The Things We Walk Past

Every Friday, I follow a simple routine: I pack two grocery bags with basic items (rice, milk, sugar, yogurt, the usual).

One bag goes to a spiritual place. The second goes to someone who needs it more than I do.

It keeps me balanced. And honestly, it keeps me from drifting too far into my own head.

This week I’m in Iowa visiting my family for the Thanksgiving holiday and I told my sister I needed to find a shelter to drop off the groceries I brought. I wanted to keep my Friday routine going. She looked at me and said:

“Skip the shelter today.
Across the street from my wine store, there’s an elderly homeless woman.
She’s lost everything. Give it to her instead.”

So on Friday evening, I went.

I didn’t find her. I only saw her entire life packed into a shopping cart (blankets, bags, a cooler, a pillow, and small things she’s clearly holding onto because they’re all she has left).

Seeing that hit me harder than I expected.

In one moment, every complaint I’ve had recently (the stress, the pressure, the frustration, the comparisons) felt small.

Not because my problems aren’t real.
But because when you’re standing next to someone else’s version of survival, your perspective shifts very fast.

I left all the groceries in her cart and walked back thinking about how often we forget what we already have, until we’re reminded by someone who has almost nothing, yet is still standing.

This Thanksgiving, I’m grateful.
Not because life is perfect (whose life is?) but because there is still so much to give, so much to appreciate, and so many ways to show up without needing anything back.

If you’re reading this, I hope today gives you one small moment of clarity, the kind that shifts your perspective just enough to soften the day.

Sometimes the most grounding lessons come from the most unexpected places.

Hope you had a lovely Thanksgiving.

Dimple