Mother Teresa said, if you can’t feed 100 people, then feed just one, which brings me to Emily, a woman who walks around with homemade sandwiches she passes out to the needy.
I’ve seen her on the train and in front of Penn Station, but it wasn’t until we met in my own neighborhood that I got to know her.
Born in Brooklyn, widowed after only 5 years, the thing that propelled her into service was the loss of her two twin boys traveling with their father when a drunk driver hit them head on.
Apparently he was a man who had lost everything in the stock market, had stolen a car theoretically to kill himself, unexpectedly taking her family with him.
“I could have hated the world for the rest of my life,” she told me wistfully, “but then thought of the pain he must have been in to do such a horrible thing.”
I felt as if I was in the presence of an apostle, one handing out tuna and egg salad on rye, on a street corner, in New York…