Dignity, dreams should never be silenced

I learned a thing or two last week — knowledge I wasn't trying for — but I'm glad to have it. 

I was on my way to a weekly women's gathering at church when I passed by a woman standing alone in a park. Something didn't seem quite right. I drove on, but that “still, small voice” called me to circle the block and go back. 

She was in a different spot, but still there. As I walked toward her up near the park restroom, I realized she was homeless. A child's stroller was piled with her stuff and she had a cat in a carrier. I asked if everything was OK. She said, “No, it's not.” 

We talked for a short bit. Her thoughts jumped around. Then she was done with interaction. She began saying she was tired of telling her story over and over and over. She had volunteered most of it. Before I knew it a cussing tirade was raining on me — followed by loud shouting, “Go away! Go away! Go away!” 

I hated to leave her there sobbing, but felt I should do as she wanted. During my meeting I decided I was going back. When I walked toward her again, she came to me. We met in the grass, and she said, “I'm sorry for what I did.” 

I asked if she'd like to go to lunch and thrift store shopping for some of the things she'd mentioned earlier she needed. She agreed, loading a duffel and her cat into the back seat of my car. It was at lunch I unknowingly made a huge gaffe.

I mentioned grandchildren. She had children, but said she'd always wanted to be a grandmother. I casually said, “Some people have grandchildren, and some don't.” I meant to offer solace in that she was not alone in her circumstance.  

Suddenly she was ready to go, her sandwich half eaten. We headed for the thrift shop, where she found multiple items she could use, mainly clothing. I noticed she looked at the displays of home decor goods — pretty dishes and tabletop accents. 

When I dropped her at the park she gave me a scenario — something about a car accident and someone was killed and would I say, “Well, some people don't make it,” or words to that effect. Horrified I said, “No, I would not!” 

She then basically said that's what I had done at lunch, blown off her desire to be a grandma and that is why she shut down. She trusted me just a little, and I slammed the door. It was my turn to say, “I'm sorry.” As she walked from the car, thanking me for the clothing — a middle-aged woman carrying her comfort cat, and all she owned. “You've taught me a lot,” I called as she left. 

Hopefully, though I bombed on dialogue, this woman will know I did care. A purchase fell from her bag in the back seat that neither of us noticed so I have a reason to see her again — if I can find her. 

Mainly I want to get to know her more — share some time. Because dignity should never be silenced, and dreams should always be heard. 

Carol Shirk Knapp writes the "Preacher's Kid" column.