Ever since I was young, my parents tried teaching me the morals of life. These vague lessons consisted of ones such as "how to be a good person". However, I never understood those lessons because they were never put to use until my mom brought me to the areas of downtown LA.
We wend to pass out meals to the homeless during the holidays. At the time, I remember looking down on their disheveled faces, and thinking that they reeked of body odor. I was right about all of that, but I was wrong to judge them.
I heard a sudden outbreak and looked up from where I stood. Looking through the crowd of people I saw a middle aged homeless man and woman fighting for a meagar piece of string cheese. This is when I realized that these people have had too many unfortunes in their lives for me to be adding another one by judging them. I realized that I do not know how they got to be homeless. Every person has a different background, a different story. Some people choose to live homeless in order to experiece the minimal lifestyle, and others are not so lucky and are forced to be homeless after countless tries to fight it. These people are a lot more knowledgeable than I am. They have gone through more than me and have experienced greater things than me. They should be the ones looking down on me and teaching me life lessons rather than the other way around.
I do what I do because I beleive in second chances. I believe in letting everyone have fair game to live a better life.