a bit cloudy.

Now I don’t remember the rest of the short conversation. What I do remember is that I made a point to use his name a few more times. Each time I did, I saw his eyes get clearer and his face get younger. I know this sounds surreal, and it is to me still. But in my mind’s eye, I can see his face grow more youthful every time I say “Bill.” I can see his eyes clarify as we connect on a human level through the simple use of his name.?

I do not remember how much I left in his cup, but I am very sure that the value of what Bill gave me was much more than the dollars I left him.

I return to my family and commit to them that I will learn to use first names, and I will try never to pass another human being without acknowledging them. I will try to walk in their shoes or sit in their space without judgment.

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We all have a story, and we are all members of the family of mankind.