The day has broken in London town. From high above on the 8th floor I watch the bustling below. People are scurrying, the red double decker buses dotting the roadways are rolling along. It is a beehive of activity so vibrant and alive in this early hour of the day.
Last night as we searched for our keys in the bitter cold wind a homeless man approached asking for some small change to get a cup of warm coffee. He was in his forties and cold and sad. His deep dark eyes held his embarrassment at having to beg, especially from two elder women. How brave of him to swallow his pride and dignity to approach us, or maybe he held his dignity while he drew near. Which one it is I won’t know, as I didn’t ask. I choose to believe it was the latter, even though his eyes held haunted sadness.
What a contrast this morning’s scene is from last night’s. The wind has died down and the sun shines bringing its warmth. As I watch the rushing crowds below I think of the homeless man from last night and I am flooded with compassion. I hope he has found warmth and a place to continue his journey with dignity.