We are passing a young man begging seated on the sidewalk. His dirty jeans and T shirt, like him, have seen better days. Francois reaches into his pocket and hands him a two dollar coin.
"That was kind of you", says Carl.
"Even if I don't have a lot, I like to help when I can. I often feel I'm doing it more for myself than for the panhandler."
"What do you think he's going to spend it on?"
"I don't know, and I really don't care. Some need the money for food, but if he wants to spend it on cigarettes or drugs' or alcohol, it is none of my business."
"So you could be also contributing to their harm."
"Or not. It is like that with the gifts that God gives us. He trusts us to be good stewards of his generosity, even though usually we are not."
"Well said". say I " Here's the café."
"The place is almost empty, save for a table in a corner occupied by an older woman looking at her laptop.
"Would you be my cousin Cynthia", says Carl, approaching her with a shy timid smile.
"And you must be Carl", she says, smiling warmly, glowing rather, as she rises up to shake his hand....
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