Trading hugs

We had just finished having dinner downtown with old friends. Good food and much better fellowship kept us at the table for almost two hours. As the four of us started our goodbyes on the sidewalk outside, we were approached by a young man seeking help.

“Do you have a little cash you could spare?” he asked.

I nodded and signaled to give me a minute as we wrapped up our conversation. The young man, wearing a big straw cowboy hat, was sitting nearby on the curb. I hurried over to him and gave him the money I had in my wallet.

He stood up and took the bill gratefully and then asked softly, “Could I give you a hug?” I nodded again.

Without hesitation, he took off his wide-brimmed hat and hugged me. I returned the hug and then, as men do, we ended it with a quick release accompanied by a number of firm pats on the back.

The young man reached down, grabbed his hat and his other belongings, and then walked away with a “Thank you” trailing behind him.

I turned back to my friends and we, too, hugged. As we moved toward our vehicles, I could see the young man turning the corner. My mind was flooded with questions. Was he homeless? What events placed him on the street asking for money? Would he eat tonight? Would he be safe tonight?

Some people believe it’s foolhardy to give away money like I did. What if this was just a scam? What if he decides to use the money for alcohol or drugs? What if . . . ? I understand their concerns.

Yet, he asked me two direct questions. And I was in a position to say “yes” to both. I did have money in my wallet that I could spare. And yes, I was happy to receive that hug.

As I looked toward the corner one more time, I could only see his disappearing shadow as he walked west into the setting sun. Of the two of us, he needed the cash more than I. I definitely needed the hug. I’m haunted wondering whether my brief appearance in his day was as significant as his was in mine.

I hope so.