It was a simple school project: complete an act of service for someone else.
Our plan to take some home cooked food to homeless people went wrong when the men with cardboard signs who are on a certain corner nearly every day weren't there.
The kids and I decided to make and deliver cookies to various neighbors instead.
In one house lives an elderly couple who we have waved to and said hello to for nearly two years. All I could tell you about them is that they keep an immaculate lawn.
The lady walked over today with tears in her eyes to say thank you for the cookies my son had brought to them. She figured we had done that because we knew what was going on in their house. I didn't know and of course was immediately concerned.
She began telling me how their young grandson, who lived here in town, had just taken his own life a few days ago. They have understandably been distraught.
I hugged her and told her how terribly sorry I was to hear that. I told her we would be praying for them. At that moment rain began pouring down on us so we both ran to our own houses.
And now the curtains in their sparkly clean windows are closed and there is a wrought iron door that rarely opens. We've waved and smiled plenty, but we don't even know their names. But now we do know that they are hurting.
All because of a bag of homemade cookies.