Footprints in the Wind sm # 721

Footprints in the Windsm # 721

The coffee shop

People are coming and going, getting their drug to start them pumping. Pumping what? Do they find friends here? Sometimes. Do they find Its here—people to buy their products, services, them?

Did they see the beggars by the door? What beggars by the door? I thought the proprietor ran a better shop than that, making sure those with their hands out, the scruffy and unkempt were kept at a distance. The outwardly homeless are, for sure. You have to drive past them to get to this trendy joint. What neighborhoods do you drive through? Who haunts the bus stops and seamier sides of town? Do you nod to them, wave, roll down your window and say Hello? Neither do I. Of course. But why not?

Remember the people we left at the door? The people who have houses, but still homeless? Perhaps yourself: hoping someone notices you, says Hello, engages with you.

Some of us go into the coffee shop, head down; some are scanning for a home for their hearts. Some don’t really know why they are there; some just want to get through one more day.

A tragedy in one act, no villains, no heroes, no heroines. No plot.

Such are our lives at the coffee shop, circa this year.

Yet, is it so written? Is there no choice? Is there no vision? What could this place be? Who could we be—not just you and not just me and not just those over there, but us. Together. Is there a role for an “us?”

A memorable vision

Jack goes into the coffee shop for his morning latte. Jill is sitting, sipping tea, browsing a Website, and waves him over. “You seem agitated, Jack.” “Yeah, a few minutes ago, I saw a cop putting an Hispanic man in handcuffs. This idea of arresting people because of where they were born bothers me.” “Yeah, but what can we do about it?” “We can write it down, take pictures, hear peoples’ stories, ask others to listen. This is our country, our community. If not us, who? Wanna help?”

Beauty, truth, good are born of such conversations. Love.

All because someone dared to give voice to their vision. To look to see larger. Love.

Hate and fear will still rule many hearts. No matter. Love.


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Published in: FootprintsintheWind/sm | on November 23rd, 2006 | No Comments »

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