Like those who chose to order the pizzas for Workman, every once in while, true heartache tears me from my spiritual languor.

Sometimes I am pulled from my lethargy by the folks on the side of the road who act as human sandwich boards. In an affront to their dignity, they advertise furniture sales, restaurants and open houses on the placards they wear, becoming breathing human billboards. They do it for the money, of course, not out of a love for “$299 Loveseats.” My heart aches for them.

Marlie Casseus was a 14-year-old from Haiti with a 16-pound tumor on her face. Her tumor grew wildly out of control because her family could not find, let alone afford, medical care. She grew increasingly unrecognizable, and was the subject of shame and ridicule. In the summer of 2005, her father finally found an avenue for help after watching a news broadcast about a Haitian children’s charity. When I came across her story, I had no choice but to donate money to her cause.

Today I sat at a traffic light while a young man walked between cars –mine among them –on the Key Bridge in Georgetown. “Homeless. Please Help. God Bless,” his cardboard sign read. Should I give him some money? I wondered, considering research I have read on homelessness, as well as the teachings of Jesus. “Give to everyone who asks you,” He commands.

Frantically, I vacillated:

Yes
No
Yes
No
Yes
No

Here he comes don’t look him in the eye.

Today, I chose no.

On December 19, 2006, after finally recovering from her brutal surgeries, Marlie Casseus uttered her first words in six years, two gut-wrenching words that can move mountains (Matthew 21:21):

She said “Thank you.”