It happened on December 23. Crowds battled the cold and each other for last minute gifts.
I noticed a woman on the sidewalk. She wore a greasy Notre Dame sweatshirt. She was holding an empty can. However, she remained happy, smiled at everyone who walked past.
“Sir,” she said, “please help me.”
“Don’t have,” I said. I held out my hands.
I began to walk away. As I did she said: “Why is that?”
“Look,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I was recently laid off. Philip Morris. I was an accountant there.”
“Sorry to hear. “Interview today?”
“Yes, how did you guess?”
“You’re dressed nice. And don’t worry about the job.”
“I really don’t have any money, you know.”
I was fascinated with this woman, but I also pitied her. Being homeless, how come she wasn’t depressed?
“What is your name?” I said.
“Matthew. So I was thinking…”
I stopped myself. What am I doing?
I finally got the words out: “Do you want to spend Christmas at my house?” I think my wife and two girls would enjoy meeting you.”
During Christmas dinner, Mable grabbed my wife’s hand and mine. “Your goodness has saved you,” she said.
“My wife and I both went to bed wondering what Mable meant by that.
The next morning Mable was gone. A few days after that, the Capitals hockey team hired me as an account executive.