Give us this day our daily bread.

If you have never read my blog but only look at pictures... please read this.

Today I walked to the post office to check the mail. I was walking back to my house one foot in front of the other staring at the ground in my own little world. I past a man who put his hand to his mouth and looked at me with tears in his eyes. "Dabo", he said. Bread. "Dabo yellenim.... coy." I don't have bread... wait. I went to the nearest place that sold bread, passing 2 other young boys along the way who were in need of food. Again I said wait. Then I past another woman in a full black burka... "salamalakum" (I have no idea how to spell that) I said and smiled. I'll pretend I saw her smile back through her covering. So I bought 4 big rolls of bread and headed back to the old man. I past the 2 young boys and gave each of them a roll. They smiled big and sat down immediately to dine together. The older man saw me in the distance and began limping toward me. I gave him the bag with the 2 rolls in it and he began to weep. "Semay mahno?" What is your name? "Berano", he mumbled.... I strained to hear him. "Lauren ibalahlo" I said, introducing myself. "Ena Xabier yeastaline". And may the Father provide for you." I put my hand on his shoulder and smiled at him as tears poured over his cheeks. I have given plenty of people bread before.... in the states and out of the states. I have never witnessed someone weeping from 2 rolls of bread. Weeping in gratitude for bread. "Give us this day our daily bread." I had to keep myself from losing it on the street with this man. The inside of me twisted in a way that it never has... and I can confidently say that I will never be the same after a short 5 minutes of my life with one person who had nothing, yet everything, to offer me.