A Day for Darfur Pt.2
7:11AM - racing down my street toward the main road. Yes - I’m a little above the speed limit and weaving a bit in and out of traffic, but I’m not driving recklessly. (I don’t think so anyway) I don’t drive crazy when I’m running behind schedule. I refuse to make hair-raising turns, ride people’s bumpers, or rush pedestrians through crosswalks. Driving like that is just rude to me.
I’m making pretty good time. I’m praying as I approach every traffic light and yes - God is answering my prayers. All I see is a long line of “greens” - allowing my foot to remain heavy on the gas. It’s early so there’s not too much traffic on the road.Â
I’m in downtown Baltimore now and about to get on 95 headed toward Annapolis. I’m sitting at a red light eating my peach flavored oatmeal when a white woman with a blue coat and a cardboard sign begins to walk down the aisle of vehicles. Her sign reads: “I am homeless and hungry. Can you help me? God bless you.” I don’t feel too good about giving the homeless cash these days, but I knew that I could help. I rolled down the window:
