I was in my 30's, and had ended up losing everything, lost my family due to tragic circumstance, ended up with two types of cancer, and was homeless ( I had basically just given up on life).
I had decided that cancer was my death sentence and had relegated myself to living in the woods ( Bad choice, it turned out to be the coldest winter on record in my area for 30 years ).
One day, I had a few dollars in my pocket, ( Literally ) and I schlepped down to McD's ( Something I normally avoid like the plague ) because I had gotten tired of crawling into dumpsters looking for food.
I bought several burgers, and as I sat in the corner, observing the lunchtime crowd come and go, I noticed a man come in, and go from person to person, engaging each in a short conversation then moving to the next.
He was trying to sell some posters he had hand drawn, but there were no takers.
He looked over, saw me watching, then came over to give me his sales pitch. I calmly listened to his pitch, which was essentially " I'm hungry, I'm trying to sell these so I can get some food. "
Now,... I am well familiar with the rough life of being homeless, as not only was I myself homeless at the time, I had spent most of my teen years on the streets, hooked on drugs, being a hellion child, etc, but ,..I also know that due to outreach programs, churches, and food banks, that even if one is homeless in my town, 3 squares a day is easily had for free, so there's no reason to sell things to eat.
So, I just gave him 2 burgers, which he sat down and inhaled, and after he was finished, I asked what his story was, how he'd ended up in this situation ( I hadn't told him I was also not doing great ), and he told a tale I've seen and lived firsthand, and that is an addiction to crack ( My teen years ).
He had been a successful contractor, had his own business, 20 or so employees, married, kids, and had lost it all in a few short months.
I felt so bad for this man, because I knew what it was like to end up at the bottom, so I in turn told him my story, I admitted to being homeless, sick, etc, and for some reason he was just shocked that I would have given him 2/3 of my food when I myself was scraping bottom.
We sat and talked for some time, perhaps 45 minutes, and he told me of wanting to get his life back together, and wanting to go to school to become an architect, I wished him luck and we parted ways.
I trundled back to my little shelter I had built in the woods, and as I sat there, looking out of the doorway and watching the birds eat ( I always feed the birds ), I started to think about what was in front of me.
Little tiny fragile birds, walking around in the snow, in temperatures that were about -10f ....I was partially frozen, yet these little birds were hopping around, happily chirping, seemingly without a care in the world, oblivious to the harsh environment I found myself surrounded by.
I thought to myself, " That's true grit right there, why am I not as tough as a little bird ? "
Then, slowly, the birds had their fill and embarked on their daily flights, leaving me to my silence, but more importantly, the question in my mind.
As I pondered, one small sparrow landed in front of me to feed, and I immediately thought it odd, as these birds usually travel in groups, with family and friends.
This particular sparrow, had a deformity, a club foot, and was basically hobbling around with one foot, and had been ostracized from it's community ( Common with animals in the wild when one has a deformity ).
Realistically, in the wild, animals that have deformities / injuries don't fare that well, they end up being eaten, or die from their inability to feed themselves.
Then, I thought " Why am I not as tough as THAT sparrow ? ", because that was the one I really identified with.
This was the day when I decided I could not give up.
It took several months to eventually find two jobs, then maintain them all the while keeping it a secret that I was living in the woods, had cancer, etc.
I just kept my nose to the wheel and moved on, always remembering that one sparrow.
Now during this time of trying to get it back together, I would occasionally run into the man I met in McDonalds, in the library, where he would come to study ( He had found a residence, gotten stable, then entered school to become an architect ) and every few weeks I would run into him in the library.
I eventually regained my hold on life, and the last time I ran into him, he had just become a certified architect and was getting back together with his family
All that from a few cheap hamburgers and a crippled sparrow, who would have thunk it.
