I'm struggling tonight.

I'm mad at myself.

More disappointed, I guess.

The day started well enough. The spectacular morning had me airing out the house, hitting the yard for a mow job... then foostering around in the mud and dirt with my boys, pulling weeds, wondering if I should hose them off in the driveway or strip them in the garage and carry them to the tub. And when Ryan went down for his nap, Jack and I climbed on top of my new "heavenly bed" to watch Return of the Jedi as a breeze of freshly cut grass sort of whispered into the room. Seriously. Does life get any better?

Well. Now. In fact. Yes. It does.

Six scrumptious Chicken McNuggets would be the icing on my cake. I hadn't eaten all day. My mouth was watering for that hot mustard sauce... so when I left the boys for work... I detoured into the McD's drive through lane, pulled up to the order box... and saw him.

A homeless man. Maybe 75. Thin. Gaunt even. White hair and tired eyes. He looked at me and I looked right back. Then he slowly started to walk to my open window, smiled wearily and said simply...

"Ma'am, I'm Hungry."

I've seen him before. Same spot. Same situation.

But I was quicker then. I rolled my window up. Looked the other way. Turned up the radio. Pretended to be talking on the phone. I ignored the problem.

Today, I didn't. I couldn't. I didn't have time.

Maybe I'm tired of bad liars hitting me up at the gas station, telling me tales of their "broken down car" and the few bucks they need to get it towed. Maybe I remember in the back of my head that three people were shot and killed in 2000 in the same drive-through lane. Maybe I just don't trust people anymore.

But this man's eyes got me. He was hungry. His eyes looked hungry.

I asked him what he'd like for lunch, and he didn't much care. He did request a cold drink. I told him I'd meet him on the other side of the drive through. He smiled and turned around to slowly head that way.

When the girl at the window handed me my food, I asked her to put the 2 double cheeseburgers and sweet tea in a separate bag because I'd just bought them for the homeless man who hangs around the restaurant. She hardly acknowledged me, separated the food into two bags, handed them to me and closed the window behind her.

I drove around the corner to find the man sitting on a curb, waiting. I rolled down the window, handed him his sandwiches and drink, smiled and told him to be safe. He smiled back, said thank you, God Bless, and grabbed into the bag to get at his food.

I drove away... and felt awful.

Why did I tell the lady at the window that I'd bought food for this man? What? Like I deserved some medal or congratulations or a big pat on the back for spending a few bucks to give a stranger food? Did I really need that woman's praise or an atta boy for doing the right thing? Should I be congratulated for NOT closing my window? For NOT turning away? For NOT ignoring the problem?

Please.

I'm angry at myself for that.

My parents taught me better.

I remember hearing a homily at church not that long ago about opening up our homes and our hearts to strangers. To give selflessly. To love and appreciate and share.

I don't do enough of that.

It's easy to get mired in the window shopping and lousy mattresses, bad pitches, ear infections, daily discipline and general grind of making ends meet.

I hope next time I see that man -- he doesn't look so tired. Or hungry. If he does, perhaps I'll get out of the drive through lane and park. I'll ask him to come inside and have lunch with me. Bet he has some incredible stories to tell. Bet even more that I could learn a thing or two, listening.