The next morning, Rebecca and I walked to the workshop to check in. In the daylight, we realized just how close to the edge of the Bowery, or the edge of danger, we were. The map online made it look like we were in a safe place, but here, in the daylight, all we could see was a dirty street lined with filthy people in misery. We realized this was not a safe place for two non-citified women to be. We deliberately made no eye contact. Not looking was a challenge, but not judging the street people was even harder. I knew they all had a story, a reason they had ended up there, but I was afraid to engage a single one of them in chit-chat to discover why.

Thankfully, we arrived safely at the event and checked in early. I had spotted a Starbucks across the street from the workshop and talked Rebecca into going there with me. I certainly didn’t feel safe going alone. I was happy to have a comfortable place to enjoy a smoke with my strong coffee. (I did eventually quit smoking two years later.)

It was a sunny autumn Saturday morning in the big city! We sat outside and Rebecca tolerated my smoking by sitting downwind. The courtyard at Starbucks was full. The atmosphere was light. You could hear the hum of the city, along with people engaged in conversation in the courtyard. Lovely!

Suddenly, the collective mood darkened when one particular man entered the courtyard. He looked disheveled in his army jacket and dirty pants. A little white poodle was so alarmed by this man’s presence that he barked nonstop while pulling on the leash held by an obviously startled woman. The disheveled man pulled a silver flask out of his coat pocket and took a big swig. Wow, I thought…it wasn’t even nine a.m. yet.

He screamed at the woman with the dog. “What are YOU looking at?” The woman cowered and turned her eyes away from him. He went from table to table yelling and harassing people. Everyone was frozen with fear. No one spoke to him. I wondered whether someone from Starbucks would come to our rescue or whether a police officer would hear the ruckus and save us from this obviously dangerous man.

I looked at Rebecca and somehow felt safer if we just kept our eyes on each other. Maybe he would go away and not approach our table. I could see him coming up behind Rebecca and I quickly turned my eyes down and away. No eye contact seemed like a good plan to me! It had kept us safe in the Bowery…but next thing I knew, I was staring down at a pair of filthy combat boots. What was I going to do? What was he going to do? He was standing right in front of me, much too close, and he wasn’t moving away. I had to do something.

I raised my eyes to meet his while he towered over me, and I felt very fragile. I smiled genuinely and said, “How are you doing today?”

He took a step back, smiled, laughed and pointed toward our table, “I’d be doing better if you gave me one of them Marlboros.”

“Sure!” I said, then gave him a cigarette and lit it for him.

It was a miraculous and surreal moment because in a flash, I watched as he instantly went from angry to laughing. He took a puff from the cigarette and looked down at me again and said, “You are beautiful!” He walked backward away from me, still facing me, continuing to meet my eyes. I was smiling by this time while the people in the crowded courtyard were silent, stunned, and watching. Even the barking poodle was quiet.

Just before he passed the fence, he turned back to me again and, screaming as he faded from view, “You are beautiful, honey! You ought to be in H O L L Y W O O D!”

After he was gone, once Rebecca got her breath back, she said, “What the *##@ was that?”

I laughed, sighed in relief, and nervously lit another cigarette….

It wasn’t until that evening that the absolute power of that experience hit me. I thought about it…What did that man want? What did he expect to gain by harassing and intimidating the people in that courtyard? One could easily think it was attention, or that is just how he entertained himself. I believe those answers are reasonable assumptions. I think he was hungry. Not for food, though. Maybe he was hungry for someone to acknowledge his presence as a human being and look him in the eyes? Maybe he was there to teach us to face our judgment and indifference to others?

What did I get from the experience? I was part of something extraordinary. I received the cure for indifference from a disheveled man in combat boots. And when I look back at that event today, twenty long years later, I can clearly acknowledge that the homeless man was my teacher.

“Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” ―Hebrews 13:2

Join me. Pause, reflect and let peace be with you.

Listen to this wonderful song from Avi Kaplan.

That question weighs heavily on my mind and heart right now. For the past three years, I have been living with uncertainty.

This feeling arises from being categorized as “high-risk” for developing breast cancer. It all started three years ago when I received my first suspicious mammogram results. Two years ago, I underwent my first biopsy, followed by a lumpectomy, which revealed a precancerous mass and further classified me into that high-risk group.

The uncertainty is overwhelming: Will another mass appear? Will the upcoming tests reveal any changes or growth in the mass over the past six months? I truly don’t know. Over the last three years, I have undergone five rounds of testing. It is very likely that I will have to face the same process again, which includes a mammogram, a diagnostic mammogram, an MRI, and possibly a biopsy. I keep reminding myself that going through these tests does not automatically mean I have breast cancer. The reality is that I have not been diagnosed with breast cancer; I merely have markers that require monitoring every six months.

Three years of uncertainty is a long time. I feel very fortunate because, during a significant part of my journey, I had the opportunity to work with Tish Litchfield on her book, A Miracle Within You: Paddling Through Cancer. Tish has become such a dear friend, and her writing has been incredibly helpful to me. Reading her wisdom about how she managed her healing process, made decisions regarding her treatment, and maintained a positive outlook has made a positive impact on my attitude.

Once again, I find myself facing the gauntlet of the testing cycle. Despite all my efforts to stay positive, I am struggling with a sense of frustration regarding this in-depth monitoring process. Over the past six months, I’ve successfully managed to leave behind my fears and anxieties about the latest mass testing by focusing on joyful things, such as the trip Tom and I took to Greece and Albania, the birth of our eighth grandchild, beautiful Gemma, and my achievement in publishing The Journey of the Visionary Writer. However, despite my awareness, a cloud of uncertainty has returned, enveloping me like fog and making it difficult to concentrate on the positive aspects of life.