I didn't write last night, which feels strange. I almost feel guilty. I just wasn't sure of what to write and was so very tired.
The morning began with pounding the pavement in search of hungry and needy people in town. In honour of Mandela Day we distributed soup. I had mixed feeling about serving the needy only once a year, I know the street people who live right outside my office definitely got a few different meals yesterday. Serving the needy isn't an easy thing. What is enough? What is the right way?
Later in the day I had some deep conversations with some colleagues, not about the needy, but about our lives. I'm amazed when people open up, and they really seem to open up to me. I suppose I'm quite honest and open, so it puts others at ease. Its actually such an honour and privilege to hear the stories of people around me.
These things have been crashing against each other in my mind. That everyone has a story and a need of sorts. I really need to work on my plan of gathering stories...
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