love them like Jesus

he wore a cap over his thinning white hair.
his sweater was old, and filthy.
he slowly made his way past a couple seated at a table near the bin.
he held a paper bag with one hand, and with the other, he reached into the bin.
what do people take from bins? scraps of paper? plastic bottles?
this old man, he found his next meal - a bowl of golden, starchy, half-eaten noodles someone had casually dumped into the bin.
the eyes of both the guy and the girl were on him.
the girl didn't stare, she didn't dare.
how could one look at such poverty in the surrounding affluence?
how could one look without acknowledging what she was seeing?
and how could one acknowledge without helping?
she shifted her focus from the old man, to her friend, from her friend to the old man. and back again.
"what are you thinking?"
"of getting food for him"
immediately her response was "yes let's get him something! i really don't want him to eat that."
he sat and looked at her. the old man was walking away.
"what! let's get him something to eat!" she urged him.
"what should i get him?"
"Ruby's cafe!"
"i'll get him two sushis"
"yes ok... go quick!"
"i'll be right back." and he left.

love them like Jesus.