I love stepping out the front door of Mama Jo’s to take a break from the kitchen—just to sit on the bench outside and refresh my sense of gratitude and appreciation for where I am in that moment. Listening to crowing roosters and birds chirping their good morning messages centers me. It grounds me in the place I have loved so much.
Saturday mornings are the best. There’s not much going on around town at 6:30 in the morning on Main Street. Yesterday was one of those mornings.
I stepped outside, coffee in hand, simply enjoying my morning ritual, when I noticed a small woman pushing a grocery cart apparently loaded with her worldly possessions. Perched on top was a small dog as she made her way north along the highway that passes my building.
I watched her for several moments, noticing her struggle to push the cart, alone in her world, and felt compelled to ask if she would like a cinnamon roll and some coffee. My heart felt overwhelmed with emotions I can hardly describe—sadness, loneliness, hopelessness—along with the feeling that she needed not just a roll or a drink, but perhaps a moment to feel human. To experience acknowledgment.
Her name is Michelle. Her dog's name is Tiny.
I served her two cinnamon rolls and a cup of coffee and sat outside on the porch with her as she ate. In that simple moment, I felt grateful and deeply connected to another human being.
I am humbled yet again.
