When I pulled around to the small parking area behind my apartment complex this evening, there was a woman messing around with some pieces of cardboard. I don't know if I've seen her there before, because frankly there are always people - homeless and not - scavenging things from the recycle bins and dumpster.
I got out of my car and had just opened the back door to retrieve the bag of cat food I had bought today when I heard a soft voice saying, "Ma'am, do you have..."
The rest was mumbled, and I had to ask the woman to repeat it. She was nervous, clearly hesitant to ask for anything, but the need was too great for her to ignore.
"Do you have any kind of blanket?" She pointed to her shoes, which didn't appear to be in bad shape but were clearly not appropriate for the wet, cool Portland winter. "My feet are freezing."
I don't have any extra blankets - I've been meaning to check a thrift store for some old ones, actually - so I cast about in my mind for a substitute. "What about towels?" I asked. "I have some extra towels. Would that work for what you want to do?"
She smiled wearily. "Anything you have, ma'am. I just need something." She gestured toward the discarded cardboard. "I tried to use cardboard to... It didn't work."
I told her I'd go get the towels. "Don't forget to close your car door," she reminded me.
I would have invited her in, wanted to, actually, but I have a dog who doesn't react well to strangers. I found a pair of matching, fluffy hand towels I don't really use and hurried back outside.
"I don't wanna take your good..." she protested quietly. She had a tendency to end her sentences in gradually less audible mutterings, but I understood.
"It's okay. These are old." I handed them to her. She took them with a look of awe that made me feel ashamed, as though I were passing off forged artwork to a gullible collector. "Will these work? Do I need to get a pair of scissors so we can cut them down to a different shape or size?"
She almost laughed. "Oh, I love you! No, these are fine. You don't need to... I just need something... My feet are just freezing..." She continued in a disjointed manner, the details of which eluded me, although I got the gist easily enough. I asked if she had tried to find a pair of warmer shoes, and eventually, she showed me what she was wearing were those backless shoes.
No wonder her feet were freezing. And suddenly, it occurred to me that when I was looking for something to make her shoes warmer, I should have been looking to help her replace the damned shoes.
"I have an old, old pair of leather sneakers," I told her. "You want me to go get them?"
She shook her head slightly, muttering, clearly feeling that I'd already gone to more trouble than she'd expected, but I could see that she wanted to say yes. "I'll go get them."
I returned with a pair of older, worn but still decent-looking Avia sneakers. The woman took them and looked them over. "Oh, these are... oh, these are really..." I couldn't understand the words, but it was clear that she was happy.
She looked up, smiling, and held her hand up, vertically, almost as though beckoning a high-five. "I'm Valerie."
I reached out and grasped her hand. It closed tightly around the clearly unexpected contact. I told her my name. Valerie pulled my hand to her face and thanked me. "God bless you."
I pulled her into an embrace and told her she was welcome.
"I'm gonna go home now and..." She trailed off into mumbling as she started back down the walk toward the alley. I wished her good luck.
Then I came into my warm apartment and bawled like a baby.
UPDATE: I just want to tell you all how deeply moved I have been by your responses in the comments. My eyes have been wet the whole time people have been commenting and my heart is so full it almost hurts.
Please, if you are inspired or moved by this story, make a pledge tonight to do something, anything tomorrow for someone in need. As this story makes clear, you don't need money or even anything expensive. A couple of people have mentioned that just saying "hi" or otherwise acknowledging homeless or underprivileged people lets them know that someone sees them, cares about them.
Do it for them, do it for yourself.
UPDATE 2: I'm sorry that I have left so many of the more recent comments without a reply, but I'm just so emotional that it's hard to formulate replies that make sense. Please know that I am reading every one of your comments, and I thank you all more than I can express in my current condition. :)