SUCCOR THE WEAK...

Today as I was driving down the road, I passed a young, male hitchhiker. The compassionate side of me wanted to stop and offer this young man a ride. The cautious side of me was prompted to pass him by, and so I did. The temparature was in the single digits. It was COLD outside. I couldn't help but think of this young man, not quite suitably dressed for the outside elements. I wondered what his life must be like. How did he get to this point? I wished that I could've picked him up and taken him to where he needed to be. It brought back one particular memory of my childhood. I was around 10 years old. My mother was raising 7 biological children along with multiple foster children. We were driving home from church one Sunday in a complete blizzard. I remembered being huddled in our big blue cancer van (we called it the cancer van because of the many rust spots that it had) together, all 11 or so of us because there was no heat. We were anxious to get home to warm up in our modestly quaint home. (and by warming up, I mean putting on about 7 more layers) The storm was so intense that you couldn't see more than a couple feet in front of you. My mother was hunched up close to the wheel, squinching (is that even a word?) her eyes in hopes of seeing through the white madness. We were 10 minutes from home when we came upon an elderly man hitchhiking. He was SCARY looking. He had many layers of dirty clothes, an unkempt, discolored beard and a stench that was eye watering. My mother, as was true to her character, couldn't resist pulling over to pick up this man out of the harsh weather. We were APPALLED and totally shocked. (maybe even a little mad) My dad was in some kind of leadership position at church at the time so he wasn't with us. There is NO WAY that dad would have let mom do this had he been there. BUT...that was the type of person my mother was. She brought him home and we fed him a warm, homemade meal. He was SO grateful, perhaps humbled by my mother's generosity. He didn't know how to pay us back for our kindness and so he sang to us. He had a beautiful voice. My mother loved to hear him sing. He came to visit us a few more times after that day until he finally passed away. I will always be grateful for that experience. My heart, at the young age of 10, was changed for good. Here I am, 25 years later. I couldn't help but think back to that time when we picked up that hitchhiker out of the blizzard. I wished I could've followed in my mother's footsteps today. I wish that I felt safe enough to pick up a complete stranger, to take him out of the cold, perhaps give him a warm, homemade meal. Times have changed since that day my mother picked up that man, as well as my heart. She has taught me to "succor the weak, lift up the hands which hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees", I just find other ways to do so.