Everyone has a story. Every day we see people and assume we know at least part of their story. We consider our assumptions fact enabling us to judge people around us. We work diligently at fitting a label to neatly classify them. Then we go on our merry way; if only we knew the whole story. If only we took the time to discover it. How much richer might our lives be? Might their lives be? I’m am so very grateful that some people take the time to not only understand the stories, but to help us understand too. It’s getting colder out. I think I might have a few old coats that want to feel needed again. It’s easy to give them to charity and think no more of it… but to hand it to the person who will be kept warm by it. There is a humanness in that act that seems to have so much more meaning. I used to think that would be embarrassing to the receiver, to get a “hand out”. But now I realize that the “hand” is the connection that reminds us we are all part of the same race… the human race. And whether we want to accept it or believe it… it could just as easily be you or me in need of that hand tomorrow.