More often than not, I see young people experiencing homelessness on our streets while I’m going to and from work. The ones I see rarely have signs asking for help, and their pets are usually in better shape than themselves.

More often than not, I see young people experiencing homelessness on our streets while I’m going to and from work. The ones I see rarely have signs asking for help, and their pets are usually in better shape than themselves.

I’ve always thought about helping out someday but never quite knew how to approach it. One afternoon, I was walking to the bus stop when I noticed a young couple with a dog. The couple appeared quite disheveled and looked undernourished, but I noticed that the dog was eating while they weren’t.

This caught my attention because I would have expected their own needs to come first, not the dog’s. Something about their care for the animal despite their own situation moved me, and I found myself stopping to talk with them.

What I thought would be a brief five-minute conversation turned into over thirty minutes of genuine connection. I learned about their journey, their struggles, and their unwavering love for their dog, who they considered family. Eventually, I asked if they needed some help.

I offered to take them to my house so they could shower and enjoy a proper meal, but they both very politely declined. I tried for a little longer to convince them to accept my offer, but they remained firm in their refusal, maintaining their dignity and independence.

When I got home, I couldn’t stop thinking about them. I went through my closet and gathered everything I no longer wore, along with a few warm blankets. I also called my favorite restaurant and ordered three substantial, nourishing meals.

I went back out looking for them and found them in the same spot. I gave them everything I had brought, along with $50 and my phone number and address (perhaps not the wisest decision, but they seemed genuinely good-hearted).

Their gratitude was overwhelming—the young woman was moved to tears and cried for a good fifteen minutes afterward. I kept them company for a while longer before heading home, feeling a mixture of emotions I couldn’t quite name.

Three weeks later, I received a postcard from California. I was initially confused since I didn’t know anyone living there. It was from the couple, expressing their deep appreciation. They wrote that they still had most of the items I’d given them and thanked me for the food, which had sustained them for an entire week.

The experience was profoundly humbling, and I’m grateful I followed my instinct to help. Unfortunately, during a later move, my roommate accidentally threw away a box of my keepsakes, including that precious postcard, mistaking it for a collection of old papers.

Now, I occasionally buy an extra burger or sandwich when getting fast food and offer it to someone who appears to need it. It’s a small gesture that costs little but can mean so much to someone going hungry. If you’ve never tried it, I’d encourage you to consider it sometime—the feeling of making even a small difference in someone’s day is truly rewarding.

What struck me most about this experience wasn’t just the act of giving, but the connection formed in those moments. Behind every person experiencing homelessness is a unique story, dreams, and often a resilience that’s remarkable. That couple’s devotion to their dog, prioritizing its needs above their own, revealed a depth of character that challenged my preconceptions.

Sometimes the most meaningful help isn’t what we initially think to offer. While shelter and money matter, so does recognizing someone’s humanity and dignity. That postcard from California remains one of the most valuable things I’ve ever “received,” even though the physical card is gone—a reminder that compassion creates ripples we may never fully see.