Chocolate for a Woman's Blessings
Chapter One: Goodie Bags from the Heart
Nineteen years old and newly married. I remember waving goodbye to my husband one hot summer day while standing on the front porch of our small home in California. As I stood outside, I noticed the saddest sight across the street in the fast-food parking lot. He appeared to be homeless in his grubby, dirty clothes and long gray hair. In the heat of the day, he wore a tattered black jacket that I'm sure must have been one of his most treasured possessions that kept him warm in the cooler months. His fiercely thick gray beard hid part of his face, and frankly he looked quite frightening to me. I quickly turned and stepped into the house, shutting and locking the door behind me.
As I stood at my living room window staring in bewilderment, he rummaged through the garbage cans in the parking lot. Wrappers, cups, napkins -- he went through all of it in hopes of finding food, and when he did find a morsel or two, it looked as though he had found a Thanksgiving dinner. Not feeling afraid any longer, I wondered just how long it had been since this poor man had had a decent meal.
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