Entertaining Angels

They stand at every corner - these displaced people.
Heads bowed, gloomy faced - and I wonder as I 
hand out another coin - kept in my ashtray,
'What is his history. Does he stand and beg due to
drugs, drink or persecution in his own land?
Did he flee across the border - leaving his family
in hiding, standing here trying to get enough to
buy them food?
Did he flee abuse at home as a child or overcrowding
- choosing the street for his preferred new home,
or did his fathers third wife beat him till he fled broken
and damaged inside?

Did he just 'drop out of life, out of responsibility',
standing here relying on others to meet his daily
needs?
Would he like to bath, does he really want to work,
or is this lifestyle chosen by him and he is content
in it?

Who knows - what drives a man to the streets,
to survive the bitter cold of the winter and the 
bone soaking pelting rain of the summer - replaced
only by the burning African sun when the clouds
drift by - to beg again.

What role do I play in his existence? Am I feeding
his 'substance abuse problem"? Should I rather 
carry sandwiches with me and not a few coins?.
Is he really in need, or is this a fabrication of the 
truth?

Turning to the Word - it says, "Some have entertained
angels and not know it".

All of these thoughts flash past my mind but in the end
with a sigh - I roll down my window, scratch for a 
few more coins - tucked away in the ashtray - and
drop it into the waiting hands of the homeless person.

Looking up - I mutter to my Lord, "Take note Father
another of your angels helped today".