I meant to write for ten minutes a day in my blog. I have failed in this goal. Failed miserably? Should the word miserable be attached to a simple, petty goal like this that does not get met? No. If I must judge myself, I should be better off doing it on things I have accomplished, not tiny failures.
My finest personal moment was when I was walking out of Winn Dixie and I saw two young runaways huddled outside. Cold. The girl had a sleeveless top on. She was so much taller than me, but huddled down by the wall, beside a vending machine. The boy with her looked stressed. I had my favorite sweatshirt on. I only had one other. I’ve never had much, in things or in money. But before I was half-way across the parking lot I knew I was wearing the solution to her problem. So I turned around and went over. I took it off and handed it to her and told her to stay warm. I knew they were runaways because they came to eat at a shelter where I volunteered I walked back to my friend’s apartment and got the boy a sweatshirt from her. Ran back and gave it to him.
There was need, and I filled it. So be silent, harsh voice that can only see my failures. I won that day. I heard a whisper that was, “Just keep walking. Its not your problem. You’d give away your favorite sweatshirt? Really?”
I kicked that voice to the curb that day.
I don’t fail. I have setbacks.