Houston traffic is rarely kind. You just want to get home and get out of the car and away from all of the tons of metal that try to kill you on the way. Most of us are on autopilot, our thoughts already home and wondering what’s for dinner.
About a half mile from home, I saw her. She wasn’t young, but her circumstances could have made her look older than she is. Her head and shoulders were covered with a terracotta colored scarf, and she carried a bunch of wilted flowers in one hand and a sign that said she was a single mum of three kids needing help with food and rent.
As I’ve written before, I have had to choose between gas, groceries and electricity before. I know how hard it is to make ends meet in a system that sets up women to have to depend on others and fight harder than most to achieve financial security.
I see a lot of people on the streets with signs. This woman, however, was different. I looked at the sun-wrinkled face behind the smile she wore. I saw the divine in her. Her personhood. I saw her.
It was still over 90 degrees and I could tell she’d been out there a while in the heat, trying to get enough money to make it through one more day.
I rarely carry cash, but recently, I was paid back for something in cash and I had that in my wallet. I reached out to give her the money, and she gave me two flowers and tears ran down her face. I saw her, and she’d been seen.



















