Sally's Delivery of Hope

Every time I visit the gritty city, I look for someone special. One time it was a homeless vet with a sign that said, “Look, I’m a man not a monster".  Another time it was an older woman dispensing cheerful morning greetings to all the walking commuters as she peddled cheap newspapers. This time it was Sally.





Sally’s daily route takes her down dark alleys—long after paying customers go home. Each night she loads restaurant leftovers into her old dependable hatchback. Seeing a man with vacant eyes slumped in a doorway, she offers a sandwich. Hope flickers in his rummy eyes. Smiling at him, she drives away.

She takes her nightly bounty to the Salvation Army mission where she carefully parcels every last morsel into take-out containers. Mornings and late afternoons, she walks the streets—handing out hope. 

No one knows Sally’s story, but what she cares about most is her daily route. She says she doesn’t have money to give away, but she has lots of time. To her, everyone deserves some hope and she intends to deliver it as long as she can.

Sally gave me hope too, and a lot to think about.


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