If life's about the journey, does it matter how many bathroom breaks you take along the way?

Not long ago, I found myself rushing to the grocery store to get something one of my kids needed the next day for school. It was late and I was tired, preoccupied, and annoyed. Like most moms, I was running behind an endless to-do list that seemed to square itself and multiply whenever I wasn’t looking. Snow swirled outside, it was an unusually frigid night, and a humid chill was biting, snapping, and pushing people indoors. All I wanted to do was get what I needed, check out, and go home.

Turning down the frozen food aisle, I came upon a young boy, about my son’s age, and an old man. The man was huge; well over six feet tall, unshaven, wearing dirty old jeans, suspenders, and an untucked shirt.

The boy? Small. Cowering. A little disheveled as he gazed up at the man while simultaneously trying to avoid meeting the harsh gaze in his eyes. He reached for a frozen pizza, and the old man smacked it out of his hand, mocked his sagging posture, and demanded, “What do you think I am, an ATM?”

The boy looked down at his feet and didn’t say a word.

In that moment, I knew something was wrong.

I slowed down, eased up close, cleared my throat, and tried to make myself known. The old man realized I was there, made eye contact, and didn’t smile. I didn’t smile back. Then he grabbed the boy by the shoulder, threw a glare in my direction, and dragged him toward the door.

I felt a mixture of emotions in that moment…anger, confusion, pain, sadness…but the one that overwhelmed me and now makes me feel ashamed?


That man scared me, and in a split second I used fear to assess and rationalize what I was about to not do…my husband was out of town, the kids were home alone, and the storm outside was getting worse. In an attempt to justify my inaction, I convinced myself that the old man was probably the boy’s grandfather, unemployed, and having a bad day.

Except my gut told me that wasn’t the case. The little boy needed help, and I didn’t extend my hand.

I’d give anything to have that moment in the grocery store back, to actually listen to my sixth sense instead of brushing it aside, to have made a different choice. But it’s gone. Left alone, the voice of indecision becomes that of regret, and it doesn’t go away.

I’m now haunted by that innocent child in the grocery store, wondering where he is, and at the same time, who I failed to be. The Challenge for Day Fifteen is to speak for someone who can’t speak for themselves. I realize this opportunity may not present itself today, but it will in the not too distant future. Whether it’s helping an elderly woman who’s struggling to get her groceries from the cart to her car, saying “hi” to a kid at school who seems to always end up on the wrong side of everyone’s jokes, or diffusing a tense situation with a smile, whenever you take the opportunity to help someone who’s in a worse place than you, you give them a voice.

If you’d like to help an innocent child, please visit

I, Gemini Girl, have interrupted my non-existent programming to bring you the 25 Days of Giving Challenge. Please join me in my quest, over the next 25 days, to make people happy. I’ll share stories of giving escapades that will be sure to wow, delight, or at least not annoy anyone who chooses to participate. Each Day of Giving will be conveniently brought to you via email if you follow this blog. And if you’re already a follower? Pass it onto your friends. If we work together we can change the world, or at least dramatically improve my hit ratio.

8 thoughts on “25 Days of Giving Day Fifteen: Speak Up for Someone Who Can’t Speak for Themselves

  1. Crazy Hon says:

    You sure are a great human being and I am sure you’re going to get opportunities in the future to rectify your mistake. What you did was justified, you are an amazing human being that you are feeling bad about it.
    May God bless that child where so ever he is.

    1. I’m no better of a human being than you. Thank you for the kind words. =) I hope that little boy is O.K. too…maybe good thoughts will bring good things his way.

  2. Anonymous says:

    You wrote of this story a few years back or one similar to it, and I still think of it often. Anytime I hear of a child or animal that is being mistreated it breaks my heart. Thank you for sharing – I love all your words of wisdom!

    1. Yes. If I recycle my own words is it still plagiarism?

  3. aFrankAngle says:

    A tough challenge, but a worthy one.

    1. Thank you Frank, I appreciate your read and comment.

  4. jalsails says:

    I was climbing up the ever too steep chairs of a very old school in KC – coming down – probably from the GED program upstairs – was a young Mom hauling her infant swaddled in lots of blankets, followed by 2 little boys. The youngest looked about 2-ish. He was whimpering, carrying a bag of groceries nearly as big has him. I thought of this blog, set down my things, and calmly took his hand and helped him and his not so big brother down the stairs. He was just plain scared. The mom frowned at first – nodded ever so slightly – but finally smiled when I wished her a very merry Christmas with her beautiful children. Thanks Stacie – it made my day.

    1. Your comment gave me chills, Jeri. I’m not sure who the real winner is with random acts of kindness…the giver or the givee (is that a word?). Maybe it’s just a win-win, the best kind of all. Thank you for reading, doing, and taking the time to comment. =)

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