Tonight, while sitting down to eat dinner at Waffle King, I noticed an older man at the door. It was raining outside, and he was drenched from head to toe. In his hand, he carried a small bucket labeled “Mentally Disabled Veterans.” Around his neck hung a pair of worn dog tags — quiet proof of the life he had once lived.

I watched him struggle his way inside and take a seat in the booth just ahead of me. A waitress came over to take his order. When she asked what he wanted, his reply was simple, almost painful: “Whatever three dollars will get me.”

In that moment, my heart sank. Sure, there are people who take advantage, but something about him — his quiet dignity, the way he carried himself, his hesitation — told me this man was exactly who he said he was. He wasn’t out to fool anyone. He simply needed a little kindness.

When I finished my meal, I walked to the cashier and quietly paid for his dinner. Then, before leaving, I slipped thirty dollars onto his table, hoping it might make the night a little easier for him. At first, he resisted, not wanting to take money from someone younger. But then he looked me in the eye, shook my hand firmly, and said words that stopped me in my tracks:

“Your parents would be proud of the son they’ve raised.”

That single sentence meant more than I can say.

We often go through life rushing, busy with our own troubles, but sometimes we’re handed moments like this — chances to help, to give, to be the kind of person we hope others would be for us.

So here’s a reminder: take a minute, if you can, to help someone out. You never know what battle they’ve fought, what struggles they’re carrying, or when the day might come that you’ll need someone’s kindness, too.

Tonight, I left Waffle King not just with a full stomach, but with a fuller heart — and a deeper gratitude for the family and values that taught me the importance of giving.